Old Man Winter settled in as December arrived in western New York. Snow sprinkled the lawns and the roads as Jack Frost nipped at the noses of students as they left the house to catch the bus.
As a young kid eagerly awaiting Santa’s arrival, the magic surrounding the holiday season, and the family traditions leading up to Christmas Day, were back again.
Outside, the McCarthy household was illuminated during the frigid nights, thanks to the Clark Griswold of the family, my dad. Lights were strung in the shape of Christmas trees on the front windows, complementing the icicles lining the gutters. A lighted Santa grabbed the lighted reins in the middle of a snow-covered lawn with several reindeer leading the way.
Inside the cozy humble abode, a towering artificial tree stood with an array of festive ornaments and my mom’s bustling village around the stand. Stockings were hung, and atop the mantel stood a Santa who slowly took his magnifying glass to the naughty and nice list.
Two small coffee tables were filled with Christmas knickknacks, and up on a shelf next to the fireplace stood figurines of Rudolph and his gang.
As my family and I prepare our Keys home every Christmas, my head always seems to replay clips from the weekends spent with my two brothers, mom and dad shaping the tree, lining the lights and garland and placing ornaments in the living room. In the background, festive tunes filled the air from the likes of Bing Crosby, Andy Williams and Nat “King” Cole on the record player. A Christmas craze similar to that seen in “The Grinch’s” Whoville filled our home.
My memories also go back to the days spent sifting through a magazine my brothers and I eagerly awaited in the mail — the Sears Wishbook catalog. The fight was on to see who would get the first look at the toys, the video games and the other possible presents inside the magazine. Pens were in hand as we turned the pages and circled or put our initials next to the cool action figures and the video games every kid was asking for from their Santa or parents.
Once we colored up the magazine, we gave it to the eleves, our parents, in hopes a majority, if not all, of our wishes would be granted. My mom and dad were true holiday warriors as they spent many weekends battling mall crowds and congestion at the stores to grab the items. It’s something I look back on with such admiration and gratitude. Their level of care and unselfishness is something I try to carry out with my own family not only during the holidays, but each day. I’m also beginning to light up our Keys home the way my New York home magically glowed at night.
If there was one morning to wake up early, it was Christmas morning for my brothers and me. By 7 a.m., we hopped out of bed and anxiously awaited our parents to do the same as we inched our way to the living room. Turning the corner and seeing the mounds of presents, we rushed to check the tags to see where our stack stood. The ripping of wrapping paper began as my mom and dad tried to keep up with what we were all opening. I also grabbed my stocking to see if I received Reese’s Bites and mini NFL helmets that came out of the small, 50-cent machines at the store.
As I look back at the holidays as a kid, I fondly go back to the time spent with family. From the times my uncle spent the night to witness Christmas morning at the McCarthys, to hanging out with loved ones at my grandpa’s on Christmas Day, the cherished clips I replay in my head will forever be colorful Christmas memories.
