The Ghosts of Christmas Past

“My house is a shambles at the moment. Boxes of ornaments, candles and Christmas figurines are scattered about while strings of multi-colored lights are draped over chair backs and tables. Surveying the chaos yesterday I began to wish that I could get all the holiday decorating done in one quick furious day and leave all the clutter behind. But then I caught sight of a tissue wrapped ornament and time stood still. I gently removed the tissue and looked at the tiny tulle-skirted ballerina. She was bought for me by my mother when I was only four years old. A little handmade thing consisting of a wooden ball, netting and pipe cleaners, she has been lovingly placed on a Christmas tree every year since. Looking at her made me pause to think of the Christmases past carefully tucked in all those boxes around me.

Like the hand knit stocking from 1952 that has been hung every Christmas Eve in continued hope that Santa will fill it; the first ornaments purchased when I was a young bride of 22; and then from more recent Christmases, the handmade ornaments given to me from my daughters: gilded macaroni noodles on juice can lids, a Santa bell made from a plastic cup, a candle made of cardboard tubing, wrapping paper and foil. And even more recently, an ornament marking the first Christmas Jim and I spent as husband and wife, now already 23 years old.

Pretty soon I was standing amidst so many ghosts of Christmas past that I couldn’t keep the tears from flowing. It’s a funny thing about Christmas. It’s played such an emotional role in the lives of so many of us, that sometimes we don’t know how to react. We are flooded with memories and though many of them are wonderful memories, good and tender moments in our lives, we are brought to tears because the memories are now just that—memories.

It is a pivotal moment when we realize that to be blessed with many happy Christmases means we must also face these ghosts of Christmas Past, the ghosts that remind us that life changes, life moves on and sometimes people leave us.

I treasure these ghosts of my past even though their memories can be bittersweet. I am grateful for every Christmas spent with my parents and brothers. Every Christmas graced with the presence of my daughters was a joy. Every Christmas and Hanukkah spent with Jim and his children added a new dimension to my life. And now with grandchildren galore, Christmas Present is one glorious chaotic moment after another. I treasure them all.

So if the ghosts of Christmas Past bring a tear to my Christmas Present, it is a tear I am willing to shed for each new Christmas Present that I am able to share with my grandchildren is the greatest joy of all - and the beginning of many new Christmas Past memories.

In Search Of Our Fathers

Probably one of the most difficult and misunderstood relationships in our culture is that between a father and his children. For whatever historical reasons, and I'm sure there are many, until recently fathers in our society have received neither the recognition nor the support to do a job that is automatically expected of them.

Just as children for years were expected to be seen but not heard, fathers were expected to be both material providers and strong moral anchors for their children but without spending much time with them. Whereas, mothers spent their days at home, fathers were absent from their children much of the time. For one thing, hours spent at jobs were generally much longer than present day eight hour shifts. Discipline was strict and often a child's main contact with father was from the other end of a leather strap.

But as times changed, attitudes towards childrearing also changed. Mothers were still at the heart of the family but children were less likely to be considered possessions of the parents. Fathers were still expected to provide the material and moral support, but now they were also expected to relate with them, something never before expected. This marked a monumental shift in our society's expectations of its fathers but with little in the way of instruction or support to go along with it.

Needless to say, many fathers failed or were thought of as failing. And it is possible that at least some of our absentee fathers today are victims of society's failure to prepare them adequately for their responsibilities. Some may even think their children are better off without them. But when it comes to fathers, I think children are similar to molten metal that is poured into a lost wax mold. They end up filling in the grooves and hollowed out spaces left behind by their fathers. Their very lives are cooled and shaped by the fathers they never knew or the fathers they were forced to create in their imaginations. The rest of their lives may be spent trying to match the mold of their missing fathers to their own incomplete selves.

The truth is, all of us have an innate need to know our fathers, whether physically or psychically, and this need shapes each of us in some way or other whether we like to admit it or not.

I lived with my own Father for eighteen years and he was a part of my life and my children's lives until he passed away in 1995 at the age of 82. And yet, even knowing him as well as I did, I still have so many unanswered questions about his childhood, about the way he was with my brothers and me, about his relationship with my Mother. So many questions for which I will never have answers. And so, like children everywhere, I fill in the empty spaces as best I can. And I carry my memories of my Father like a treasure. They have indeed helped shape the person I am today. And they have had their part in shaping the people my children have grown to become.