"Holiday Magic"

Today is the 83^rd anniversary of Pearl Harbor. On September 11^th we remembered the 23^rdanniversary of September 11. Both are dates that will be recalled in infamy, but the contrasts are compelling. Twenty-three years after Pearl Harbor was 1964, and the world had moved on. By 1964, Japan was the 6^th largest economy in the world, and a strong ally of the United States in the Pacific and East Asia. There had been resolution – unconditional surrender in 1945, combined with magnanimous support from the United States. In 2001 we are attacked by state-less terrorists. There has been no surrender, and thus no re-building.

Nevertheless, we should take a few moments to remember those lost on this date 83 years ago, and we should give thanks to the wisdom of those who allowed once enemies to become allies.

 

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To move onto this brief essay. Like many, I have always loved this time of year. My heart beats faster, filled with expectations that stem from childhood. The photo is of the wreath on the door to our apartment. On it hang small items my wife has collected over the years.

 

Sydney M. Williams

 

More Essays from Essex

“Holiday Magic”

December 7, 2024

 

“Our hearts grow tender with childhood memories and love of kindred, and we are

better throughout the year for having, in spirit, become a child again at Christmas.”

                                                                                                               Laura Ingalls Wilder (1867-1957)

                                                                                                               The Long Winter, 1940

 

As a child, the days between Thanksgiving and Christmas were magical. They still are, though there are differences. As a child, magic explained what the mind could not reason, like how could Santa Claus actually visit the homes of all my friends in Peterborough on Christmas Eve, let alone the homes of all the children in other New Hampshire towns. We believed our mother when she told us that our horses could converse in English at midnight on Christmas Eve. There was magic in having “Mitzi,” our family’s Shetland pony, hang her horseshoe alongside our stockings from the fireplace mantle.

 

Today, the magic is on the faces of children as they climb onto Santa’s lap, in the expressions on strangers at the supermarket, in the pleasantries of the parking lot attendant, and on the kindly face of the pharmacist. We hear it in recordings of Bing Crosby singing “White Christmas,” and in the church choir’s rendition of Joseph Mohr’s “Silent Night.” It is the Christmas tree on top of the car and the red ribbon tied to the dog’s collar. “Faith,” as Fred Gailey said in defense of Kris Kringle in Miracle on 34^th Street, “is believing in things when common sense tells you not to.”

 

There is magic in the birth, life, death and resurrection of Jesus. Christmas is the celebration of His birth. It was celebrated in Rome in the 4^th Century. Moralizing Puritans distained the secularization of Christmas, believing it should be treated solely as a holy day. Its recent commercialization has been accompanied with self-indulgence. And, certainly, personal pleasure is part of the magic. But we do not forget those who suffer from loneliness, illness, pain or want. Generosity is part of the magic of Christmas. 

 

In the long life of Christianity, today’s celebrations are recent. Washington Irving introduced Sinterklaas (based on Saint Nicholas) in his 1809 book The History of New York, Clement Moore wrote his classic in 1823, and Christmas cards and trees were introduced in the 1840s. The day became a federal holiday in 1870. While according to Gallup church membership has been declining for over a hundred years, the magic of Christmas has not suffered.

 

It is alive and well in our home. On our front door hangs a wreath, decorated with treasures. The rooms are populated with my wife’s collection of Byer’s Choice Santas and choristers, and my childhood stocking hangs, hopefully, over the mantle of our electric fireplace. Lights strung across the porch and on wreaths lend gaiety. We will watch old movies – “Christmas in Connecticut,” “It’s a Wonderful Life,” and “A Christmas Carol,” with Alastair Sim as Scrooge. And on Christmas Eve, I will read my Arthur Rackham illustrated edition of The Night Before Christmas.