Christmas is one of the most beloved holidays for many American families, especially children. In my family, it was more than a day. Our festivities began the day after Thanksgiving, as this was the official day for starting our decorating agenda. The box that held our tree would emerge from storage. It was the late 1960’s and aluminum trees were a thing resplendent with color changing magic created when a circular piece of primary colored plastic with a single light shined through as the disc rotated. There were boxes of glass bulbs collected over many years, and all seemed to have a story attached — some were acquired during vacations; others were gifts from my mother’s students and relatives, and yet others were the handmade creations of the many children that flowed through; my parents’ home at one time or another. Dad oversaw lining the perimeter of our neat 1960’s brick ranch-style home with multicolored lights, and in the center of what was the summer flowerbed was the first decorative Black Santa Claus our small town had experienced. He did not start out as such. Mom had purchased a standard white Santa of the era and painted him a rich shade of brown. I doubt she did it as a protest, but she did get a bit of backlash from her teacher, friends, and even some of our relatives. Protestations did not matter to her; she explained, “Santa needs to look like them” and that Santa had a place each year in the center of the flowerbed where the petunias grew in the summer and the mums grew in the fall.

My first genuine Christmas happened when I was six years old. In that year, I officially became my parents’ youngest daughter with the finalization of my adoption. My sister began to chatter about all the things she wanted ‘Santa’ to deliver on Christmas. I just watched as she circled items in a special Christmas edition of the Sears catalogue. I was fascinated by a doll called Shrinking Violet, and for the entire year, I had secretly wished for this doll. When my sister finally put the catalogue aside, I picked it up and began to turn the pages and on one of the pages was a photo of Shrinking Violet, she wore a light purple dress, had hair made of yarn, giant cartoonish eyes, and a big bow in the middle of her head. Thinking this mysterious ‘Santa’ would somehow decide I was deserving of the weird little doll; I decided to take my chances and circle her picture.

Fast forward to the night before Christmas; as I began to settle into sleep, the raucous adult laughter and banter of the annual Christmas Eve dinner and gifting festivities began to dissipate. What seemed to be only moments later, I was awakened at dawn by my sister telling me it was time to see what “Santa’ had left. I followed her to the basement and stood in amazement to see a toy store delivered to two sides of the basement. I had not noticed that my sister had already begun to inspect the inventory of gifts when my mother said look over here. She motioned for me to look at what seemed an endless wall of things, and among them, Shrinking Violet sat with her yellow yarn pigtails! I was overjoyed and began to pull the string in the middle of her back to make her talk. My Dad came over and said, “Don’t you want to see the other Santa Claus (gifts)?” As he retold the story to me when I became an adult, he said I responded, “Santa brought all of that, and I didn’t even ask?” He said, “Sure did,” and I began to rifle through the bounty that included baby dolls, Barbie and her Black friend Francie, a tea set, dishes, board games, Lincoln logs, coloring books, crayons, an accordion, a guitar, an Easy Bake oven, dishes, coats, dresses, boots, shoes, and a giant basket of assorted Christmas candy. As a child just a year out of the foster care system, I had never experienced anything like my first real Christmas. Looking back on those years, I recognize the effort my parents unselfishly summoned to create those memories.

Fast forward to 1990 when my father passed away a month before my twins were born, I was depressed, sad, and did not look forward to the holiday at all. “Christmas just ain’t Christmas without the one you love” … In this iconic 1970’s song, the leader of the acclaimed O’Jays singing group laments the loss of a romantic partner during the Christmas season. As a child, the song did not have much personal meaning, but today, as a sexagenarian, the holiday sadness resonates poignantly as most of the people connected to my childhood are gone. I expect this is true for many people of my generation. As I reflect on all the people who made my life shiny and bright during the previous Christmas seasons, I give thanks for discovering through pain and loss that today’s gifts are bigger and shinier than I ever could have imagined. The gift of family – especially grandchildren, mental and physical health, the gift of friends and good neighbors, financial stability, and of course the gift of spirituality make this a beautiful life for which I am abundantly thankful.

What a gift that memories live forever, but the true gift is living each day with gratitude and having the ability to navigate the transitions from old traditions that lead to evolving change, new traditions, and new memories.

As we have entered our traditional holiday season, let us not dismiss the pain and suffering of our fellow Americans whose children may not have enough to eat or a single toy for the holiday. Let us celebrate children and be aware of shocking disparities all around us. According to researchers at the Virginia Commonwealth University, Black children in the United States are ten times more likely to die by homicide than white children, and Indigenous children die by suicide at a rate two times higher than white youth. Let us remember that! Let us not forget our humanity for other areas of the world. For example, 70% of the war dead in Gaza are innocent children. Let us remember that. UNICEF records indicate that every day, the war in Ukraine has escalated. At least one child has perished daily, and thousands have been injured. Let us remember that.

Let every child have the Shrinking Violet of their holiday wishes, and may every adult capable of bringing joy to children decide to share their love.
As 2024 concludes, my wish is for everyone to enjoy the holiday season and make shiny new memories while remaining humble, grateful, and hopeful that others may also be able to do the same.