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Show Holiday Commentary Spirit Of Christmas? Come On, Who Are We Kidding? by Mari Herold colored lights, shopping malls and traffic jams, than a religious holiday. It is actually very convenient that our current social, cultural and econom ic structure have provided us with the means to Forum staff writer Each year at just about this time, we all pause in the midst of our holiday merry making , and rampant accumulation of material goods to ask ourselves the seasons questions. Have we let go of our simple innocent past and starry eyed idealism in the face of society? How todays consumer-oriente-d much conviction is really behind that Hallmark card touting Peace on Earth? And just how much candy does ZCMI use in its annual holiday displays? ' Why ask why? If we want to get all sloppy and introspective, then a better question to ask ourselves is: Would we even recognize a Christmas? In the minds of children and adult alike, the season has become more a time of soul-searchi- fulfill this modem tradition. Most stores that line our streets don a striholiday attire about dent reminder that the Chris countdown has begun. Everyones favorite bastion of holiday wonder, Nordstrom, waits until the day mid-Octob- er, ng "All I tmas-shoppi- ng after Thanksgiving to drag out the glitter token of their respect for the season which the marketing department announces via color ad in the local paper. Ill Be Home For Christmas now means Fighting your way out of the Crossroads parking . structure by the 24 th of December. Even the notion of Peace on Earth seems to be the antithesis of the full-pa- ge old-fashion- ed stocking? And who wouldnt be imbued with the Christmas spirit if they received a modem Holiday spirit. According to many economists war is the harbinger of prosperand prosperity provides Christmas ity presents. If war fails to bring on prosperity, a d crisis can serve as a type of diversion for those faced with hard economic times. A fact documented through shiny green Jag all wrapped up in red holiday ribbon? Ill admit the fact that the money could have fed a third-worl- d village for an entire year probably wouldnt be the first thing to come to mind. well-ime- By questioning commercialism, were questioning the only Christmas tradition many of us have ever known. Were waxing nostalgic over a time and spirit that never really existed. We need to leam to accept the season for what it has become the commercialized exchange of really swell gifts. And for those less fortunate than ourselves? Well, Id say theyre welcome to the ZCMI Christmas displays just as soon as the New Year rolls around. Oh well. Merry Christmas anyway. presidential popularity polls.. The truth is, without a strong economy, good jobs, or at least available credit, we are forced to have a little Christmas. And thats no fun for anyone. Sure, we all like to think this is the year to forsake materialism and make some noble and gesture to all of humanity, but how many of us have gone much beyond tossing spare change into the bucket? self-sacrifici- ng bell-ringe- rs Would providing science books for an entire grade school have the same immediate impact as slipping a Rolex into a lover s Want For Christmas Is Their Two Front Teeth" Or ... by Fred Thaller Forum staff writer also find out, over the next few years, that kids think the best Christmas is a commercialized Christmas. Fueled by what they see on TV and in their lives around them, kids go through the I want, I want and Gimme, gimme stages. Some of them never get out of that mode. I tried to teach my kids to love people and not things because things cant love you back. Most of us enjoy receiving gifts, but when we have kids, we Suddenly find that we get a lot more joy out of giving. Sometimes we try to buy them happiness or buy their love because its hard to remember that things cant love you back. When my children. come to me and ask, Whatdoyou want for Christmas, Daddy? I always say, Surprise, me. It really doesnt matter what they give hie, I know Ill love it, especially if its a gift they made themselves. These little pieces of art become treasures, making all the sacrifices worthwhile. They remind me what the real spirit of Christmas is all about When my two youngest daughters were in about first grade, they each made a small I asked a friend yesterday what he wanted for Christmas. He answered, I already got it We just had our first baby, a girl! He was beaming with joy. Chris was late entering the family game. He is in his late thirties or early forties. Something in this new fathers eyes said that his little girl will be much loved and well taken care of the kind of gift money really cant buy. He and his wife gave the gift of life. They got a gift of joy in return. I hope they enjoy each precious minute. Minutes become memories far too quickly, and memories fade. Minutes get overlooked in the every day hustle and bustle of earning a living, rearing kids, paying bills and so on. This event got me thinking about life in general and Christmas in particular. As our babies become toddlers, the toddlers grow to be kids, the kids turn into teenagers (the wonder years), and the teenagers mature into adults, we find ourselves wondering where the time went We cant believe how fast