When I was a kid, what I truly cared about during Christmas was the getting, the receiving, and the opening of my allotment of gifts placed beneath the Christmas tree. As I unwrapped the box and saw the item that, until then, I had only dreamed of possessing, this was my pleasure: the jacket my Grandma gave me, the toy jet plane my dad gave me, the book my mother gave me, or the puzzle my brother gave me. Despite being the beneficiary of many cherished gifts, something I misunderstood in my youth was this spirit of giving and sharing.
Now I admit that, beginning on Thanksgiving and continuing until about the day after Christmas, I am concerned, worried even that I have not given enough; that I am taking advantage of holiday sales to buy myself something special; that, in fact, I have given nothing; that the gift I selected is too small of an acknowledgment of my love, my friendship and my kinship with my friends and family; that the recipient would be able to measure and mark the quantity of thought I put into a gift and thereby judge it inadequate; and that still I am missing out on an authentic experience of the season. I wish I had a limitless amount of time, a bottomless budget, the perfect memory and unflinching humility to grant everyone in my life a delightful surprise this Christmas, yet I am sure that I could give more.
Grandma, Grandpa and Seb snuggle up during a night cap at Las Campanas.
Although in the past I used to care about Christmas things, now I care more about the Christmas experience. Which, for me, is the tenderness between my family and friends, both in this neighborhood and abroad. For me, the Christmas experience is an expression of the Golden Rule, which I understand as giving another human being, friend or stranger, the best possible and imaginable treatment appropriate for any particular situation. As when, during their recent visit, my mom and dad treated Elia, Seb, Amelia and me to a stay at the Mission Inn in Riverside, where we enjoyed an afternoon and evening of sitting together and chatting in the splendor or an historic place and amidst a festival of light. Of course, we missed sharing these moments with some key family members and friends of ours–which would be just about everyone I can think of, regardless of religious bent.
This season we will experience the company of our family in Playas de Tijuana.
This year, I really, truly hope and believe that my understanding of the Christmas experience has advanced and branched out, and that next year, I will be able to apply this understanding for a maximum benefit for all those within a wide periphery and throughout the several circles I know. But until then, I will not make any excuses or attempt to defend any of my failed attempts to give more. Since I still have another day or two, I want to go ahead now, give you my prayers and wish you and your family a blessed Christmas and, ultimately, a righteous New Year.
Amen.
The Meandering Sidewalk 