Christmases Passed

The Longest Ago

  Christmas in the 80s was a low key affair for us in the Valley Hardys.  A book or two. Some new clothes. Things were always so very….practical. 

  When I hit my teen years, the Blessed Morning became more of a math problem. I had a feminine friend and so needed to find acceptable gifts within my very modest means. 

  This yearly ritual really helped sink in the Universe’s Message to Me: 

         You, Brian Hardy, are 

Poor. 

As. 

Fuck.

  It’s not like I didn’t know. I’d picked up on the subtle clues: crappy cars always breaking down, the outhouse, the (non-composting) composting toilet, the summer we spent sharecropping. You know, subtle stuff like that. 

  So Christmas on the Loup was about filling needs and trying to avoid embarrassment. Not so much with the Comfort and Joy. And every year, one thought: I don’t want this in my future. 

So, 

Medicine Wheel Farm’s Dickensian Christmas. 

Longer Ago

  At the Big Valley Ranch. The fire in the huge fireplace is down to embers.  The mammoth tree looms in the corner; presiding over a circular mountain range of presents. Stockings, so huge, we once stuffed a young Xander into one, the specially made monogrammed stockings bulge. They bulge. 

  And in the dark, I just sit there on the couch looking at the brightly lit tree and listening to the Christmas music that Harold (somewhat illegally) recorded off the radio in the early 80s. 

  And I think, “What the hell? How am I here?

  This is insane.  

  And I never want it to end. Like, ever.”

  But, Tide and Time and all that. Harold got sick. Tina got more frail. The Ranch was sold and Tina moved to an un-enticing condo. No more 

Mega-Super-Happy Big Valley Yule..ing.

Long Ago.

  So, three, maybe four years ago, Wendi declared Enough. She was going to have her Own Damn Christmas in her Own Damn House. And she was right to do it. We were in our fifties. We had lived in our lovely home for two decades. With exception of my two lonely Christmases while serving on Kodiak, we had always had somebody else’s holiday. We finally declared our independence. 

  What we ended up with was enjoyable and relatively stress-free. 

  But an astute observer might have noticed a lot of similarities between the old and the new. A lot of the holiday decorations were Ranch-me-Downs. We generally followed Ranch protocol in terms of schedule and menu. And we listened to all that wonderful Christmas music that Harold thoughtfully (and slightly illegally) recorded onto cassettes in the early 80s.  

  So, Ranch Redux on a Low Budget. 

The Now

  Our son and his wife (and his wife’s work schedule) dictate our holiday schedule. We had presents and stockings early. It was a modest affair and over too quickly. Mrs. and I saved our presents for the 25th. The menu was wonderful and stress free.

  As is our tree, which we will probably box up in a week or so. It may not have any woodsy scent but setting up the lights involved plugging them in and using the remote. Nary a single “The Look” or even “A Pursing of the Lips” between husband and wife. Why, it hardly seemed like Christmas. 

  One tiny dollop concern was when Tanith got interested in how the fake pine needles tasted. Having just paid some pretty hefty vet bills, we decided to go with an armed perimeter defense. Our eternal tree rests easy behind a circle of plastic spiked treads on the carpet and behind that, four motion-detecting cans of compressed air.

…

  Sounds kind of lame when I write it all down. 

  But this is our Christmas now. Sort of. It’s not the 112% Pure Holiday at the Ranch Joy. And we aren’t the Cratchit Family, living on 15 bob a week. We’re..somewhere else. Trying to figure out which Old Customs are worth keeping and which new ones are worth adding. 

  I mentioned to Wendi that this year it seemed a tad less Christmas-y. She said I would always feel like that way after The Ranch Experience and that maybe we should just go somewhere for the holidays. A resort somewhere. Some probably warm place where people cook the food and bring it to you, at poolside. 

  A very interesting idea. But that will require lots of planning and some extra cash.  So, not now. But some day, we might just have ourselves a Brian&Wendi Xmas. 

  We will, but only after we learn to pass on what we’ve always done for no better reason than that’s what we grew up with. 

  Learn to take a pass on past crap. 

As is always the case, a work in progress. 

B.