it all happened. When I look at the fine people my children have become, I remember the words of a song from Fiddler on the Roof, Is this the little girl I carried? Is that the little boy at play? I dont remember getting older when did they? Sure we had some tough times. Raising kids isnt all a picnic. The little rug rats dont come with an owners manual and we have to remember that we dont own them anyway. Somebody has to make the difficult and unpopular decisions. There are times when you and your kids dont like each other very much (especially during their teen years), but you find there is a difference between like and love, and you realize that if you keep on loving each other, no matter what, you will fall in like again soon enough. I wanted to tell Chris all of this and a lot more, but there wasnt time. Besides, he will leam those things on his own. He will . . ceramic hand which they carefully wrapped and proudly gave to us for Christmas. They explained that they had made them by pressing their hands onto some clay and how their teacher had helped them cut out their hand prints. They held the clay hand prints in their palms and had curled in the fingers and thumb to make it look like their hand was holding something. The end result was a dish that looked like a little hand lying on the shelf. palm-u- p All things considered, they had turned out rather well and the girls were proud of what they had made. , and their gifts went to a place of honor on my study shelves. Recently, we moved to a new home. The movers took almost everything except the stuff in my study. I had not had time to pack it prior to the move. For several evenings afterward, I stopped by the old house to pack up my books and office things. Each night, I would move six or seven boxes to the new home. One evening, I was packing the last of my books and knickknack when I came across the little ceramic hands. They brought back memories. I packed one in bubblewrap and put it in a box. I set the other hand on the floor next to the box and went upstairs to get more bubblewrap and When she had finished, my youngest daughter asked Ethel what she most wanted for Christmas. Ethel began to weep and said, All I want for Christmas is their two front teeth. We asked what teeth she was talking about and she explained that she had been forced to raise her two daughters alone. Her husband had abandoned the family shortly after the youngest daughter was tape. The phone rang. I answered it and spoke for a moment Then I picked up the wrap and tape on my way back downstairs. I stepped over a box and heard the sound of breaking glass under my foot, realizing immediately what had happened. I knelt doyn by the little hand and cursed myself out loud, then I picked up the pieces of the palm, the little fingers and the fragments that had been my daughters gift to me. The tears came first, then the sobs. The empty house was the sole, silent witness to this grown man weeping over a gift from so long ago. The pieces of the little hand were packed away gently. Our family befriended an old woman a few years ago. Ethel became very close to us. Since my children had no real grandma of their own, Ethel stepped into the void and filled it with laughter and love. The arrangement worked out well for Ethel, too. She was very lonely. Her two grown daughters lived in California and she only saw them about once a year, and Ethel had no grandchildren. We always invited her into our home on Christmas Eve to celebrate in traditional German style with us. Small gifts were exchanged, but the highlight of the evening was when the kids gathered around Ethel and she told them her favorite stories. On Christmas Eve, 1989, she told us the story of her treasure box. There was nothing in it of value to anyone else, but Ethels most treasured possessions were contained in that little cardboard box. She let us see what she had in there on that special Christmas Eve. It was a great honor. There were locks of hair from her little girls heads, old faded photographs of loved ones, buttons and lace, pressed flowers, and other little odds and ends. Ethel told us the significance of each little born'. Through those difficult early years, she had been both mother and father to her girls. It was often tough to afford what they needed, let alone get them what they wanted. When her girls lost their baby teeth, Ethel somehow managed to scrape together enough change to play the part of Tooth Fairy, and saved those little teeth for years. . She gave her daughters the packages of baby teeth for their scrapbooks long ago, but Ethel had saved the two front teeth of each for her own treasure box. Now they were missing and she was heart broken. That was the last Christmas we spent with Ethel. She died a few months later. She never did find the teeth. Every time I hear the funny little song about the child who just wants his two front teeth for Christmas, I end up smiling through my tears. What most of us really want for Christmas are the simple things. I have learned to love people, not things, because people love you back, but when the people I love arent around, the oddest little things can bring them to me. Maybe, in their own way, some things can love us back, but they arent the things that cost a lot of money... . ForunvPage 7 . |