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When I was young my parents did make my sister and I go to church. We learned the advent story, and even at home there were advent candles, and advent calendar, and underneath the tree there was a manger scene with plaster figures of all of your favorites from the nativity, including the black king. It was a diverse scene. Still, I think all of the sheep were white, and there were no latinos, and Joseph and Mary were white, just like in the Bible, right?
Even with this influence, Mom only got us to a Christmas eve service once that I can remember. Until we were in our teens, Christmas was spent shuttling between grandparents homes in Dallas. We lived in different parts of Texas, and that would usually mean as soon as the last class bell would ring and the Christmas holidays would start (for in those days you could still call them that), we would be packed in the Oldsmobile and off for two weeks of being in Grandmom Newman's house.
In later years, after Granddad Newman died and Grandmom moved into a smaller place, this also meant that I would be in a sleeping bag in front of the TV set for two weeks. No wonder I came out as I did.
No, We didn't go to Christmas Eve services, or Midnight Mass, we would be with Grandmom and Granddad Newman, and possibly Aunt Suzanne and her family if they were in Dallas and Uncle Ron was talking to us that year opening presents. Christmas day you wouldn't see us in a church either as we would travel from University Park to Highland Park to Gram and Granddad Edwards' home to tear open more presents with Uncle Brian's family.
Instead of religious services we worshiped freely at the altar of commercial excess, featuring the best products from Kenner, Mattel, Coleco, Hasbro and many others. I know some of the best worship services I had involved opening some large packages that lo, they were a mystery unto us as we entered the room, but as we tore the paper asunder, we saw verily it was the Death Star, or and X-Wing fighter, or an Atari 2600 console, as we had prayed for from above.
Yes, many, many yeas ago we sent our wishes to the jolly one expecting that the giant boxes, wrapped with care came from him, but as we grew, we knew that this was faulty thinking. No, we knew that there was actually an all-powerful book that was truly the source of worship and goodness. The book was the Sears Wish Book. If you looked at the Wish Book hard enough, and circled it, and wrote down list after list, and were good, you might catch mom coming home with a package from the Sears catalog store a few weeks later.
It's funny, many of the larger Star Wars toys I had, like the Millennium Falcon, the box was covered with shipping tickets for Sears, as it was ordered from the catalog and shipped to Nacogdoches. That box, shipping tags and all now resides in a comic book store in Houston as I sold it to pay off tuition for my last year of college. It's been there several years now with a rather hefty price tag. Your childhood memories do have a pricetag...and it's expensive.
I guess for me the story Linus tells of a messiah coming to a manger a long time a go in a land far, far away was always supplanted by the prospect of getting another batch of Legos or a new game cartridge. Certainly these had more emphasis on my life. Maybe that's why I'm so cynical now.
Of course I don't get such great stuff now. All of the Grandparents are gone now, and I rarely see any of the aunts, uncles or cousins anymore. My father just gives me $100 each year, and I just go get something. Maybe it's not as magical as it once was, but then again, maybe if I was into videogames I could recapture it.
Still, I'm looking forward to being in Dallas for the holidays, just to be with the one I love. It's not as commercialized as it used to be, still, I do like this time of year. I guess I just always have different reasons for loving the season.
Even with this influence, Mom only got us to a Christmas eve service once that I can remember. Until we were in our teens, Christmas was spent shuttling between grandparents homes in Dallas. We lived in different parts of Texas, and that would usually mean as soon as the last class bell would ring and the Christmas holidays would start (for in those days you could still call them that), we would be packed in the Oldsmobile and off for two weeks of being in Grandmom Newman's house.
In later years, after Granddad Newman died and Grandmom moved into a smaller place, this also meant that I would be in a sleeping bag in front of the TV set for two weeks. No wonder I came out as I did.
No, We didn't go to Christmas Eve services, or Midnight Mass, we would be with Grandmom and Granddad Newman, and possibly Aunt Suzanne and her family if they were in Dallas and Uncle Ron was talking to us that year opening presents. Christmas day you wouldn't see us in a church either as we would travel from University Park to Highland Park to Gram and Granddad Edwards' home to tear open more presents with Uncle Brian's family.
Instead of religious services we worshiped freely at the altar of commercial excess, featuring the best products from Kenner, Mattel, Coleco, Hasbro and many others. I know some of the best worship services I had involved opening some large packages that lo, they were a mystery unto us as we entered the room, but as we tore the paper asunder, we saw verily it was the Death Star, or and X-Wing fighter, or an Atari 2600 console, as we had prayed for from above.
Yes, many, many yeas ago we sent our wishes to the jolly one expecting that the giant boxes, wrapped with care came from him, but as we grew, we knew that this was faulty thinking. No, we knew that there was actually an all-powerful book that was truly the source of worship and goodness. The book was the Sears Wish Book. If you looked at the Wish Book hard enough, and circled it, and wrote down list after list, and were good, you might catch mom coming home with a package from the Sears catalog store a few weeks later.
It's funny, many of the larger Star Wars toys I had, like the Millennium Falcon, the box was covered with shipping tickets for Sears, as it was ordered from the catalog and shipped to Nacogdoches. That box, shipping tags and all now resides in a comic book store in Houston as I sold it to pay off tuition for my last year of college. It's been there several years now with a rather hefty price tag. Your childhood memories do have a pricetag...and it's expensive.
I guess for me the story Linus tells of a messiah coming to a manger a long time a go in a land far, far away was always supplanted by the prospect of getting another batch of Legos or a new game cartridge. Certainly these had more emphasis on my life. Maybe that's why I'm so cynical now.
Of course I don't get such great stuff now. All of the Grandparents are gone now, and I rarely see any of the aunts, uncles or cousins anymore. My father just gives me $100 each year, and I just go get something. Maybe it's not as magical as it once was, but then again, maybe if I was into videogames I could recapture it.
Still, I'm looking forward to being in Dallas for the holidays, just to be with the one I love. It's not as commercialized as it used to be, still, I do like this time of year. I guess I just always have different reasons for loving the season.
