MERRY XMAS

I know ... "Xmas" is a crude abbreviation for Christmas. My beloved 7th grade school teacher, Mrs. Gilmore, who I have written about previously, was the first person, maybe the only person I can remember, who had such a strong dislike for the word "Xmas". It's weird & convoluted, but I like to write "Xmas" at this time of year, in memory of Mrs. Gilmore. I would love to hear her voice say one more time -- "Xmas is not the proper word for Christmas".

So ... to do it proper for everyone ... MERRY CHRISTMAS.

When I was a young kid in Rochester, New York, Christmas, was a special time. It was cold outside & most every Christmas was a White Christmas, from "lake effect snow", off both Lakes Erie & Ontario. Despite money not being plentiful growing up, my Mom & Dad -- and/or, Santa Claus -- always seemed to manage to have one "major" gift under the Christmas tree each year. [A real tree. I don't think the fake trees were even invented back then.]

I remember the electric trains I received one year, which led to additional trains & accessories each following Christmas for the large train set-up my Dad built in our basement. I still think he built all that for his own fun.

Another Christmas, next to the tree, brought a bike, something I had been wanting truly bad. Before that year, I had a series of used, second-hand bikes. This bike was brand new & all mine. [Of course, all that snow meant the bike stayed in the neighbor's garage till Spring, when the snow & slush finally melted & I could take the bike out for ride. The Curse of Christmas Bike's ... in the North.]

Somewhere, long ago, perhaps about college time, Christmas took on a different meaning. It was about returning home, visiting with Mom & Dad & sharing time together, making up for all the miles & years which now separated us.

The idea of a "White Christmas" disappeared about 25 years ago, when my parents moved to Central Florida. Certainly no snow there. Much warmer temperatures too, even in the Winter.

I'll be flying down to Florida this coming Sunday for Christmas. When my Father passed, I made sure it was the one holiday my Mother & I would always be together. I've been going down there every year. Now days, instead of snow, it would not seem like Christmas without palm trees, temperatures in the 70's & riding my bike in my shorts, working on my mid-Winter tan.

That one week of time is really the only time it "feels right" ... like there is something "special". Now days, Christmas is all commercial & money spent & made. The Christmas displays are up in the stores/malls long before the Halloween candy is marked down. Thanksgiving is just a prelude to shopping on "Black Friday". The nightly news broadcasts show people, crowded in the stores, shopping for bargains, no doubt adding to the balance on those high-interest credit cards.


Not for me. I want to remember Christmas as it was when I was a kid. For many years, I would be going out in the cold & snow on a dark, moon-less Christmas Eve, looking up at the stars, trying to find that "special star" which shown so long ago. I was looking for the BRIGHT STAR, almost hoping to see it move in the heavens, to let me know ... "That's the one" !!

Christmas is joy, love & remembrances of what we really celebrate -- a birth & life to save us all. It's NOT just buying big, expensive presents on sale. It's a time we remember to give thanks for so many REAL GIFTS we have been given.

Merry Xmas, Mrs. Gilmore ... where ever you are.