Someone had flipped the calendar; it read December 1962 - Advent Season, my favorite time of the year. In America they called it Christmas season. I noticed the entire neighborhood, including my in-laws, busied themselves with putting strings of electrical lights on their houses and front yards trees. Some had lit up statues of a jolly Santa Claus, reindeer, or a snowman placed under trees or by the front door. After dark, the illuminated houses and yards gave a feeling of a supernal place. We bundled up and took Patrizia through this sea of lights and her big brown eyes glistened in wondrous delight. During our walks, I learned that Santa Claus came in a sleigh, loaded with gifts for all children, pulled by eight reindeer, and Rudolf, …show more content…
Unresolved resentments resurfaced, and I decided that he would no longer exist in my new world. He simply had died should people ask about my father. For all I cared, he was a reindeer named Rudolf. A few days before Christmas, I tried to find out if my in-laws were planning to put up a Christmas tree. Mamma, my mother-in-law responded quickly, and as usual mispronouncing my name in her Pidgin English. “Oh Erreega, in our Italian culture there is no Christmas tree, Santa Claus, or Christkindl. We have Belfana, the good Witch, who brings presents to all children on Epiphany, January 6. However, for Christmas, we enjoy our Nativity Scene, which we’ll display Christmas Eve on the living room coffee table.” She continued her speech. “Besides those Christmas trees make such a mess with the dry needles, I have seen it in my son’s house, and no, I don’t need more cleaning …show more content…
Suddenly, I noticed German names on storefronts and shop windows dressed with fir tree branches and decorated Christmas trees with white wax candles, the kind I grew up with. We had come to Yorkville also known as “Little Germany.” It started to snow, and heavenly smells of goose and pastries tickled my nose. Oh, where to go first, so many choices - bakeries, butcher shops, Cafes and restaurants, just like on Kaiserstrasse in Karlsruhe, Germany; I could not decide. Speaking in German to my child and pointing to a store with a lit up Christmas tree and a statue of Christkindl hanging an ornament on a branch, I was eyeing the Café and restaurant “Kleine Konditorei” (little confectionary) across the street. Unbeknownst to any first time visitor, the place with the intriguing name had a little surprise waiting. It was a rather large, elegant restaurant with a delightful ambiance, delicious full course meals, and pastries out of this world. We ordered the Wurstplatter, and Schwarzwälder Kirsch Torte for dessert and every bite was a familiar delight. I had finally found the cure for my homesickness, less than two hours from New Haven, Connecticut, an oasis called Yorkville in the middle of bustling New York
As the reindeer got hooked up to the sleigh the helpful elves shook the bells on the reins, as they shook them everyone made a large uproar of joyful cheers and laughter. The main boy realizes that he is unable to hear the wonderful sounds made by the bells. As the bells are shaken more and more one particular silver bell falls from the harness and rolls right to the boy, he picks it up and shakes it and hears nothing, he repeats to himself “i believe, i believe.” he shakes it once more and finally hears it’s sweet sound. Hearing the bell and seeing Santa Claus, finally diminished his doubts about the magic of the Polar Express, Christmas, and Santa. Just before heading home the boy realizes he had lost the bell given to him by Santa. On Christmas morning his sister found one small box under the tree with the silver bell inside with a note from Santa, reassuring to the boy that his journey was real and in fact not a dream, and reminding him that seeing is believing. Even as an adult the boy could still hear the bells beautiful
In Jay Mock’s blog “Is Santa Claus a Conspiracy?” he contemplates whether Santa Claus has an evil purpose. Mock goes through what happens every year during Christmas time now and how “good feelings are directly connected to consumerism” (Mock p3), how we lie to support the conspiracy (Mock p5) and the different options a child may go through when trying to decide whether Santa Claus is real or not (Mock p7-15).
Gift-giving nowadays is no longer an act of kindness, but rather a political measure, taken to ensure one’s status with one’s acquaintances. While the general feeling of "goodwill towards men" still pervades the season, albeit filtered through television and municipal decorating projects, there is a great tension that precedes the actual Christmas holiday itself. I remember Christmases of my youth as enjoyable times, to be sure, but also as times when it was best to stay clear of my mother, who was inevitably in
“Why,” you ask, “position yourself only to be disappointed upon realizing that all you hold as true is in fact false?” I will tell you that I grew up believing in Santa Claus—the jolly, old, fat man who annually descended the chimney with his endless sack of treasures. I will tell you that I still believe that Santa Claus exists, despite being told otherwise by both parent and peer. I will tell you not only that Santa Claus exists, but that he exists in you and your family and your friends and every person who gives a little extra in any way thinkable.
