Christmas past

Christmas. The word conjures so many memories and so much meaning for so many people. Christmas to me always meant family. Even though my family stopped celebrating Christmas when I was pretty young, we still did things like family trips to Florida (one year it was Omaha, but that was fun, too). 

This post contains images from Christmas past. You see the living rooms of the two houses in Hot Springs we lived in. The first house had some pretty amazing red carpet. And red drapes and a couch that had a red floral pattern. Boy, somebody went overboard. Even the walls seem to be glowing red. The other house didn't have any carpeting that I recall. Maybe in one or two areas.

Some of my scans are missing, and I'm not sure what happened to them. But they showed one of my most memorable Christmases, which is when I got the LEGO police station. I was thrilled about that, stayed up all night playing with it, and didn't even want to get up in the morning to check my stocking; I wanted to play with my LEGOs! 

After moving to Ohio, my girlfriend's family insisted I partake in their Christmas traditions. Really, I didn't have a choice. Still, those years were about family and spending time with them. Holidays were hectic and I was often burned out, but it was nice to hang out and relax like I imagined the rest of the world was doing.  

I don't know what Christmas will look like in the future. Probably the same as what it looks like now. I've resigned myself to the fact that I am traditionally a loner and will probably live the rest of my life as such. Most things in life are meaningful because of the people around us, so Christmas will likely mean nothing, just like every other holiday and even my birthday mean nothing. But it's okay to look back on what I choose to believe was a simpler time (even though I know it wasn't) and enjoy the memories. I remember the tinsel that was a joy to put on the tree but horrendous to take down. I recall the smiles of those I gave gifts to (and sometimes the tears). I remember my dad reading the story of the Christ child, the fireplaces stoked Christmas Eve, their rocks still warm when we reached to grab our stockings Christmas morning. 

The most memorable Christmases were the trips to Florida. There were no gifts. There were no songs. It was just family. I recall the strangeness of Christmas decorations in a place that never sees snow. I remember the forays for souvenirs, the sunburns, the shock of seeing girls in bikinis in December, Universal Studios, pelicans instead of sparrows, crab for dinner instead of beef stew, Key lime pie instead of apple. Going back to Nebraska in the grip of winter always felt so odd. It was easy to get used to days on the beach, even though we knew it wouldn't last forever.

One year we went all the way to Key West and found the last hotel room at an El Rancho (lucky for us, as it was their second-busiest week of the year) for $100 a night (quite a lot back then). The Everglades amazed me on the drive down, and even today I'm fascinated by that peculiar ecosystem. I'm a northern latitude (and high altitude, which further imitates a hike in latitude) person. So all of the things familiar to me are thrown out the window when I travel to Florida. It's a whole new vocabulary. The language of a beach, for instance, is far more complicated than I ever imagined. Then there are the tides, the creatures that live on the beach and in the water, and the many things we've done to change the beaches and landscapes of Florida that also come into play. It is utterly fascinating, and I could spend my entire life living there still learning until the day I die. 

Yes, those family times are gone. I got to celebrate Christmases with my family as well as my ex's. Now all I have are memories. Looking forward, oh let's not do that. Let's just enjoy Christmas past and leave it at that. 

Thank you for reading, and God bless.