My culture tells me that the best gift I can give is unconditional love
First Person:
By Dr. Al Carlos Hernández
Suddenly glowing red, blue and amber lights are visible through foggy living room windows, while blustery cold winds lick your year-tested-face. This signals the time of year when It’s okay to say, “I love you.” Emotionally guarded and deep seated familial emotion that gains momentum throughout the year seems to pool into a Disney scripted production of color and visceral pine pricks, The smell of arroz con gandules, steaming tamales, J Lo perfume, Cool Water and the surreptitious sounds of choir and bells signal Christmas holidays.
There seems to be an almost oppressive pressure to be jolly. On the real, Christmas will never live up to childhood expectations ever again. For me, the bad outweighed the good, but then, this season is no longer about me. It’s about them. We used to slow dance at garage parties to Smile now and Cry later.
Growing up in the Federal Housing projects in a family of five kids, with two great parents who never abandoned us, there have been many tears. In hindsight more laughter then than now.
Bob Dylan could have been right when he said, “When you ain’t got nothing, you got nothing to lose.”
For me the holiday only lived up to its hype as a kid. It was magic! I still remember the songs from Perry Como and Nat King Cole. I would Dixie Peach my hair up into a Elvis pump and dance with my sister to The Jingle Bell Rock. There is no place like home for the holidays indeed, but for me there is no going back. When I hear those songs now I know every word but the lump in my throat keeps me from singing along. The best Christmas was when we woke up to find brand new bikes for all of us under the tree. For a minute our life was a 60’s network TV commercial. We rode the training wheels off that day. Who knew that Santa could find us way down in the barrio? Dad and Mom did – I still believe them. It would be great to have deep pockets and, like Elvis, buy the people that matter a Cadillac or two. My culture tells me that the best gift I can give is unconditional love. We never had a White Christmas.
The colors of the season enrapture me: the purple glowing lights dimly leaking out below the apartment door, the K Mart blue bulb ricocheting off a handmade aluminum ornament, the green cord spine of the light string snake, yellow mustard slice peering through dark green pine needles, a clear chrome pearl necklace wound down from top to bottom. There used to be these eye dropper type bulbs that at their base would glow, pink, green, gold, and would bubble and boil clear liquid through the tip. We would sit close, enveloped in the smell of the tree and watch the bulbs percolate as the hour to open the presents drew near. All of this amidst a music bed of familiar voices and well worn war stories. Voices that, deep in my heart, I will always remember and painfully miss this time around the table.
Part of the Christmas meaning for my wife and I is to search high and low for the right present for people we care for based on our knowledge of their style likes and dislikes. We try to locate that special thing that they would cherish, something that they wouldn’t buy for themselves. I think we fail more than succeed, but to us the process is more fulfilling than the desired result.
With the advent of the gift certificate, giving seems more corporate and clinical nowadays. Folks are so concerned about getting that special person the right thing that they defer to a money card purchased at a favorite store so the intended can buy their own present from you.
I decided to remember the faces, the smiles and the warm hugs of the season. I will savor the special foods and engage in intimate and meaningful conversation with loved ones during seasonal appearances. Not to look back as much as to bathe in the uniqueness of the moment; to acquiesce to the historical spirituality of the holiday and to remember that Christ is the reason for the season.