One of the best things about Christmas is anticipation.
I know I’m going to sound like an old fogey, here… but that’s only because I am one. And what’s wrong with that?
Christmas lights used to go up during the last week or two before Christmas day.
Just a few venturesome souls would string their outside lights as early as Dec. 1. And even then, most of the decorations consisted of a string of red, green, and yellow bulbs, maybe a few blue, outlining their roof’s edge.
Anyone who planted a Santa in their front yard – or maybe even added a Rudolph or a couple of elves – would be the wonder of the neighbourhood. Children would be hustled into cars for an awe-inspiring tour of sights that would be considered bare minimum decor today.
Indoors at my house and for many of my friends, Christmas did not start until Christmas.
Our tree was picked out months earlier, spotted by Dad or one of my older brothers while checking fences or searching for stray calves at the back of the farm. It would be chopped and hauled home, sitting in a shed only long enough for the rain (or maybe snow!) to drip off its branches before gracing our living room. It might come in during the day on Christmas Eve, but decorating was left for Santa, after the littlest ones had gone to bed.
When we woke up on Christmas morning, it truly was Christmas!
It was easier then than now to believe that Santa Claus had stopped by at midnight, decorated the tree, and dropped off a handful of gifts – we could never afford more than a few – before riding off to bring Christmas to all the other girls and boys. Santa wasn’t everywhere months early, and nobody paid a sexy elf to have a picture taken with Santa at the mall.
Actually, where I grew up, there was no mall… just an Eaton’s catalogue office and some local businesses… and a Woodward’s department store with a toy section that expanded into two or three extra aisles, no earlier than the end of November.
That was the beginning of the anticipation of Christmas for all the kids in town, as they all wondered which one of those wondrous toys Santa might bring them.
Christmas season was shorter then. Expectations were more modest, and anticipation didn’t have time to get worn down by greed… usually.
May your anticipations be met this Christmas… and your reasonable expectations realized.
Merry Christmas!
