This is my daddy. Several years ago (more than I’m sure he’d care to admit at this point). I found this picture when going through some old photos and trying to catalogue a few for my own history keeping. As Caden started playing football this year and has asked for some football items for Christmas, I was thrilled to find this photo of my dad when he was about 9 or 10 with his Christmas morning present of football gear. He looks ready to play, crouched in position with his football in front of him, the all-important watch football players wear on their wrists. Yeah, I’m assuming that was probably a Christmas gift, too, because I don’t think a kid goes to sleep Christmas Eve with a watch on. Well, unless they are torturing themselves watching the minutes tick by until they can get up LEGALLY and awake the parentals with pleas and implorements to head downstairs to see what Santa might have brought by.
I can’t believe Christmas is only 5 days away. I wish it were 15. This is my favorite time of year and because of the late Thanksgiving, I feel like I haven’t really had adequate time to enjoy and celebrate the season. Instead of four weeks of excitement, anticipation, and stress of getting gifts all together, a mere three weeks is all that there is essentially for enjoying the “official” Christmas season.
What gives? Yo, calendar-planning people, couldya maybe stretch it out a few days longer next year? Maybe we could add in a few days like November 31-35 or December 1.5 or 6.8 or something like that. Let’s just make up new days so the celebration and festivities can last a bit longer.
Of course, stretching out the days before Christmas would be more opportunities of temptation – those fantastical beastly feasts, the caramely-chocolately-drippedy goodness that never ends, the sweet sumptuous smell of peppermint, and oodles and gads of heaped over plates of appetizers being passed around forever and ever. Hmmm, it may doom some to pack on a few extra pounds with those extra days added in. But it would all be worth it, don’t you think? Running in freezing cold temps this time of year to lose extra poundage ain’t so bad…once your chest stops hurting from the artic cold, your nose becomes permanently frozen so that it stops running all over your face, the wind doesn’t bite anymore because you’ve lost all feeling and can’t recognize that frostbite has begun and your left toe has just fallen off. Seriously, not that bad.
But back to the picture above. One of the best reasons for the season I can think of is just the memories of how it was growing up. The combustible anticipation that makes you want to explode as a child. We were never allowed downstairs early in my house. So we sat at the top of the stairs, flattening ourselves as best we could at the top to be able to see around the corner at all the presents that surrounded our overstuffed Christmas tree.
That’s another thing. The Brewster tradition (which started with my Grandpa Brewster, I believe) is to buy the biggest, most ridiculously over-sized pinion pine tree possible and shove it into the front room so that when visitors come into the room, they have to maneuver around the tree to just find a place to stand or maybe – gasp! – even sit. We only buy pinion pines and my dad has a dealer that is probably the only guy left in Utah to even sell these types of trees. Yes, a Christmas tree dealer is a coveted thing, let me tell you what. Christmas is serious business in our family, secret handshakes and all.
I haven’t bought into the ginormous pinion pine tree as yet because I need a partner in crime whom I might cajole into doing all the dirty work. Trees have sap. I have clothes that have an aversion to sap. So until Mr. What’s-His-Face is permanently in the picture, I will have to make do with my fake firs that just need yearly fluffing.
I just can’t wait for another Christmas morning. But then again, I can. Combustible anticipation all over. 🙂