I am warmed in the morning with the lingering spices from the kitchen as I begin to work up my appetite. I walk downstairs to the cornucopia baskets and thanksgiving wreaths that bring the lively autumn scene. Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday time together with my family because it is the one time out of the year in which my entire family from all over the country comes together, to giving a feeling of unity. I walk into the kitchen to a smile from my mom as she reminds me to wash my hands. It is not time to eat yet, but just as every other year, she hands me the fresh green beans to help her prepare the last dish, the green been casserole. The dish often does not hold significance to many but depicts a symbol of unity as I reflect on the times with my family. For some, a casserole can date back to mark a period of struggle in American history, but the idea of a
The Christmas tree can be seen as the first symbol in the play A Doll's House, where women have to be obedient to men and hide their true emotions. For example, at the start of Act Two, the stage directions order that “The Christmas tree is in the corner by the piano...” (Ibsen 29) This instruction represents Torvald, Nora's husband, directing Nora to do whatever pleases him even though she might disagree. She sees herself as being isolated by her husband and feels rejected as her opinion is never considered by him. In addition, the directions if Act Two continue to instruct that the Christmas tree is "…stripped of its ornaments and with burnt down candle-ends on it dishevelled branches.” (Ibsen 29) The image that is created by this order reveals that Nora also feels burned out by always having to listen to her husband. The "dishevelled branches" of the Christmas tree indicate that her life is bedraggled and she has t...
...ary children stumbled across a land where christianity has been eradicated (symbolized by the removal of Christmas, Christmas being a christian holiday and a celebration of the birth of Christ) and with the help of a thinly-veiled religious figure they once again restored it to the land.
Happy December! Who excited for the Holiday season, lots of gingerbread houses and candy canes. You can’t forget Santa and his trusty elves. Speaking of elves, did an elf appear in your classroom because we (my class) have an unexpected visitor? His name is Petey the Elf and he here to help my class stay on track for Christmas. He’s Santa helper and he reports back to Santa every time the kids go home at the end of the day. If no elf has come yet, its okay because Mr. Duguid and Mrs. Bagwell are pretty tight with Santa and I think they will report back to Santa if they need to, but I don’t think Mrs. Davies’ Class will have a problem getting on Santa’s nice list because you guys are AWSOME and do what Mrs. Davies ask you
Christmastime was always a magical time of year for me. The beautifully decorated shopping malls, with toys everywhere you looked, always fascinated me. And the houses, with the way their lights would glow upon the glistening snow at night, always seemed to calm me. But decorating the Christmas tree and falling asleep underneath the warm glow of the lights, in awe that Santa Claus would soon be there, was the best part of it all. As a child, these things enchanted me. Sure, the presents were great, but the excitement and mystery of Christmas; I loved most of all. Believing…that’s what it was all about. Believing there really was a Santa and waking up Christmas morning, realizing he’d come, as my sleepy eyes focused on all the fancily wrapped presents before me.
La Befana is the Italian version of America’s Santa Clause. In fact, the idea of Santa Clause stems from the legend of the La Befana. On the night that baby Jesus was born, the Three Wise Men stopped at her hut asking directions to Bethlehem, and invited her to go along with them but she refused. Later, a shepherd boy stopped to ask her for directions. He invited her to join him in his journey to Bethlehem, but again, she refused. Later that night she saw a large star in the sky and reconsidered going to look for the stable where baby Jesus lay. She wanted to bring him the toys of her child who had died. But she did not find the stable, and now each year she looks for baby Jesus. Since she can not find him, she leaves gifts for the good children of Italy, and coal for the bad ones.
I walked out from the door and distinctly heard the phrase,Look and to my astonishment, a red light, almost like a spotlight, was cast upon the wall at the very bottom of the stairs. The light had no other source, it was by itself, and I was transfixed by it.Being a little kid, and it only being a few days from Christmas, i knew what this light was. It was Santa How else could he get into my house to know I was being a good boy. I was so excited I began walking down the stairs to greet him, picking up my pace after the second step as it began to creep off the wall and fade into the darkness in my living room.That’s when I heard him. A very strong, masculine voice. Different from the first. Not at all like my father’s . It said,
Frosty the Snowman waves hello alongside Santa 's reindeer that are ready to take off. Candy canes line the sidewalk and the ginger bread dolls dance in a merry circle. The trees all sparkle with thousands of red, yellow, purple, blue, and orange lights. Out back, Mary and Joseph stand over baby Jesus, Choo-Choo train’s chug in spot, stars twinkle with bright yellow bulbs, and Mr. and Mrs. Santa Clause wave in the distance. Kerkhoven, MN, the location of the happiest house on the block. Every year my breath is always taken away as my eyes struggle to soak in the utter abundance of Christmas spirit. I 'm smiling and we 're not even inside yet.
Christmas to me is a celebration, which includes spending time with my family, decorating the entire house, inside and out, and shopping, for the people I love. Doing this with the people I love is what means the most to me. Spending Christmas with my family is very important to me. We usually gather and celebrate at my parent’s house, in East Tennessee. My husband, our three children, and myself travel from California. My two sisters, their husbands, and children come from a nearby town, for our celebration.