Memories

Memories.  They can be a blessing or a curse.  They can bring an impromptu smile as we see afresh in our minds a pleasant or humorous scene from the past that drops into our consciousness unexpectedly.  Memories can also cause tears as our mind replays sad days or poignant moments.  And, they can result in a time of reflection as we consider the unexpected repercussions of what may have seemed like such an insignificant event at the time.

What is it about the Christmas season that seems to cause the memories to flood our minds like an old home movie on steroids? Why do we seem to become immersed in waves of nostalgia to the point that we almost feel like we are playing the lead role in Dickens’ “A Christmas Carol”?  And isn’t it amazing how vividly we can recall the details of each of those memories?

Maybe I’m just caught up in that spirit of nostalgia, but I am a walking memory machine this time of year.  And I tend to recall memories from my ancient past much more readily and clearly than more recent events.  From what others have told me, it seems that is not uncommon for old guys like me.  For example, I remember the Christmas when I received the “Jungle Set” that I had spotted on the shelf at V. J. Elmore’s (or maybe it was TG&Y) in Russellville, and was beyond excited when it showed up under my Christmas tree. It consisted of a safari hat, a toy gun with a shoulder strap, a plastic knife and toy binoculars.  We lived in a little house in Rockwood, and I’m pretty sure I was in Mrs. Ezzell’s second grade class.

Then there was that year that I received the multi-band radio that made me keenly aware that there were stations other than WWWR in Russellville and WVOK in Birmingham.  We lived in a little house on Adams Street in Russellville that year.  I also received a portable typewriter when we lived on Monroe Street in Russellville.  I remember calling Mrs. Poss, the business teacher at Belgreen to confirm whether I should buy a Pica or Elite typewriter.  She suggested Elite.  She also told me how to correctly pronounce it.   Later, in high school, she taught me how to type.  And then I remember the year that I received a much-requested Smith Corona Marchant (SCM) adding machine (they didn’t call them calculators back then).  That was one of the Christmases after we moved to Phil Campbell.   Finally, I remember the purple crushed velvet pantsuit which was the first gift I ever bought for Gail.  Her parents weren’t happy about it since they were not yet sold on me, but they finally agreed to let her keep it.

But there are also memories above and beyond the gifts I received or gave.  I remember a Mom and Dad who made sure that we were blessed with a nice Christmas when, looking back, I’m sure the money was not always there.  Back in the day if your dad drove a chicken truck and your mom raised chickens for the local poultry kingpin, you probably didn’t have an abundance of money for toys, oranges, pecans and chocolate drops.  But they were always there when we woke up on Christmas morning.  Many years later, I have an appreciation for the sacrifices it took to make sure that their daughter and four sons were not disappointed.

Time waits for no one, so I soon moved beyond my childhood Christmases as Gail and I started our family and established our own Christmas traditions.  We worked hard to make Christ the center of Christmas in our home, but we also left room for Santa.  I know that some parents today have a different view than I did, and I respect that.  But in our house, the message was clear.  “If you stop believing in Santa, don’t expect him to keep bringing gifts.”  Today, you can ask any of my adult children and they will confirm to you that their belief in Santa has not wavered or diminished.  Neither has mine.  Neither has my understanding of the true significance of Christmas.  I simply don’t see a reason that the two need to be in conflict.

Gail’s dad, Delano loved Christmas and was born on Christmas day.  I have vivid memories of two Christmas celebrations with her family every year.  I recall those times when Delano and his brothers, Bob and Joe, and his sister Mary and their families would converge at Grandmother Johnson’s for a time of food, stories, singing and much laughter.  Those visual images of family loving each other and enjoying spending time together served as an example of what Gail and I wanted to demonstrate and see carried on within our home, as well as to see our children become adults and create their own memories within their homes.  We also desired that they would always return to our home for the holidays.  God has been gracious to grant those desires and we are eternally thankful.  After Grandmother Johnson’s passing, these Christmas moved to Delano’s and Tallulah’s house (Mamaw Johnson), where they continue to this day, with Delano’s memory ever present.

