Less Grinch, More Giving
Now that we're deep into the fourth quarter, you know, the season formerly known as Christmas, I am forced to reflect on my own somewhat precarious relationship to the holiday. It started out okay. My memories of Christmas morning are all good, waking up to the excitement of knowing that Santa had come during the night and that there would be alll sorts of wonderful toys under the tree (my apologies to all our Jewish, Muslim, and other non-Christian friends, you'll just have to bear with me a moment). Even as I got older and no longer believed in Santa Claus, the morning of Christmas lost none of its appeal. Part of what made the day special was my father's talent for putting together stockings. We weren't wealthy by any stretch of the imagination but Mom and Dad always managed to make the holiday very special and there would always be that one great gift that was exactly what we wanted - even if we hadn't even thought of it. But it is my dad's stockings that are the highlight reels of my Christmas memories. He would fill them with all kinds of silly things - note pads, pens, candy, little games, small books, and any number of other stationery items and toys and it was always the first thing my brother, sister and I would go for. One of the items he would usually include was a "book" of Lifesavers, the little ring-shaped candies. It was a set of several flavors inside a package that opened just like a book to reveal the wondrous assortment inside. Anyway, every memory I hold of Christmas past - that is my pre-retail existence - are as glowing as the sappiest Christmas movie.
A dozen years in retail later and my Christmas spirit was all but exhausted. Oh sure, I wished customers a Merry Christmas, but in reality, Christmas to me came to mean a month of 14-hour days, crowds, pushy people and all too often rude and angry customers. Let's face it, retailers often see the worst side of shoppers at this time of year. I would look forward to Christmas day as merely a day off after working myself to the bone. As a manager I was the first one in and the last one out every day during December, sneaking out for an hour here and a half hour there to do my own shopping. For years, if I couldn't find the right gift in Soho within a couple of blocks of the store, or in the store itself, I didn't get it. The fact is I did very little Christmas shopping at all. My then wife and I would spend Christmas day at home eating our favorite foods whether they went together or not - shrimp cooked with butter and garlic, chicken liver pate, and so on - and then go to the movies. Not exactly "It's a Wonderful Life."
My life changed in the following years. I left retail, I left that marriage, and I left New York. When my current wife and I got together I inherited 4 step-children, only one of which still believed in Mr. Claus during our first couple of Christmases together. The very first one had me in a conundrum. Suddenly I was going to be a part of a family Christmas and my Christmas spirit was almost on a par with Scrooge and the Grinch. I say almost because I didn't actually go as far as stealing the presents from Whoville, and no, I was never visited by any ghosts of Christmases past. I helped buy some gifts but my main job became putting together the stockings. I must have found a small glimmer of old spirit somewhere deep down inside of me because I started to get into it. Each year the stockings would have a theme and I would carefully hang them on the fireplace so that things seemed to burst out of the top of the brightly colored stockings (maybe that was the problem before - I had no fireplace in New York!). The kids are all grown now, and one of them has a nine-year old son, my grandson (when you start a new generation there is no more "step") who is just beginning to question the existence of Santa Claus but is still clinging to the belief. This year my wife and I decided to pare down the gift giving, to be a bit more conservative, especially in light of the fact that we went to England for three weeks this fall and spent a small fortune. I decided though that the stockings would be as grand as ever and have been slowly, methodically assembling the components - small books, CDs, candy, and other little gifts. As I was buying the last of the traditional candy for the stockings - Hershey's Kisses, M & Ms, etc. - I saw on a display something I hadn't seen in many years, since I was a child actually, a "book" of Lifesaver candy. Of course, this modern version is festooned with a picture of Spongebob Squarepants holding a giant wreath, but it was essentially the same. Now I don't know if Lifesavers have been doing this every year or whether they just brought it back, but it sent me reeling in much the same way Proust must have felt when he bite into his Auntie's madeleine. Needless to say, my grandson will find one inside his stocking Friday morning when he comes over. I'll bet somewhere my dad is smiling. Happy holidays everyone.
