The hopes and fears of all the years...

Last night brought a twinkling, sparkling drive home from Buffalo past a cascade of Christmas lights displays--ranging from simple to elaborate and from classy to tacky--but I loved seeing them all and appreciate everyone who makes the effort.  My earliest Christmas memories begin 50 years ago in Indiana.  I remember the Christmas of 1964 as the first one when I grasped the magic of the season.  I remember visiting downtown Fort Wayne with carols piped through the decorated streets, the animatronic window displays, and big snowflakes softly falling.  The song “Silver Bells” still takes me back to those days.  I also have a vivid memory of driving around in our old 1950 Pontiac (it had been Aunt Nell’s and Grandpa B gave it to us.) The interior height of those old models was high enough that I could stand in the back and watch out the windshield at the nighttime snow rushing at the headlights so that it looked like we were heading into hyperspace (about 13 years before we knew what hyperspace was.) We were going to a church Christmas dinner where there would be enormous piles of good food and Christmas cookies as well as toys and candy for the children.  All of a sudden Christmas became so unimaginably exciting and magical to me.  I’m sure my dad was complaining about driving in the snow at the time, but it didn’t dampen my spirit a bit.  Indeed my Christmas spirit has remained quite high and childlike for the five decade since. 

Our family also loved to drive around and look at Christmas lights in the City when I was a boy. It seems to me as I look back on it now that nearly every home in Fort Wayne decorated with exterior lights. During the energy crises of the 1970s, outdoor decorating for Christmas fell into disfavor and I believe was even banned at one point. And it seems as if it has taken a long time for it to come back into fashion.  True, I don’t especially love the giant inflatables, but I love the spirit that leads people out into their yards on cold December Saturdays to brighten up the bleak midwinter, no matter what their decorating tastes.

For some reason I am writing about a different and happier “C” this week:  Christmas instead of cancer. I think I need a little Christmas, right this very minute.  There is something about having had to stare death in the face for a few weeks this fall that has made this particular Christmas more special to me: the lights glow brighter, the carols ring happier, the memories and the friends grow sweeter.  And indeed that is the heart of the Christmas narrative that we celebrate with lights and song and gifts and cookies: the baby born in Bethlehem came to meet the hopes and fears of all the years.  The year ahead seems to have more hopes and fears than usual for us, but as usual, and the lights of Christmas will guide us on our way.  God bless us everyone.