In other parts of my hippocampus, I recall my own Cleveland days-of-glory during the holidays. Yes, I used to come down with my mom to see Mr. Jingaling at Higbee’s (I was there his last season too). I talked to the tree. I received multiple take-home cardboard ovens from The Silver Grille. I also vaguely remember riding the rapid from Tower City to the airport to go people-watching. That’s an odd memory. I still tear up when I hear “Silver Bells” as I have always done since I was a child (and nobody knows why — I truly believe I was Dixie Lee Crosby in a past life).
With disliking majority of all-things-holiday-related, I actually have some really great traditions that began in childhood and carried on through all my family Christmases. My mom still makes hot chocolate with marshmallows and we drink from these old paint-chipped Santa mugs. She still reads The Polar Express (this started later) and The Night Before Christmas every Christmas Eve. I still laugh at the word “nougat” with my brother. Growing up, we had the best pop-up book version of “Night Before Christmas.” Damn, I miss that thing. I sang along with the misfit toys during “Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer” and cried when Frosty melted in the greenhouse. I’m pretty sure the battle between divorced parents and visitation had a lot to do with my discontent during this season, but every year I try harder to break myself out of the funk. Well, you’ll be happy to know that I put a holiday CD into my car this morning for my rush hour drive into work. (I can handle the orchestral versions of Christmas sounds, like the “Nutcracker Suite” and the no-singing version of “Silent Night, Holy Night” — I like to sing it in German — and continue by belting out “Gloria!” in my best church choir voice). Strangely, I also enjoy Christmas Eve mass — and find myself severely emotional throughout the candlelit service. Yes, I cry for Jesus.
This year, I start (and hope to continue) new traditions. I intend to carry some of these customs with me as I get older (and older). And even though I won’t be home for Christmas this year, I’ll probably still call my mom and have her put me on speaker phone, listen to her read again… and laugh at “nougat.”
