The Little Things
By Jason Marshall
I really should get a haircut.
It’ll be important to look sharp when the good folks from the Guinness Book of World Records show up at our door to snap our photo.
The caption will read: “The Marshall family has watched The Grinch movie seven zillion times.”
True story. Give or take a zillion.
We took the season’s first trip to Whoville before the last miniature KitKat was plucked from the bottom of the plastic pumpkin. Then we made the trek daily. Even after he carves the roast beast, the Grinch still visits daily until our decorations are down and the first propane bill of the new year crosses our threshold. Only then does our furry green friend begin his 10-month hibernation and disappear from our TV screen.
It has become part of the soundtrack of our family’s Christmas season. This brings me joy because creating lasting memories sits at the top our wish list.
Traditions grow from special moments. Moments that are repeated because they bring us happiness. Or comfort. Or a connection to something bigger. Something important.
I smile when I think of Christmas dinner when I was a kid. Our table was always full of food and drink.
The smell of a turkey roasting in the oven takes me back to our kitchen. My mom in her apron, fully in charge of the meal and not missing a single detail. And the laughter. So much laughter.
Dad made sure we had a real tree, and I’d always help with the star on top.
Christmas cards were signed and mailed. Then I’d be given the important job of going to the mailbox every day and grabbing the cards sent to us. I’ll never forget the thrill of finding an envelope addressed to me. Then there was the box of cards from years gone by that made its way to our coffee table. We’d pore through them and I’d ask questions about each one. My mom answered patiently, sharing memories about every single person who’d sent us a greeting.
I’d write my letter to Santa. Then re-write. Maybe even tape a clipping from the Sears Wish Book to the note so the big fella wouldn’t mess something up. Without fail, he’d write back and tuck a letter into my stocking. Funny how he’d always remind me to be good. Especially to mom and dad.
Speaking of stockings and being good, I was always told if I didn’t listen, I’d end up with onions in there instead of toys and goodies. Most kids would get threats of coal. I hated onions more than anything. Still do. So, the thought of finding that vile vegetable in my stocking kept me on the straight and narrow.
The smell of molasses cookies baking. And shortbread. Always shortbread. Then my mom navigating the creation of a Christmas cake. I’ll never understand how making a doorstop with cherries and raisins takes so long. Another holiday mystery.
My parents weren’t trying to create memories. But they did.
The list of what sticks out in my mind about the holidays when I was growing up is endless. Not much about presents on that checklist, though as a kid I wholeheartedly believed ’twas better to receive than to give.
Yet like my grinchy buddy, with time I learned that “maybe Christmas doesn’t come from a store. Maybe Christmas, perhaps, means a little bit more.”
At our home we adore the holiday season.
It’s enchanting.
Yet for some, it’s haunting.
It brings sadness and loneliness because those we celebrated with are now only here in spirit. I’ve been there, but time is the great healer. Time and a shift in perspective.
If how you perceive Christmas has changed, remember its spirit remains unbowed.
It isn’t magical for everyone, but that’s the great thing about Christmas—the magic is constant and unwavering. You just need to buy in. To believe. If your cup feels empty, you can refill anytime. If you check out of Christmas, just know that Christmas never leaves you. It patiently awaits your return.
If you feel there is an ominous shadow over you this holiday season, know that love is a light that will always bring someone out of the darkness. And at its core, Christmas is love.
It’s a feeling. A state of mind. The realization that the true joy of the season comes from within.
Traditions are so important. So, celebrate the past, but live in the moment. Christmas isn’t about the presents. It’s about being present.
When did I become so philosophical? I’d say around the zillionth time I watched The Grinch. It was around then Cindy Lou Who reminded me that the little things about Christmas are what make all the difference.
Merry Christmas from the Marshall family to you and yours. May it be magical and filled with memories, old and new.
Jason Marshall has been a writer and journalist for more than 35 years, and is an on-air host and general manager at Valley Heritage Radio just outside of Renfrew, Ontario. And he’s truly a big kid at heart. You can email him anytime at jason@valleyheritageradio.ca.
