Christmas,
Christmas time is near
Time
for toys and time for cheer
We've
been good, but we can't last
Hurry
Christmas, hurry fast
Alvin
and the Chipmunks
Written by
Ross Bagdasarian Sr.
At some level, I suppose, I live a bit of a jaded life. When I was a child, I lived for the holidays.
I lived for the big three: Hallowe’en,
Thanksgiving, and most especially Christmas.
It seemed almost like David’s Hierarchy of Needs. You know, sort of like that Maslow guy, only
a bit simpler and geared more toward children.
You know, I am pretty sure the American public all has memories similar
to the ones expressed by Alvin, Simon and Theodore – see above.
When I dig deep enough through my jaundiced memory, those
things seem to resonate. The ideas
pulse; I remember some of my favorite “gets.”
I got this toy car one time that had a crushable fender. When it hit a wall or some other immovable
object, the fender would pop off and the tire would come off. Your job, after crashing the car, was to put
it all back together. It even had a jack and lug wrench.
Years and years later, that experience helped me when I was
riding with my mom to pick my Pop up from work. It was a 30-mile commute and
that night it was icy cold rain. We got
a flat, and there I was literally in the middle of nowhere. We had a jack and we had a lug wrench, and I
had that ages old experience replacing my toy car’s tire. When we were back on the road, I sat as close
to the heater as I could get with my soaked jacket on the floor and me
shivering in the passenger seat.
But I am sure everyone has those kinds of memories. And, I can’t really say where, when, how or
why I sort of lost that amusement I had had with the holidays. Perhaps it was my 7-year stint in the
military when time sort of spins by, and holidays and birthdays turn into mud
pies and you tend to forget about those things.
I remember, as a single NCO, being a bit of a mercenary and
working Christmas and New Year’s charge of quarter’s duty for people for a
price. It probably wasn’t so mercenary
since the people were more than willing to pay someone to take their place for
the holidays. Truth is, I likely would
have done it for free, but they were going to pay someone anyway and as a buck
sergeant charity wasn’t really something I could afford.
Still, I would sometimes come home and spend the holidays
with my family and everything would be fine.
But being one person, one man, one alone—it sort of drives the spirit of
good will out of you. Things change over
time and I guess through my time after the service, going back to school,
plugging in hours to work myself out of debt, the holidays clomped deeper into
the recesses of my mind.
I think that changed December 26, 1987, when Geordie was
born. Sure, he was born on the 26th,
but any of you who are parents know that once a child is brought into the home
the Christmas thing is back in full force, and it’s not really for you except
by the glow from your child’s joy. Unfortunately,
that joy recedes a bit when they are old enough to live on their own.
But then a miracle happens. Yes, a miracle. The miracle that brings back the joy of
Christmas. Yes, that miracle. Grandchildren.
Thank the good lord for grandchildren, with them we get to revisit our
youth, we get to bask in the glow of their joy.
Thank the good Lord for grandchildren, for they shall lead
you to joy. To all my readers, fools
that you are, have a blessed holiday and take the time to hug grandchild.
We
can hardly stand the wait
Please
Christmas, don't be late.
Merry Christmas
David
