It's Not the Gift that Counts

When I was a kid we had a ritual every Christmas. Our extended family would gather at my grandmother's house. The main course for dinner was not turkey or ham. This was an Italian extended family, the main course was lasagna!

There was the 'big table' in the dining room for the adults. There was the 'small table' in the kitchen for the kids, and there was a Christmas tree in the living room.

Christmas presents were opened after dinner. With gifts for about ten kids and all their parents the Christmas tree was well protected behind a virtual fortress of wrapped boxes. One uncle always had to take movies of the kids opening their presents. He had his trusty Bell and Howell home movie camera, complete with light bar. The light bar was made up of a bar with four high-intensity eye-searing lights. Looking directly into the light bar was the equivalent to looking directly into the sun at high noon. I'm sure that there are a number of people whose last visual recollection was opening a Christmas present and then looking into their uncle's Bell and Howell home movie camera complete with light bar.
"Bobby, look up here! Show me what Santa got for you!"
"Ahhhhhhh!!" Then some colored spots before his eyes. Then blindness!

By the time we were through unwrapping all of our gifts the living room was awash in a sea of wrapping paper, packing material and tattered cardboard boxes.

After the unwrapping, the kids played with their new toys and the parents went back to the dining room to munch on snacks, chat, smoke and play Michigan Rummy.

At 11:00 the parents started dressing the kids for the trek to midnight Mass. This was in the days of snow suits and leggings. This preparation took about half an hour. At 11:30 everyone trudged several blocks through the snow to get to church. After the service we would sleep-walk back to grandma's house. When you entered her house after midnight Mass you were enveloped in a miasma of fresh-cooked Italian hot sausage! It took another half hour for our parents to get us out of our snow suits and leggings. All the while our stomachs were rumbling in anticipation of the sweet taste of that sausage!

This was the Christmas of my youth.

One year the adults decided that it would be 'really neat' to put all of the kids' small gifts into one BIG box. They must have used the packing case for a refrigerator to hold all of the kids'gifts. The big box was wrapped in silver wrapping paper, tied with enormous red ribbons and a huge bow on the top. It was an impressive sight! It seemed to dwarf the Christmas tree!

The excitement was unbearable! The kids scarfed down the lasagna as fast as they could. So what if the cheese was scalding hot! Swallow it! No one asked for seconds.

Then came the big moment. My uncle had his home movie camera going. We squinted into the light. Someone called out "Go!" and ten kids literally blindly tore away at the silver wrapping paper and the ribbons and the bow at the top of the box. The box was tilted and laid down on its side. There was a bucket brigade of kids pulling gifts out of the big box and passing them down the line. At the end of the line, my oldest cousin read off the names on the gift tags. The gifts were stacked in appropriate piles.

After the box was emptied we sat behind our individual pile of boxes, squinting into the glare of the light bar.

Once again, someone called out, "Go!" and we tore into our Christmas gifts.

It was pandemonium! Kids were shrieking with joy. Parents were laughing to the point of tears. I think one uncle wet himself laughing so hard. And above all this cacophony was my uncle with his home movie camera. "Look up here! Show me what Santa gave you!"
"Ahhhhhhh!" from the foolish child who actually looked up there!

When it was all over, the living room was once again awash in a sea of wrapping paper, packaging materials and the remains of cardboard boxes.

The kids played with their new toys and the adults retired to the dining room for snacks, smokes and Michigan Rummy.

After about half an hour the kids stopped playing with their new toys and were having a wonderful time playing with the BIG box!

One aunt had a fit. "We spent all that money on gifts! And what do they end up playing with the most - the big box!"

This was my first hint that the presents did not come from Santa, but from parents, aunts and uncles! But, I was too wrapped up in playing 'fort' in the big box to dwell on this hint at the time.

For a child, sometimes it is not the gift that counts . . . but the box!