March 29, 2024

Three Generations of Christmas Spirit

Posted on December 1, 2015 by in EdNote

My mother always wrote her Christmas list on the back of an opened piece of mail…an old church bulletin, an unsolicited sales notice, an out-of-date invitation. Any envelope delivered by the postman – or its contents – was fair game. A pre-schooler during most of the 1950s, I distinctly remember Mama sitting down at the kitchen table to make “the list.” She repeated the names of family and close friends aloud before affixing each to her shopping blueprint. I could barely contain myself. Holiday-themed storefronts were beautiful, but Mama’s list made the season real. Christmas would soon be here.

As the oldest (and for several years the only) girl I was my mother’s constant shopping companion. Young and lighthearted, my mother loved Christmas and all it represented. Talking with me about gifts she might purchase fanned the excitement for us both. Like two buddies on a shopping adventure, Mama never hesitated to ask my opinion on the perfect gift for my grandmother, Dad, or my teachers. But any mention of children’s gifts was strictly off-limits. Miss Open-Heart (and Mouth), the five-year-old me just couldn’t keep all that juicy information to myself. It was a lesson Mama learned the hard way.

Together, we shopped all over downtown Montgomery as she held my hand and led me into Montgomery Fair, Klein’s, Bon Marche’ and Kress. Were they her favorite stores? I have no idea, but they were all on the same side of Dexter, and my mother was infinitely practical, especially with a child in tow.

Neither of us could hold out too long before a treat was in order. The freshly made popcorn sold just inside the Kress building was my favorite, but occasionally Mom would opt for a meal on Montgomery Fair’s mezzanine level. One Christmas season, after I bragged that Mama was taking me there for lunch, my brother scared me witless, warning that “mezzanine” referred to an era when dinosaurs ruled the planet. As my mother dragged me from the elevator, fearful and apprehensive, I anxiously surveyed the premises for prehistoric monsters. Thrilled when none materialized, I eventually relaxed. Dinosaurs or no, this mezzanine luncheonette sold a grilled cheese sandwich that was the bomb, and I wasn’t going to miss it. No one was happier with my new-found courage than Mama. As we ate, my thoughts turned back to Santa Claus and Christmas while Mom updated her list with our most-recent purchases.

After weeks of shopping, after I’d watched her neatly wrap and tag each package, Mama delivered our family’s gifts on Christmas Eve. No one could match her energy for the task, or mistake her excitement and joy in giving. It was a quality anyone who knew her recognized. It was the Spirit of Christmas.

This year, as I began my own holiday shopping list and sat down with family to discuss our seasonal plans, I saw that Spirit alive again – this time in my grown daughter’s eyes. Her dedication to family, her loving heart, and her jubilation in making others happy are abundantly apparent. My mother’s namesake, how could I have expected anything less?

May this season be full of love, hope, and happiness for us all. Merry Christmas!

Sandra Polizos, Editor primeeditor@gmail.com

Sandra Polizos, Editor
primeeditor@gmail.com

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