Forcing myself into the spirit

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas and quite frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn.  I’m not into it this year and to be quite honest, I wasn’t in to it last year either.  I’m tired of the insane amounts of gifts that pile under the tree, so many that the girls start to glaze over halfway through opening them and we have to take a break.  Take a break opening presents?  Yes, it happened last year and I declared I would never let that happen again.  It’s grandparents.  They can’t stop themselves and tend to go overboard. My mom is starting to get the hang of it and has migrated to the one gift rule.  One gift is all they get from my parents.  God bless them!  God Bless us everyone!  I already know my mom made a sock monkey for Aurelia and Lena is getting a princess dress.  They will love their gifts and they will be able to remember what my parents gave them.  

I want to bring back the simplicity of Christmas.  Cutting a tree down, decorating the tree with homemade ornaments, making cookies with friends, attending a Christmas Eve service to belt out Christmas songs, being around people you love, and giving a few meaningful or useful gifts is all I really want Christmas to be.   That’s it. 

Since moving to Juneau, getting a tree has never been fun.  The most commonly used Christmas trees here are spruce and I don’t like them because they are too pokey and the needles fall out fast. Once, I broke down and bought a tree and it just seemed fake to me.  I grew up with Bull Pines.  A good Bull Pine Christmas tree is hard to find here because they are slightly different from the ones in Ketchikan. 

Growing up, my dad and I, along with another family, would all pile in the skiff and head across the channel over to Gravina Island.  We went to the same spot every year and always had luck.  We would cut down a bunch of trees, load them into the skiff and drive them back to the dock.  I truly feel that getting a tree needs to involve a skiff.  Screw strapping a tree to the top of your car!  Loading a skiff so full with trees that you can’t see the person operating the outboard in the back, is definitely the way to go.

My Mountain Billy Goat

I do own a skiff, but I figured we have a perfectly fine muskeg directly behind my house.  I carried Aurelia on my back, Addison carried the saw and snowshoes and Lena carried her ladybug backpack filled with chocolate.  I was worried that Lena was going to breakdown and ask to be carried, but she impressed me so much!  There wasn’t a trail to follow, unless you count the deer trails, but Lena flew up that hillside with agility and strength. 

Watching her reminded me of the first time I went into the woods when I was about her age.  My dad took me deer hunting and I remember being mesmerized by the rich green damp forest as I climbed over mossy logs, trying to avoid the snapping branches my dad was setting into motion.  When we got back to the boat, my mom asked my dad how I did.  He told her that my new name was “Mountain Billy Goat,” a nickname that stuck, and I held on to it with pride whenever dad and I would go in the woods.  I remember being so happy that my father was proud of me, even though I was too talkative for us to get a deer. 

Lena was my “Mountain Billy Goat” as she climbed over logs, took blueberry bushes to the face, sunk in the mud up to her knees, and kept on going singing all the way.  However, she asked me not to call her a goat and said it was offensive.  Sigh.

Aurelia's Chariot

We hiked about ¾ of a mile up to a muskeg that would hopefully produce a tree.  I strapped on my snowshoes and off we went to find a tree.  The snow in the muskeg was about three feet deep, and Lena was light enough to walk across the snow without sinking, most of the time.  Looking around the muskeg, I got worried because all the Bull Pines were warped and very funky resembling trees from a Dr. Seuss book.  Finally we found one that would do.  It’s a bit “Charlie Brown-ish,” but those are the best kind.  Addison cut it down and we headed back down the hill.  Lena did have a bit of a meltdown on the way back down, but we worked through it and eventually she was jumping off logs and excited to put up the tree.

Today, while Lena was at the Nutcracker, Aurelia and I went to a friend’s house and made cranberry and popcorn garland while listening to Frank Sinatra croon Christmas songs.  Aurelia carefully poked the cranberries with a threaded needle, and with minimal help from me, she made a beautiful garland. 

Swimsuits, the new "it" wear

Tonight we decorated our tree while listening to Handel’s Messiah.  The girls were wearing swimsuits, of course, because that’s the most sensible attire while trimming a tree.  Meanwhile, Chillcat was eyeing the tree, plotting his midnight adventure to climb up it.   It was simple, and perfect.

I can’t control how many gifts the girls are given or how fake Christmas fanfare is jammed down their throats every time they turn around.  But, I do hope that they will see through the plastic garbage and candy coated Christmas goo, and instead hold on to memories of picking out a tree from our backyard, stringing cranberries and popcorn together to create garland, and the Christmas their grandmother gave them a homemade sock monkey. 

There’s the true meaning of Christmas that we’re constantly reminded of, but I also believe the true meaning of Christmas is how it makes us feel and how we make others feel.  We shouldn’t feel overwhelmed or disgusted.  We should just feel happiness, kindness and love.  If I can stay steady on that path, I think I can start digging Christmas again.