And, how could I ever forget those Christmas Eves when Gail and I joined her mom’s side of the family at her Uncle Jimmy’s house?  Again, there was plenty of food and lots of laughter.  Uncle Jimmy, or “Big Jim”, was a master of a lost art, that of storytelling.  He could go on endlessly with stories of his childhood, family, hunting, and a litany of other topics that kept the room attentive and laughing. For any topic that came up, Uncle Jimmy had a story for it.  The first Christmas after Gail and I were married, Big Jim called us into another room and gave us a crisp ten-dollar bill.  He was very explicit in his instructions on how we were to use the money (because he knew we didn’t have extra money).  He instructions (actually it was an order) were something to the effect of, “Now don’t go spend this money on birth control pills.  I want you to take ‘Cutz’ (his nickname for Gail) out for a nice dinner!”  And we did.  We stretched that ten dollars for all it was worth and went to McDonald’s (a treat in those days on my salary) and to the old Cinema Twins theater to see “Gone With the Wind”.  We even had popcorn! (I need to add here that Jimmy’s daughter, Lori has that same wonderful gift of storytelling.  I would pay to read her blogs if she ever decides to write one.)

Shakespeare wrote “the world is a stage and the people merely players”.  That sounds a bit simplistic, but the curtain does seem to fall and rise again as each of life’s stages brings new and different memories.  Certainly, we are moving rapidly from scene to scene in this short lifetime.  And today, we are creating and celebrating new memories with our grandchildren and the new joys they have brought to our Christmases.  Although I have gradually learned to be a little more flexible with our Christmas schedule to allow them to establish their own Christmas traditions and memories (as well as to share them with their in-laws), we are still blessed because our children and grandchildren want to spend as much time as possible at Christmas with Papaw and Granna.

But, there is no joy without sadness.  And while we smile and laugh at some of these memories, we also have moments of melancholy as we remember those who are no longer with us to celebrate them.  Delano left us in 1988, and Gail’s Uncle Jimmy in 2009.  Mom has been gone more than 16 years and we lost Dad a couple of years back.  But we’re blessed to still spend Christmas with Gail’s mom, siblings, nieces, nephews, and grandchildren.  Also, my sister and my brothers are working hard to make sure we have an opportunity to celebrate the season together even as we miss those who have gone on to spend eternity with the One whose birth we celebrate.  I’m thankful that we do.  And our children and grandchildren continue to invade our house the week of Christmas, shattering the peace and quiet of our empty nest.  I can’t imagine it being any other way.  And it remains our prayer that our children and their children and those generations which follow will one day look back at some of the memories we are making today and smile, shed a tear, or simply reflect on those things we were given which were wrapped in lives and love as opposed to paper and ribbons.

Are there painful memories?  Of course there are.  We all have memories of heartaches, struggles, and bad experiences that we will carry with us throughout all our lives.  Hopefully, those are few in number and seldom surface.  And without a doubt, many are struggling with those first Christmases after the loss of a loved one.  We’ve all been there and know the pain is real.  But I really believe that over time, the pain fades in the face of great memories.  My prayer is that this will be true for you.

Finally, I want to add that your worship of the risen Savior who was born in Bethlehem will impact your memories and your appreciation for this season in ways I cannot explain.  I encourage you to make Him the centerpiece of your Christmas and I assure you that your memories will take on a new freshness, an increased joy and a blessed peace.

I guess that’s what I am trying, in a wordy and roundabout way to say.  Just as we enjoy memories, we are also creating memories whether we realize it or not.  Usually we don’t realize it.  They just happen.  And, they will one day be recalled with laughter and joy, or they will bring sadness and remorse.  Many will be a time of simply nodding a head and saying, “I remember that”.  Hopefully, they will bring an impromptu smile.  May each of us guard our words, our attitudes and our actions as we celebrate this special time of year so that one day, those who come after us will share our story around the Christmas table, in front of the Christmas tree, or maybe even in a Christmas blog.

Have a merry and blessed Christmas.