I see that my last blog was from last week. It's not that I've been lazy. It's that we've been busy. Ever since we went to the Russain Nutcracker two weeks ago, things have been a blur. Two days after that it was the Taste of the Holidays. Then it was shopping trips to Grand Forks. In fact, that was how we spent last weekend.
And I loved every second of it.
I usually get surprised looks when I explain how I love to shop. But it's true.
Growing up the best time of the year was our annual trip to Grand Forks for Christmas shopping. When I was a child, the mall, decked out in full Holiday regalia, Santa, mechanical dancing bears, the lights and elves, the music, and the people. It was hypnotic. And I soaked it all up.
I really started to appreciate and take part in the shopping (rather than just tagging along and never daring to venture out of reach of Mom or Dad) when I entered high school. Heading to Grand Forks meant hopping in Dad's battered old blue Chevy Silverado (Dad drove, Mom sat in the middle, and I usually listened to my headphones on the passenger side) and turning west on Highway 2. Once in Grand Forks, we'd take Gateway Drive out to a little old truck stop. There we'd have breakfast or an early lunch. Once that was over, we hit the interstate and took that south to Columbia. Once we turned on to Columbia, the anxiety began to build. I knew we were there. As a kid, I was part of enough breakdowns and wrong turns to never feel too reassured about anything. Dad always used to like to joke about how once he took the wrong turn trying to get fireworks. We headed out on the interstate. I vaguely recall it now. But he loved to remind me how frustrated I got when we headed farther and farther away. Apparently, I hadn't yet realized you can't find a quick turn off road on an interstate and have to wait for an actual exit. And in North Dakota, the exits, like the towns, are often few and far between (Kristie and I discovered this yet again last month when we helped Gail move out of her trailer house. We were driving the Uhaul to Mayville. However, we missed the exit and had to drive roughly 20 miles to find the next exit).
Once we turned onto Columbia though, I knew we had it made. You gotta love any road named after a mall. And, for me, that was what Christmas really was all about: the mall. What a place. For a kid who spent 95% of his time on a 120 acre farm feeding sheep, baling hay, and cooped up in his room, the mall was the greatest place on earth. (Hey, I even got excited over a trip to Crookston, which meant a trip to Hugos for groceries - and several heavy metal magazines and maybe even a cheap novel - and, if I was lucky, a trip to Pamida for a cassette or another cheap novel). It seemed like there were hundreds of stores -- all within walking distance.
Once I was in high school, Mom and Dad turned me loose to do my own shopping. I could have spent a whole week there. I stopped carrying so much about all the Christmas decorations. Instead I burried myself deep in B Dalton or one of the music stores. There was also the customary trip over to Spencers. This usually netted me several magazines, books, cassettes, T-shirts, and posters.
Last Saturday was not that much different. Fast forward 20 years, and I still found myself turned loose on the mall. Only this time I didn't spend much time shopping for myself. I had Kristie to shop for. KoKo and Casey are relatively easy to shop for. Well, Kristie is too, but there was a lot to do.
Like a young kid again, this time I savored the Christmas decorations and the music. I found myself longing for that old trip to the mall with Mom and Dad where I was too scared to venture far beyond their reach. I would wallow in that protection now. But it's gone. As are they. But in a bit of a tribute to them, I found Macy's Christmas section and searched for a little Christmas decoration in honor of them. I found the perfect one. It was an ornament in the shape of a Christmas tree with an oval picture in the middle. It was perfect.
Mom was a big Christmas decorator and would have loved it.
All those years ago, Mom, Dad, and I would stop at the old A&W on the way home for supper. Then we'd venture back in the dark, crammed together with the packages that were too light to set in back. At the time, I'd have my headphones on and be a million miles away. But what I wouldn't give to cram myself back into that cab for one last ride.
Thank God for Kristie and the kids. We now have new traditions to establish and nourish. Soon after we got home last Saturday, I started putting up some a new candle holder in the shape of a Christmas tree up on our dining room table. KoKo was already looking forward to decorating the whole house. "I just get a warm feeling when all the Christmas decorations are up," she told me and smiled.
Thinking about that, I walked over to a framed picture Kristie gave me for my birthday. It is a picture of Mom, Dad, and I taken on my mother's last Mother's Day. I propped up the little Christmas tree ornament next to it. I smiled. I had a warm feeling, but wasn't just from the decorations anymore. It's the memories that one forges that are the real presents.
I would never have believed that two decades ago.
2 comments:
What a beautiful entry. One that should remind all of us that Christmas is not what you talk about in your next blog entry-Black Friday and 75% off-but the "warm-feeling" one has savoring the present and relishing the past with loved ones near and dear and in our hearts.
ditto. Happy Holidays!
Post a Comment