An Introvert's Christmas Eve
 

An Introvert’s Christmas Eve

Christmas is traditionally a time for togetherness. I admit I enjoyed the shopping crowds when we still did that, and I still like being with family. But at some point, I need my alone time – time to reflect on things past, things lost, and things gained. I enjoy - no, I need to experience a few moments of quiet reflection and warm melancholy alone at the end of the rush and bustle of Christmas. I have a Christmas eve tradition that I’ve held on to for nearly 50 years that gives me those minutes of quiet. But one year I enjoyed my alone time in a special way, on a motorcycle ride. The annual hub bub of friends and family time ended early that Christmas eve. And I was not ready for bed. I had probably had a glass or two of wine when I geared up and got on my BMW near midnight and took a ride.
I rode past my old elementary school, where we had Christmas parties and gift exchanges every year. One year our teacher brought in ice cream in those one-gallon blocks, and it had a green Christmas tree cast into it right through the center. Everyone got a slice of ice cream with a Christmas tree right in the middle. After 60 years I remember that slice of ice cream like it was yesterday. Every class had a gift exchange. Gifts were usually some trinket of a toy, but one year some kid got a pair of socks and burst into tears. I knew the kid who gave her the socks and he was oblivious, laughing and going on like that little tragedy wasn’t happening and he had nothing to do with it. I felt sorry for both of them.
I rode into town past the Friend’s Church we attended, where my brother and I “acted” in so many Christmas pageants. We had parties on the nights we practiced, and every year at one of the parties Santa made a visit. This was an event for me even after I knew Santa was bogus. The little kids were so excited, and the adults were trying so hard to make it special for them. I, being a Wise Man at 10 years of age (I always played a Wise Man in the Pageant) watched it all unfold with a knowing, almost adult, eye.
I drove on to the farm where I grew up. The farmstead sat at the end of a ¼ mile gravel lane. There were no lights on in the house, and BMW oilheads don’t make much noise, so I eased down the lane. Things had changed a lot it 30 years, but I recognized the barn, milk house, and sheds where I learned to do grown up work and be a productive part of the family, not just a mouth to feed. That has been a source of pride for me for my entire life. And this is where it all developed.
I took a long look at the big farmhouse we lived in. Eleven months out of the year when the Sears catalog arrived, I went straight to the lady’s underwear pages, but not the Christmas edition. How many December nights had I spent on the living room floor next to our stinking oil heating stove, paging through the Sears catalog at the incredible toys that I knew I was never destined to own. Christmas morning our family of four gathered in front of the Christmas tree and my brother and I opened “what Santy brought us.” I usually got one good gift and a bunch of stuff I was indifferent to. When I shopped for my brother’s gift, I inevitably bought something I would like to have, and I think he did the same. So we always got one thing we really, really wanted. Later in the day the extended family gathered at the house, with cousins and grandparents exchanging gifts, and a huge meal. It wasn’t until I became an adult that I realized the generational significance of this gathering. This was the glue that held the family together. The glue failed when my grandparents died. I never see my cousins anymore.
We left that farm and moved to town when I was 12. This was the first (and only) time I ever went back. A light came on in the house and I clicked the BMW into first and eased back down the lane.

It was cold and I was a good 30 miles from home by then. I had forgotten to wear gloves and I was freezing, but I took time to drive past the farm where I worked when I was 15. The moon was bright and glistened on the snow-covered fields that I had spent so many hours working as a kid. I road past a flat 40-acre field and recalled the day the farmer, Maynard, told me to put the rotary hoe on the back of the 3020 and hoe the beans in this field. Maynard put me, me in charge of a brand new John Deere tractor and a 12 foot batwing rotary hoe. I stopped and stared at that field for a long time before heading home, still astonished and proud that I was trusted with such responsibility at the age of 15.
I crawled into my bed when I returned home, happily alone, and fell asleep listening to the Mormon Tabernacle Choir sing, “Still, Still, Still” just as I always had and continue to do to this day.

