Looking forward to Christmas?!?...

by Kimberley Thompson, Tastemaker in Residence

At what point in my life, did I stop looking forward to Christmas and start dreading the flip to the last page in the calendar? When did Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer cause glumness? Where is the joy in the hustle and bustle? The baking? The wrapping? The scurrying? (Both as shoppers and "all the creatures stirring?)

Discovering that my Dad was Santa in our little red Cape Cod didn't stop me from counting down the days. Nor did the smaller and smaller pile of presents as we became teenagers. (Mom always said it was the quality of the gift, not the quantity. My sneaking suspicion was that grownups just got bigger (and necessary) gifts; so the dollars could only buy so much. And really, do PRACTICAL things count as Christmas presents?

Christmas, from age twenty on, saw me employed in the retail world with its frenetic, hellish holiday hours. Days blurred as I assisted others in finding the "perfect thing" on the list...and even the "not so perfect thing" when the stores ran out. And yet, my house was festive, my smile was MERRY and my eyes bright as I wished all a Happy Holidays! I know I still looked on December 25th as an event to look forward to, and participated in cookie exchanges, Christmas letters, Secret Santa events, and wassailing! 

The '30s had small nudges of a slight Grinch-ish attitude around the edges of my Christmas mood. I left the room when Clarence was whining to Joseph in "It's a Wonderful Life." I secretly rolled my eyes at Little Cindy Lou Who, with her saccharine voice, chirruped "No matter how different a Who may appear, he will always be welcome with holiday cheer." I callously broke each candy cane before eating, denying myself the pleasure of sticky fingers and pink peppermint-flavored lips.

After Dad died, I never set up a Christmas tree again; not even the little pre-lit artificial one. I half-heartedly participated in the traditional cookie baking at Mom's; I had such a "why bother" attitude. My Christmas tinsel lost its luster. And it seemed to hit all of the Thompson clan...some just quicker than others. I claimed to have no time to help Mom decorate. My brother BOUGHT someone else's homemade holiday cookies. No snowmen were made; dressed for the season or not. My wrapping paper stash has languished for over 20 years!

I honestly thought, and told myself often, that I would recover my Holiday Spirit once I got through the first years "after Dad." Then it was the first five years to grieve and THEN recover. And 5 turned to 10 to 15 to 20.

I have hit 21 Christmastimes without Dad. I have not bounced back into a Holiday elf with glitter wings, peppermint canes stashed in pockets and sleigh bells on my shoes. There are no bells ringing for "getting wings" on my tree; because the nearest I get to the old Tannenbaum is the one in my front yard. And as the retail world starts "Holiday" earlier and earlier, my dark Scrooge-ness infests me for 4 months!

I do not wish to be this person. I want to wassail and carol. Wreathes and holly should abound in my life! (My red Jeep deserves a festive sprig or two!) I want to get that little frizzle of excitement from the first scent of Christmas cookies to the last Auld Lang Syne and sip of New Year's champagne. I need to count the days down to the Nativity...open an advent calendar (or 21). I want to watch the "All Christmas Channel" 24/7...and not scream at the tube with comments of "Suck it up, Clarence!"

So for starters; Merry Christmas to all of you...from the very bottom of my icy cold heart! (That wasn't so painful...)