When I was in grade school, every year at this time, my father would tell us to put on our warm coats and get in the car. It was Christmas light hunting night. I'd grab my favorite coat, as somehow my mother always made sure I had these beautiful, interesting winter coats and run out the front door.
My brother and I would race to the car, shoving and pushing to get the seat behind my dad in the old Impala. The air would be crisp and cold, the stars bright and our breath appeared like smoke in front of our our faces. In the true spirit of Christmas, one of us would call the other, "stupid", or "jerk" and my dad would give us his "knock it off or we aren't going" look.
My mother brings hot cocoa in a thermos with extra cups, some napkins and hustles us to hurry and get into the car. If I tripped my brother just right I sometimes managed the proverbial choice seat behind my dad. Excitement rang in the air, as this was the beginning to the last nights before Christmas.
After enduring weeks and hours of Catholic masses, bending to our knees, smelling incense, beating our chests with rosary beads and dodging holy water in our hair we are finally able to enjoy the more commercial side of Christmas. My father finds a radio station with Christmas music as my mother begins to sing with her lyrical soprano voice. I begged they turn up the heat ... always the girl who hates to be cold.
We'd drive the back roads of Sonoma County making our way to Santa Rosa's West side, known then as the Montgomery Village area. There, known to everyone is a street called, "Christmas Tree Lane". It is a looped street with large one-story homes, massive front lawns, and everyone, and I say, everyone on this loop decorated their homes for Christmas. It was the contest of the year.
Excitement would build as we turn the car onto the Lane and the first Christmas display reveals itself. Lot's of "ohhhh's, awwws and oh my God's" echoed through the car. My dad pulls the car over and there we'd sit gazing at this long row of homes covered in all varying types of Christmas decoration. There were the many manger scenes, some with actual sheep (we were a farm town people), large wooden statues of elves, Santa flying on a roof, angels hanging from trees, flashing stars and a mix of large Christmas lights.
We'd slowly move down the street pointing out every little detail. I was sure Santa was a secret angel who created this magic just for us. Towards the end of the loop my father would flip a u-turn and park the car with the heater running. My mother pours us hot chocolate and we'd sit there admiring this special gift many strangers created for our viewing pleasure. I always expected that somehow Santa would come running down the street and wave yelling, "Catherine you are getting the life-size Barbie this year!"
Finally, when we felt we had seen it all, and my dad would grow weary from his long workday, we'd slowly drive out of the loop, out from Christmas Tree Lane. I was sure the people who lived there had some special relationship with Santa and their kids probably got amazing gifts. Although, my parents always did an wonderful job at making Christmas something special for me and my brother. Hell, Christmas morning I used to wake everyone up at 4:30 am screaming, "Santa came! Santa came! Santa came!” Only to have my mother beg and plead with me to go back to bed. I thought she was nuts.
I go back to bed and lay there in agony not understanding why no one else was bounding out of bed. Finally, my dad, fresh from about an hours worth of sleep would get up out of bed. He couldn't sleep knowing I was laying in my bed desperately waiting for everyone to get up, so he would get up, put on his robe and come take my hand. He would start by saying we HAD to go get coffee percolating. I soooooooooo get why now.
My mother would then rise and get my brother. My brother would come out, see the time and look at me like I was the she-devil he was convinced I was. I am sure I ruined just about every holiday for him from the minute I was born. Since I was born on the 4th of July at 5:30pm, he didn't get to do fireworks that year. I then subsequently stole the thunder for the holiday every year after. Let’s not even discuss how truly nutty I was for Christmas.
Hell, I still am.
Tonight Brian and I went for our "look at lights" night. They aren't as plentiful as the once were, although we can find that occasional small block that out shines the rest of Santa Rosa. There is one favorite of ours where Santa's reindeer are towing a classic VW Bug. We laugh every time we see it. Santa is styling these days.
I hope Brian remembers all his Christmas' with me the way I remember mine with my dad. A very Merry Christmas everyone. May you find joy in all the little moments.... silent night...holy night... all is calm...all is bright...
...sleep in heavenly peace...
Until next time-
C
