The First O-E-L

 The first Christmas that I lived away from home, my mom sent me a bunch of things to help me celebrate away from them and in my new place.  There was an advent calendar full of tiny things to open each day, a VHS tape of her and my sisters baking cookies and showing me the tree, and some holiday decor of four trees that spelled out NOEL and ended in hearts.  I will admit now that I opened all of the advent calendar things the day I got it and watching them bake without me made me cry.  But, that decorative NOEL, I have put out every year at Christmastime for thirty years.  This year when I took it out, it no longer spelled NOEL.  Somewhere between this Christmas and last Christmas, between Texas and Illinois, I lost the N. I put it up anyway and my person and I laughed about celebrating our first O-E-L here in Illinois.  Then we laughed because if you say "O-E-L" fast, it sounds like "oh, well."  Forget Christmas!  We are celebrating OEL! Lost the N? Oh well.  Freezing cold but no snow?  Oh well.

The First O-E-L in Illinois

It has me thinking that this missing N is a common thing at holidays though.  Not necessarily the N but the feeling that we are missing something.  The feeling of holidays past we can't quite seem to replicate or the physical presence of someone who is no longer there to celebrate.  It can be a smell that we miss or a feeling or a place.  Sometimes, it can be missed enough that the rest of the holiday seems pale or passes by as just a day.  Sometimes, we try to plan in advance for what we will miss by doing something completely different than usual.  Sometimes, that works.

For the longest time, I missed holidays absolutely packed with people in a too warm house and not enough bathrooms.  I missed impatiently waiting with my cousins for Snoopy and the Red Baron to play and signify that we could finally open gifts. When I had my own kids, we made new holidays and I didn't miss the holidays of my childhood as much.  There is nothing, nothing, like the magic of a Christmas spent with small people who believe in Santa.  The sparkle! The joy!  The enchantment!  And yes, it's true that when my son found out there was no Santa, he smiled, patted my arm, and thanked me for "faking his childhood."  Still worth it when I remember him in footy pajamas shaking with excitement and my daughter waking us up at 3am to say "SANTA WAS HERE!"

After I got divorced, I spent quite a few holidays missing my kids because they were at their dad's or missing the way holidays used to be as a whole family unit.  It took awhile to get over the missing "N" and focus on what was left with my "OEL".  I will miss my kids this Christmas. I will miss them so much that I had Amazon deliver their presents to me so that I could wrap them and write "Love, Santa" with my left hand and mail them on.  A silly way to spend an extra $25 but oh, well.  My daughter texted and asked for the recipes for cookies and knowing she will be making them there, that she wants to carry on with the smells and tastes of her childhood memories, that really makes me happy.  

I think that with holidays and memories stored mainly in the heart and not the brain, it is so easy to get caught up on what seems to be missing.  You might be searching for a loud house, the smell of Crunchy Fudge Sandwiches, snow, kids waiting for Santa, a certain movie to watch, a person to hold.  You might want those things so very much that you can't picture this holiday with out it.  Like my NOEL, minus the N, it looks sort of the same but not as good as it once did.  I hope that even though your N is missing, that you get the chance to step back and see that the OEL is still there.  It might be way too soon for you to really appreciate your OEL with no N and that is okay too. 

I am happy that I have something from my first Christmas away that has survived at least one million moves.  It reminds me of how much I was and am loved by the family I moved away from.  Putting it up reminds me of how many Christmases it stood by as my kids were born and grew up.  Putting it up and laughing about no N with my person makes this new place feel more like home.  

I know we have more moves ahead of us and despite moving 170,000 times in the last five years, I also do not always pack the best.  So many of the ornaments that have ears lost their ears in this recent move.  There is a very good chance that more letters could fall off of the OEL.  I also know, it could lose all it's letters and be down to the string and I would still put it out.  I would just think "oh,well" as I stood in front of a beautiful tree of ear-less ornaments and smile about all the Christmases past.

Tradition

I think that everyone should have a 96 year old neighbor living across the street from them.  It really gives you perspective on things.  When they first moved in, I took cookies over to our neighbor and his much younger bride.  (Bride.  They were newlyweds!)  He thought this was a wonderful gesture and proceeded to remind me each time someone new moved in that I should do the same for them.  So I would – sometimes happily, sometimes grudgingly, but he was right, it was a nice thing to do.  He also hated to see women mowing the lawn.  Any time he saw me out there cutting the grass, Bill or I would hear about it later.  He would provide us with a comment, a harrumphing tone, or a haughty eyebrow indicating his disapproval.  And again, in a way, he was right.  Not in that women shouldn’t cut grass, but women who hate to cut grass and don’t have to really should not.  Bill likes to cut the grass and I was not really helping him at all by periodically butchering the lawn.

Our neighbor took an active interest in our kids, in the families around him and in doing so made all of us get involved with each other as well.  It is easy to just pull into your garage at night and forget that there are families living along side you raising their kids as you raise yours.  He and his wife have an uncanny way of getting us to be invested in those around us.  For a long time, they were front and center at all the neighborhood activities, showing the rest of us that it is wise to make the time to invest in others.  They showed us that it is important to carve out a sense of community and to truly get to know the people along your fence line.

Our neighbor is a quiet member of that Greatest Generation.  He served in World War II, but he deemed his service not as important as others.  He would not talk much about the war or his part in it.  He would dismiss it like it was no big deal but he was out there at sunrise every holiday that required a flag, unfurling his American flag, hoisting it up and smartly saluting it before going back inside.  The first time I saw him do this, I was instantly choked up.  There was something so beautiful in this old man who stood a little more stooped over each year, but became ramrod straight when it came to saluting his flag.  

Sadly, we have watched our neighbor’s health decline over the last few years.  All of us holding our breath as he walked to the mailbox, not sure if he would get there or not, but there was no way to offer this proud man a hand.  Or as his hearing declined, conversations became more of loud HELLLOOOOOS and thumbs ups rather than discussions on things.  It was hard for this proud man to decline, hard on his wife to shoulder it and sad for the rest of us to see a cornerstone of our community crumbling.  When he was taken to the hospital last month and things looked very dire indeed, we sat down and told the kids.  They both burst into tears and our 11 year old said “But he has always been there.”  He has a sense of permanence in both their memories and his presence has been a source of continuity and comfort for all of us.  However, I think that what this man has instilled in all of us the most is a sense of tradition.  

Ditcionary.com defines tradition as the handing down of statements, beliefs, legends, customs, information, etc., from generation to generation, especially by word of mouth or by practice.  Our neighbor has helped us to realize that tradition can be so much more than that.  It can be starting something and following through with it every time whether you feel like it or not – like in the case of cookies for new neighbors.  Or that tradition can ensue when you take the time to get to know the people around you and start sharing your life and your children's lives with each other.  Or that simply, tradition can be that you continue to do what someone has done before you.  In our case, with our neighbor winding down his days in hospice, we chose to honor him and his sense of tradition by continuing to raise his flag for him.  It was a beautiful and bittersweet moment on the 4^th of July as my Canadian husband and 9 year old son unfurled our neighbor’s American flag, hung it with care and then stepped back to salute it, just as our neighbor would have done.  

It didn’t take much time or effort but it helped cement for us that with just a little forethought and some consideration, tradition can be a constant in our lives as well.  Thank you, Bentley.