Christmas isn’t what it was

The Alter grands with gingerbread houses,
Several years ago, apparently in Austin.

The other day I read a blog about memories of Christmas with four little ones and the logistics of figuring out equal presents and stocking gifts. I wanted to say, “Hold my wine!” When my four were little, their Jewish father was still part of our household, so we celebrated Hannukah and Christmas both. Do the math—that meant eight days of gifts for four children for Hanukkah, plus stocking stuffers for Christmas morning, plus “out” gifts (something big and showy that Santa left, unwrapped, under the tree—or beside it or at least in the same room), and then individual, wrapped gifts under the tree. In that day, before spread sheets, I made my own flow charts.

For some reason I remember particularly the year that the “out” gift was oversize (I mean huge) Tinker Toys out of which Joel built a life-size playhouse for the kids. And then, of course there was the year they discovered their unwrapped gifts in the guest room closet—it ruined Christmas, they confessed, but I guess every kid does that once. My memories of those Christmases are of hectic confusion, gleeful noise, lots of planning, a frantic Christmas morning, a huge turkey dinner—and sweet exhaustion at the end of the day. Nothing will ever be quite the same again, although when all sixteen Alters celebrated together when the grands were little, it was joyful, mass confusion.

Jean said to me tonight at supper, “Christmas just isn’t what it used to be,” and I replied, “Of course it isn’t. Things change. Life moves on.” This is the season when a lot of us, particularly those of us who are in our golden years, look back on the past with longing. I have several widowed friends who are lonely, missing their spouses. One wrote of the difficulty of filling time right now, and finally confessed, “I miss my soulmate.” Of course, she does, and it must be a bitter, deep down missing that I cannot fathom. I resisted the urge to say, “You have memories of a lifetime with your soulmate. I, long divorced, have no such treasure to call on at this season.” But I have a large family of children and grands—that is my joy. My point is that each of us comes at this Christmas memory business from our unique history. The memories I treasure are not the same as the days you may miss.

But my rather harsh message to Jean and others is, “Get over it!” Of course, Christmas isn’t the same. The world isn’t the same. Everything changes, grows, moves on. Life isn’t static. Part of growing old gracefully (and yes, Jean, you really do a beautiful job of it--sorry to use you as an example) is that things aren’t like they were twenty or thirty years ago. One of the compensations of aging, to me, is calling up memories and, yes, dwelling on them. Live in the past for a few moments. Treasure those times.

But also look around you. Count the blessings you have now. This year, I will not spend Christmas surrounded by Alters—it is what we call in the family an “off year” and my four and their families will spend the holiday with their in-laws: Colin and his family will be in Tomball with Lisa’s mom, our beloved Torhild; Megan and group are flying to Belize with Brandon’s father for some scuba diving and who know what else; Jamie and Mel will welcome Mel’s parents and Eden, home from school, but will spend their first Christmas without Maddie, who is going home with her boyfriend, Trevor—they were with us last year in Austin. Maddie’s family will be sad and miss her (and I know she’ll miss them) but that’s another example of things change: Maddie is building her own life. And next year we’ll have another Alter Christmas. (Why does that make me hear in my mind, “Next year in Jerusalem!”)

Jordan and Christian will welcome his family on Christmas Day, and instead of going to Tomball as I usually do on “off” years I’ll stay here. Jordan is determined to go to midnight candlelight service at University Christian—I am still waffling, but to do that would be to recapture a bit of Christmases past. We haven’t been here at Christmas for ten years, so this is important. But with flu, covid, bitter cold weather, and late hours, I may opt to watch it on my computer. That’s okay. That’s one of the choices I can make about my own celebration of Christmas this year.

Christmas this year, any year, may not be what it was, but for each of us, it is what we make of it. I wish you all the blessings of the season, the joys of the Christmas message, and lots of sweet memories and warm dreams. Hey, maybe a bit of eggnog too.