Christmas memories

After procrastinating for days, I finally wrapped the five presents I will be taking with me to California for an unusually small Christmas gathering -- but all of us family, and all wonderful company, so we'll have quality even if not quantity!  For several days I put off the onerous task of wrapping, which actually ended up taking about a half hour of my valuable time.

Somehow I felt I'd have to devote an entire evening to the project.  Probably because, as a kid, I did spend at least a large part of an evening.  Back when wrapping presents was not a chore, but a delightful activity.

By the time I was 10 or 11, my brain had matured somewhat -- to the point where Christmas wasn't completely "gimmee, gimmee."   For brief moments, I was excited about giving presents as well.  From that age, each year I made up for the small amount of money I could spend on gifts by the amount of thought and time I was delighted to devote to the project.

Looking back on those days, my gifts may have seemed odd.  Did my mom (a non-smoker) really need another ash tray, with another elf sitting on it?  Did she really need a set of six water glasses, supplementing a cupboard full of such glasses?  But I have no doubt she treasured each gift, knowing how much time I spent wandering around the main street of my small town in search of ideas.

But if the gift-buying provoked a certain amount of anxiety, the wrapping was sheer pleasure.  I was not an artistically creative youth.  I devised no original forms of gift-wrapping -- in fact, my entire hope was to wrap gifts in conformity with certain well-known standards of how gifts were to be wrapped.

Who set those standards?  Again, my mother -- without realizing what she was doing.  I doubt if she ever offered a single suggestion to me to assist me in my own wrapping.  But I had watched her wrap for years.  She was not an artist either, but she had inherited standards of wrapping from her own mother, and she was magnificently competent in meeting those standards.  Her corners were wrapped square; her ribbons were taut; her bows were symmetrical and flower-like.

I spent as much time selecting gift wrap -- just the proper design appropriate for each member of my family -- as I did in selecting the gift itself.  Once the paper was selected, the proper ribbon -- always wide, satin ribbon -- had to be chosen in the appropriate color.  And then there was the question of the gift tags -- those little tags (or, increasingly, tiny folding cards) that identified the giver and recipient of the package.  These tags had to match the paper as well -- either designed specifically for the wrapping paper I was using, or ones that somehow complemented the paper in color and theme.

All of this effort for four presents -- mother, father, brother and sister.  At the appropriate time, usually sooner rather than later, because I couldn't wait, the gifts would emerge from my room and be laid ceremonially beneath the altar of our Christmas tree.  Appropriate words of  appreciation for my wrapping were as vital to my sense of self-worth as appreciation for the present wrapped within.

I thought of all of this, ruefully, as I wrapped the presents -- swiftly and mechanically -- that I'm taking to California this year.  I no longer find richly-colored gift wrap in folded sheets, sheets that generally were the correct size for the packages I needed wrapped.  Now, if gift wrap is available at all, it comes in rolls.  And it seems "cheaper" in appearance somehow, the colors less saturated, the paper flimsier, than the paper I recall from my youth.  But the Christmas lights seemed more magical back then, as well; the crèches more reverent, the carols better sung.  The less said about the psychology behind my perceptions the better.

What's more disturbing by far than rolls of gift-wrap, is the wide-spread substitution of "gift bags" for paper.  Again, not to belabor the point, but what better suits our frenzied times than a form of "wrap" where you just drop your purchase into a bag and set it under the tree.  And so much easier to "unwrap" as well.

But -- as I've tried to hint -- what's really changed is me.  And it's a change that occurs to most of us as we grow older.  Christmas celebrations were magical as a kid because they were new to us (and because they seemed to come around far less often!).  We could have been sitting around an aluminum "Festivus Pole," and (assuming we kids got some presents, and the family was all together and showing excitement) it would have seemed like a wondrous time of year.   

So I travel to California, bearing gifts -- especially for the younger set -- and I know that I'll have the opportunity to witness excitement and joy, the same excitement and joy that I experienced back when I was struggling to force a length of inflexible wide satin ribbon into my first bow.

And some of that excitement and joy will work its way under my skin, melting my scrooge-like heart.

Merry Christmas to all -- no matter how young or how old you may be!