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Damn you can tell a good story. Merry Christmas to you and Vicki.

had a nice quiet plan. then...

our neighbors, the crazies, have four foster kids. two are about eighteen and ready to get on with their ives. mrs crazy decides to accept two more. for a while they'll have six. then the state says there's an emergency with two little kids and needs to park them somewhere for a few weeks.

that's 8 if you're keeping up.


so my dingbat wife announces that we are going to host Christmas for the horde. i'm buying duplos and paw patrol crap. have a milk crate full of fireworks. she's cooking a ton of food. super mario cued up on tv. busy hiding pot and guns.

WOW WDfifteen, thank you, you told your story beautifully, I could see your teacher slicing the ice-cream. While I grew up pretty close to the exact opposite of you so much of what you said resonates with me. I grew up on a barrier Island in New Jersey but so much was similar to my growing up school plays and Christmas parties, going to church and gathering with family and the Mormon Tabernacle choir on the TV.

Thank you for sharing and Merry Christmas.

Good stuff sir... thanks for sharing. Best to you and yours. Merry Christmas

Merry Christmas, everyone!

Mrs Varmint = crazy, but with a great heart!

Great story! I'd like to do something like that, except I'm far, far away from those places and times. Glad to learn it brought such tranquility. I hope your (& everyone else's here) coming year will be a great one.

Lovely story. Hope you are continuing to feel better.

My wife has a big family that lives in town and the holidays are stuffed with visits with her kids and extended family. It's a blessing when her alcoholic ex doesn't show up at one of these events. So far this holiday season we have been blessed in that regard at least.

I love most of them, but seek out time alone when I can. Take the dogs on a walk. Wrench on a car for a bit. Hide in my basement and watch a movie. The other day it was dry and cold. I took the 356 out for a nice drive with some xmas tunes on the old radio. Today is another long one. Merry Christmas!

Wd, that was a fantastic story. The way you told it, I felt I was right alongside you. Merry Christmas, David

As always, thanks for a great read. You never disappoint.

Strangely, when I went back to visit the small farm where I spent at least one or two weekends a month while growing up, I was amazed at how small it seemed and how close all the buildings were to each other from what I'd remembered. Of course, by then it had been sold, and was waiting a conversion to a subdivision; my cousin and I were taking a final look before the bulldozers arrived, and we were really just visiting a ghost and searching for a souvenir.

http://forums.pelicanparts.com/uploa...1703522949.jpg
http://forums.pelicanparts.com/uploa...1703522949.jpg
http://forums.pelicanparts.com/uploa...1703522949.jpg

No better companion to soothe the sole than a airhead BMWhttp://forums.pelicanparts.com/uploa...1703522000.jpg

Very nice. I agree about the Grandparents being the "glue." I called one of my favorite Cousins yesterday. I spent Christmas Eve just like you. A huge family at Grandma's house. It was amazing.

That sounds like a well spent evening. Time to have a really good think about things and to refresh memories.

I live alone so solitude is my constant companion, but Patrick describes the expereience very nicely.

my wife is a kind person who loves small children. i am an ******* with a short fuse.

they were here for four hours. only broke a couple things. i assembled some bicycles. lord they were loud. after hour three the dogs were hiding. never got to the fireworks.

Great story. I've visited my parents and grandparents former
properties like that. Grandparent's place had a long lane too.

I do miss the kids. My sister's have 4 and 5. Quite the event whenever they both showed up. I am the youngest by a lot, so wasn't much older than the older nieces and nephews.

They'd wear me out and I'd disappear for a while to recover. Fun times. They're still a lot of fun as adults. Great bunch of kids.

This hits hard.

"Later in the day the extended family gathered at the house, with cousins and grandparents exchanging gifts, and a huge meal. It wasn’t until I became an adult that I realized the generational significance of this gathering. This was the glue that held the family together. The glue failed when my grandparents died. I never see my cousins anymore."

Thanks for the story.

Merry Chirstmas! I was in the land of no internet (my mom's house it the town I grew up in) and your story echoes a lot of themes of my childhood. My grandparents were the glue of my family, too, and I miss them very much.

At that age, I always preferred Montgomery Wards. :)