Having been a father for a few years, Christmas in present times more resembles what it was like for me as a lad so many decades ago. I’m now starting to see the similarities through the eyes of my tykes, and it brings on a great deal of nostalgia.
The selection of gifts that I would include in a carefully-crafted letter to Santa, while being mindful to include a couple questions or compliments for the man in red so I didn’t come off as too desperate or greedy. Enjoying an Advent calendar and all its delightful bounty for the month of December leading up to the big day. The thrill of waking up on Christmas morning, realizing you had in fact managed to sleep and the time had passed to within striking distance of seeing what was under the tree for the first time – only to realize it was 5:20 a.m. and still far too early to potentially wake your folks. That last hour or so of waiting is no doubt the longest on record for any kid.
Well, that last one doesn’t overly apply to my four and two year old just yet – when their eyes open in the morning is generally the time they opt to wake my wife and I as well. But you catch my drift.
As you get older into your teenage years and into your twenties, a focus on others really becomes priority. Gift buying for family and friends is typically more at the forefront than receiving. Actually, the older I get the more I feel less of a need to exchange gifts with anyone at all. As long as the kids have a great Christmas, I’m more than content to just watch them tear through their presents, and overindulge more in the dinner aspect to come later that day.
I spent two (technically three) Christmases in Calgary when I moved out west from 2009 to late 2011. They were unlike any other I celebrated here in Ontario. In Alberta, I had a small circle of friends largely from out-of-province like myself who were spending the holidays in their adopted home away from their families. A lot of it had to do that we weren’t exactly flush with cash and couldn’t afford to fly home, with the added expense of gift buying to follow.
And so we Ontarians, Nova Scotians and British Columbians-turned Albertans banded together to mark the holidays. Mostly marked by a ridiculous amount of booze.
I realize the “irony” in not having money for a plane ticket but having ample reserve funding to pillage the liquor store. As a seasonal worker, it was really the only time of year that I had money to burn after receiving my annual Christmas bonus, and before the long, lean winter months spent on EI. But I was in my mid-twenties and had zero responsibilities other than ensuring the bills were paid (relatively) on time.
My buddy and I rented a decent-sized townhouse so we had the room to play host for two of those Calgary Christmases. He was also a decent cook, so it was a foregone conclusion that our friends would come over to our place to celebrate the occasion.
Dinner prep typically began early, and so by mid-morning the coffee with a Bailey’s back would eventually morph into a Budweiser or a gin and tonic, almost without even noticing. After friends arrived in the early afternoon for further holiday merriment, it was amazing we even made it to dinner. Some didn’t. Or some did, but didn’t (couldn’t) eat.
No gifts were usually exchanged, and if you did happen to give or receive it was generally in the form of more booze, which was then drank together anyway. It was always a sloppy if not enjoyable production, and perhaps the best part was that even if your hangover happened to last all the way through Boxing Day and beyond into Dec. 27 (Dec. 28?), it didn’t matter in those days. You had nowhere to be and no obligations to fulfill.
Really the only thing you had to fill was the couch for the days to follow. Ample time to recharge for New Year’s Eve, when you would do it up twice as hard.
Those crazy, booze-filled, carefree Christmases of yore seem more like 100 years ago rather than just 10. It’s like a completely other life to where I am now. I suppose it’s something some people have to get out of their system when they’re young. I could probably be considered a slower learner than some.
It’s fun to tell stories of those times with some of the people you shared them with. But to actually relive them in any capacity nowadays would be both impossible and not enticing in the slightest. Anyone who has any experience parenting hungover can attest to that I’m sure.
Thanks for reading, happy holidays and I’ll see you back here in a fortnight in 2022.
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This is a bi-weekly opinion column; for question or comment contact Dan McNee at dmcnee@midwesternnewspapers.com.
