Many of my clients have told me that they cannot afford Christmas this year. They have either shunned credit cards, or been shunned by the credit card companies. Others have lost their jobs, or are facing a lay-off. Some are living pay check to pay check and do not know how they can pay the mortgage or the rent. For those clients, and for others so similarly situated, I have this Christmas message for you.
Christmas Eve
Christmas Eve was the one time of the year I could count on seeing most – if not all – of my family at the same time, and in the same place. As a kid, my mom had an open house: inviting friends, neighbors, co-workers, and of course family. She was renowned for her eggnog, which she would make batches of in anticipation of company, only to find herself in the kitchen during the evening having to whip up more.
As the years went on, the tradition moved to my grandparents’ home in Tiverton, Rhode Island. They usually had a small tree, decorated only with lights and photographs of family members who were there, and other family members who had passed on. My grandfather would make mince meat pie. The pie actually had meat in it. One year he told us it had venison; which given the whole Santa/Reindeer thing, I thought was just sick. It also had booze in it. Sometimes too much.
My nana would make a ham and baked beans from scratch. The ham was always tasty, and very salty and it made us want to drink lots of water. That, coupled with the beans, often made the ride home interesting primarily because it was usually quite cold and it was necessary to have the car windows rolled down. But damn, we sure did laugh on the way home.
Of course, Christmas always involved presents. I remember when I was in law school, and I had no money. I managed to find some old slides of my grandparents and I got them converted into photos. I got a cheap frame at a discount store and wrapped it. The photo I gave my grandfather was of my nana and me when I was a young lad and she, a much younger grandmother. When he opened the gift, he sat and slowly moved his thumb over the image of my nana. He said not a word. My aunt would later tell me it was one of the best presents he had ever received, and he was too overcome with emotion to tell me. Amazingly, the whole thing cost less than 5 bucks.
But most of those years, gift giving involved tons of wrapping paper, bows and if we were lucky, only 5 months of bills. My mom had a tendency to go over board, which was an unfortunate trait she passed on to her children. Yet as with all things, a change in the air would come.
When the Winds of Change Blow…
In 1995, one of my cousins died unexpectedly. His death, for reasons that need not be explained had cut the family at its core. The following Christmas Eve was in a word, empty. That Christmas, only a few of us came to Tiverton. For some in the family, the emptiness was too unbearable to even attempt.
Less than 7 weeks after that Christmas, my grandfather passed away. The following Christmas Eve, I did not give my nana a present – she herself was quite ill. We merely sat on her enclosed porch which looked out onto a large salt pond. We sat in the dark, with the only light being from a candle flickering next to an old nativity scene and moonlight dancing on the icy water outside. We held hands and for the most part, sat in silence. We cherished each and every second of that evening.
A few months later, my nana joined my grandfather. From that point on, Christmas Eve was a special time but it was a time when we as a family knew that we had to be together on that one day of the year. Going overboard was something that we felt had to do. Maybe we thought it was a way to reinforce how special the day was. Maybe it was our way of dealing with the loss of not only those family members. In retrospect, we covered up the pain we felt with material things.
The last Christmas Eve with my mom was in 2001. It was in a nursing home, and she was recovering from what would be one of her last hospitalizations. At that point, there was really nothing to buy. There was nothing I could buy her that she needed or could want. Any gift she could have given me would either be profoundly trivial, or even more profoundly heartbreaking. The only thing that was important that Christmas Eve was that we were together.
We laughed, remembered Christmas Eves of the past, gossiped, and eventually sent out for some Chinese food. As we munched on greasy ribs and even greasier egg rolls we innately knew that that December 24 would be the last for us.
Looking back, we played the night well. My mom had ordered an enormous poinsettia (which was ironic, because I always thought she hated them). It had a large, ugly fake bird stuck in the middle of it. There were no tears (certainly, none that she saw). There was no maudlin sentimentality spewed forth like some dollar store gift with a slapped-on-bow. It was just us together on Christmas Eve. And that was all that truly mattered. To this day, I know in my heart that it was all that really mattered.
So to my clients and readers on this Christmas Eve, I want to tell you all that none of the Christmas gifts I ever received or ever gave – even those I have given and received this year have really mattered. At the end of the day, there were just bags of discarded wrapping paper; toys that would be played with and ultimately thrown away; clothes that would be worn and then worn out; and food that would be eaten, or admittedly, re-gifted. The only constant was and is to this day those we cherish. The only gifts that really matter are those that remind us of that fact day after day, year after year.
My Christmas message to you is this: know that if I could, I would give back every Christmas present I ever received, and vow never to accept one again if I could spend just one more Christmas Eve in Tiverton with my mom, my cousin, my nana and my grandfather and everyone else in my family. The salty ham. The boozy pie. The tree, the dysfunction and the laughter. All of it.
This Christmas Eve, cherish the time you spend with your family and your loved ones, remember above all what truly is important; and keep it close to your heart as you enter every day of the New Year. It will give you strength to overcome any obstacle. Trust me, what’s really “priceless” are those important things in our lives that cannot be bought. Contrary to whatever the good folks at Citibank think, there’s really nothing that money can buy to make what’s “priceless” any better.
With that said, I wish you all a very Merry Christmas.
Related posts:
Just wanted to say thank you for your advice earlier and having just read your Christmas Message which I thought was great, it really did brighten my day, thanks for reminding me what is important in life, it is not what I buy for people it is the memories that I create for them. Thank you and Happy New Year to you and yours.
Great story and advice.