I’ve always loved Christmas. When I was little, my parents made it kind of magical for us and that fit just right with my DNA.

Those early years included trips to the grandparents for Christmas dinner. More presents. Fun with cousins.

Even after we moved away from the family for Dad to go to seminary in Oklahoma, Christmas still had a magic for me.

The snow. The Christmas lights. The music. The parties and festivities. The Christmas play at church. I made my singing “debut” in Lexington, Kentucky when my older brother Danny and I dueted “Away In A Manger” for the Christmas play.

Christmas specials always captured me. I’d scan the TV schedule to see when Charlie Brown Christmas aired, and the Grinch Who Stole Christmas. I never wanted to miss the Andy Williams or Bing Crosby specials. And if there was a Christmas movie on, I’d take on my siblings for the right to watch it.

I’m corny, sappy and a dreamer. I loved creating that “magical” world of the perfect Christmas. It was okay with me if it wasn’t really perfect, but I loved the attempt.

One Christmas I escaped a crowded house to my Grandparent’s loft. I flipped on the TV and found Christmas in Connecticut. It was the first time I’d ever seen it. With a plate of the best cherry pie in the world and a scoop of ice cream, I created a perfect Christmas. Sigh… 

So what about my first Christmas tree? I always wanted to get the tree as soon as possible. But my dad grew up in a house where he went to bed on Christmas Eve with no decorations up whatsoever but when he came down in the morning, the tree was up, the lights strung, the house decorated and presents under the tree.

I do not know what my grandparents were thinking. They must have sent the kids to bed at noon on Christmas Eve.

As a result of his upbringing, Dad never wanted to get the tree to early. He’d wait until… gasp! the second week in December!

So when I was fifteen, I remedied the problem. I worked as a cashier at Publix and the Christmas of ’75, they stocked these itty bitty fake trees complete with itty bitty lights and itty bitty ornaments. They were perfect for a corner table or better yet, a corner in my room.

So I bought my own Christmas tree, thank you very much. Stood it on a stool and played a Wayne Newton Christmas LP.

“It’s Christmas… in Washington Square…”

I had that tree for a dozen years. Even into college and when I came home for Christmas break, I’d put it up. It’s gone now but it’s one of my treasured memories.

Lo these many years later, I still like the tree to go up right after Thanksgiving. But I’m not rabid about decorations or Christmas music. If ya go too gaga, the whole season kind of loses it’s charm and meaning.

Speaking of meaning. Christmas is about Jesus. It’s about doing what He would do — giving to and sharing with those He loves. I suppose that’s what I love most about Christmas. People set aside differences for the sake of harmony. Gifts are exchanged. Love is shared. Hope is renewed. Above all, JOY is infused in our society.


Merry Christmas Season!  What are some of your favorite holiday memories? 

Speaking of joy! Consider giving books for Christmas! 

“With its sparkling dialogue, witty premise, and convincing characters, and the popularity of television cooking shows, this subtly inspirational tale is sure to entertain readers.” — Booklist