It’s the most wonderful time of the year! Goodbye Halloween, hello November and the holly jolly holiday season! And that means I can now begin my Christmas carol celebration! I’m starting things off with a little bit of Percy Faith and his orchestra—nothing overly festive because it’s early yet, but just enough for me to get that rush of emotion.
I’m not even sure I can put into words how Christmas music makes me feel. It’s like I just waltzed into Disney World alongside Josh Groban as he croons softly in my ear to discover Mickey Mouse waiting to tell me I’m the sole winner of the Mega Millions. Yeah, that about covers it.
As soon as I hear that first note I’m magically transported back to my childhood. The holiday season was the most amazing part of every year, and the best part of being a kid. I yearn for those days with every fiber of my being and I want my children to grow up enchanted by those feelings, too.
When I was a kid, we always celebrated Christmas with my mom’s side (she is one of seven children). I have 21 cousins, so the holidays were always a boisterous affair, with wrapping paper strewn all over the floor, toys and games scattered in every nook and cranny, and the joyful sound of us kids begging Dziadziu to play everyone’s favorite Christmas song: “Santa Must Be Polish!” Man, those were the days.
I have so many wonderful memories from back then. We would pile into our car in the early evening for Christmas Eve mass, which was always beautifully enacted. I remember one year—my favorite year—our priest told the typical Nativity Story, but as he spoke the last words, Santa Claus appeared seemingly out of nowhere at the back of the church. Illuminated only by the light from the dozens of candles we parishioners held, he slowly sauntered down the long, red-carpeted aisle, knelt by Baby Jesus’ manger, and bowed his head to pray and offer up a gift to Our Lord. The silence in our church was deafening that night. No one spoke a word or rustled a page. And then the organist began to play a hauntingly beautiful version of “O Holy Night” that perfectly captured the essence of this touching scene. Quite honestly, that was the best version of the Nativity Story I’ve ever witnessed, and I think of it often and fondly.
I used to look forward to Christmas Eve mass every year when I was younger. I wouldn’t say it was the highlight of the holiday for me, but it was the one time during the holidays that my family sat together in peace, love, and silence—one moment in an ocean of moments to remember the reason we all come together this time of year.
But then the spell would break.
My entire family would descend on Babu & Dziadziu’s house for homemade pierogis and bobka. It was the same every year: 100-plus pierogis bursting with potato/cheese, sauerkraut, cheese, and blueberry; and loaf after loaf of walnut, poppyseed, and prune butter bobka. Not to mention the oodles of Christmas cookies that my mom and aunts used to make! Nom noms! We used to have contests for who could eat the most pierogis—and I’m pretty sure my dad was always a contender (go dad!).
Christmas Eve was usually an early night for us. We pretty much ate dinner and dessert and then went home to bed to await Jolly Ole Saint Nick. Not that my brother and I ever slept, mind you. We stayed awake listening for the pitter patter of tiny hooves up on the rooftop (click, click, click), sometimes sneaking to the top of the stairs for a quick look! Even today—at the age of 40—it’s still hard for me to sleep on Christmas Eve, and I hope that childhood excitement never goes away.
My brother and I (and later my sister) would wake early on Christmas morning—I’m talking 5 a.m. people!—ready to dive into the pile of presents under the tree. And what a huge pile it was! My parents didn’t have much money back then, but you’d never know it on Christmas. We opened toy after toy after toy with wild abandon. It was every child’s piece of heaven and I will always be grateful to my parents for making the holidays so enchanting!
Believe it or not, though, my most cherished memories are not of the gifts but the warm and happy smiles on my parents’ faces, the scintillating smell of fresh coffee wafting from the kitchen, Andy Williams playing softly in the background, and the ooey gooey Pillsbury cinnamon rolls my mom would bake for breakfast. And how she always made enough cinnamon rolls so that my dad, brother, sister, and I would each get a soft, squishy middle bun! Our “fights” over that middle still make me laugh.
We’d open every toy and play all morning, pestering my dad to assemble, assemble, assemble. It became a running joke in our family: how much my dad hates putting anything together. Toys, furniture, you name it, LOL!
And then it was back to Babu & Dziadziu’s house for dinner and more presents (yay!). Each family would pull up their favorite spot on the floor, waiting patiently for Dziadziu to take his seat near the tree and hand out the gifts. We became so wrapped up in our toys that the day would pass by in a blur. I barely remember any of those details, to be honest. All I remember is the pure, unadulterated happiness emanating from that house.
Yes, Christmas back then was always a magical, festive, family-oriented day—and one we all took for granted. I miss that warm, homey, peaceful feeling of knowing all is right with the world (even when it wasn’t), and I want my kids to feel that so badly. I want my kids to remember how our house smells of cinnamon, vanilla, and caramelized sugar on Christmas cookie day. I want my kids to remember snuggling on the couch every night in December during our “25 days of Christmas” movie countdown. I want my kids to remember decorating our “storybook” Christmas tree with the ornaments we handpicked any time we visited a new place together as a family, reliving the memories of trips long past.
My whole world today is steeped in tradition and I hope one day my children will understand why they are so important to who we are as a family. These “traditions” are the stepping stones of our life together, and I can’t wait to see what’s next on our extraordinary journey.