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THE HOLIDAYS ARE HERE. For me, the Christmas season brings back memories—along with anxiety and stress.
Let’s review the stress first. Where are we going to have Christmas dinner and who will come? Getting everyone together is virtually impossible.
Next come the decorations. It wouldn’t be so bad if they weren’t stacked this way and that in a storage locker. When we moved to a condo, we converted to an artificial tree. It looks real from two feet away, but it’s stored in four pieces and weighs a ton. Wouldn’t you know it? It’s at the back of the storage locker located in our building’s garage.
We have enough decorations collected from our travels to trim five trees and two houses, and yet something new pops up each year. Isn’t that so cute? I see a black lab ornament in our future this year to celebrate our daughter’s new puppy. Our collection of Cape Cod ornaments alone fills a large box.
I’m faced with major decisions. Do I set up the Christmas villages and my electric trains? Darn heavy stuff and not many people see them. Alas, tradition prevails. Those trains were my father’s, from 1920.
My wife decorates every room in the house, plus our balcony. Where did I put all those extension cords, timers and spare bulbs? Are we having fun yet?
I like Christmas, I really do, but as a kid, I don’t remember all the stress, aggravation and work involved. Could it be my parents and grandparents did it all?
Gifts are also a source of stress. At least my wife and I stopped giving presents to each other several years ago. Instead, we each fill the other’s stocking with a few trinkets and lottery tickets. But that’s not true for our four children, their spouses and the 13 grandchildren. What will I get everyone?
I recall presents that were real doozies. One year, I splurged and gave my wife a giant microwave that was nearly impossible to lift. The fact that our marriage survived past Christmas morning was that year’s miracle. Every Christmas, my adult children remind me about that gift.
Many years ago, I was feeling successful and dipped into savings to buy my wife a red fox fur jacket. It cost $1,500, which back then was a hefty sum. Connie was pleased and she wore it, but it seemed more and more I had to suggest she put it on when we were going out. Turns out she felt it made her look like a teddy bear. Old Foxy still hangs in the back of her closet, not having seen the light of day in decades.
Memories from my childhood are still fresh. I grew up in a small city in North Jersey, a few miles from Newark and about a 30-minute drive from New York City. We had several department stores in town—malls didn’t exist. One mall was subsequently built on land that had been a dairy farm, with horse stables and a black Angus cattle ranch. Yup, in North Jersey.
Christmas was a big deal. Every department store had a Santa or Santa’s helper, many times in the store window with Mrs. Claus. One store, Kresge’s in Newark, had a monorail running beneath the ceiling of the toy floor. You could have lunch with Santa for a small fee—at least, I think it was small.
At another store, Santa gave me a wrapped present each year. I always seemed to get Tiddledy Winks. I suspect it was because my mother always chose the 25-cent gift instead of the 50-cent, 75-cent or $1 presents.
My all-time favorite Christmas shopping occurred in my young married days. What to buy, what size, what color? There was a small department store nearby called J.M. Towne—now long gone—that on a certain night each week around Christmas held a men’s night. You sat in a nice chair, sipped cocoa and ate cookies, while the sales ladies shopped based on your general criteria and then wrapped your choices.
The result wasn’t any better than my own unassisted effort, with many of the gifts quickly returned. It was fun, however. Eventually, I resolved to stay with jewelry. Baubles seem to keep well.
My favorite time is Christmas night. It’s all done, over, quiet, and I sit in my chair by the glowing fireplace sipping eggnog, listening to carols and staring at the tree. Oh, forget that. Because we’ve moved, the tree is now in another room.
As we get closer to the big day, I’m trying to get into the mood. Facing that storage locker takes fortitude. I get the same stressed feeling opening that door as I do entering a Home Depot. What am I doing here?
Richard Quinn blogs at QuinnsCommentary.net. Before retiring in 2010, Dick was a compensation and benefits executive. Follow him on X (Twitter) @QuinnsComments and check out his earlier articles.
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I used to enjoy visiting the Woodfield mall years ago while in the Newark area on business. In fact downtown Newark was inviting as well because of all the little neighborhood family restaurants surrounding it…but not anymore I’m afraid.
Dick, Back in the 80’s, I served a congregation in Lincoln Park, a bit west of Patterson. It was a little town time forgot, with a sign on an old stone building next door to me that read, “George Washington slept here”. It had a single traffic light and a lone flashing light. One parishioner could ride her beautiful blue-eyed roan mare to church now and then. I remember J.M. Towne, too.
I know Lincoln Park well. It still floods now and then. George actually slept in several places in NJ the crossroads of the revolution as they say.
“Of Christmases long, long ago.”
We had a long engagement (4 years) due to me desiring to complete college before getting married. My wife had a full time job while finishing her degree and I had the benefit of a college co-op program that covered tuition and boarding during the year. I worked any other opportunity I could find to add to our mutual nest egg. We tried to save as much as possible and started building up our supply of essential household items for our life together. Over the years, we were basically ready to stock our first apartment.
In addition to farm auctions, rummage sales and the like to shop at, I worked near a Sears outlet store where you could buy many new, basic household items for a few dimes on the dollar. One of my, “great finds”, at Sears was an item that, theoretically, was an essential and helpful item that i was able to purchase for a couple bucks. I ended up including it in her Christmas bonanza of gifts the year before we were to marry, which at the time, seemed to be a nice idea.
That bonanza included a new set of tires for her car. “A very essential and caring gift”, I thought. She lived out in the country and had a fair amount of daily driving in her very-used Dodge Omni with well worn tires. I even got the nod of approval from my future in-laws at Christmas. To this day, I don’t understand why the Sears bathroom scale didn’t go over as well………
Anyway, for some reason, she didn’t abandon all hope and we’ve been married for 42 years. In the early weeks of marriage, I vividly recall searching through the couch cushions for loose change in hopes of being able to buy a quart of milk. Those were the days.
Comfort and Joy to all.
I really understand. We tried, right? By the way, today is our 55th wedding anniversary. I got her a nice bouquet of flowers, but it was too big- go figure. I had plans to go out to dinner at a nice restaurant, but we are off shortly to a six grade grandsons Christmas concert 50 miles away. 🙂
Enjoyed the article very much. I think a little “Bah humbug” goes a long way.
Memories! I have one of a Kerby vac with ALL the attachments! I was so proud, ”
Isn’t it wonderful honey?? . . . . Honey??”
It just have been the attachments that did you in.
Lottery tickets? Wow, seems out of character…
Why is that, because I claim to be frugal – in my own way? Hey, they are only a buck. My daughter gave me 80 tickets for my 80th birthday. My profit was $67, hers not so much.
I’m just teasing, really. It’s quite obvious that in your case lottery tickets are not the foundation for a secure life in retirement.
But the subject of government-sponsored lotteries strikes a nerve with me. My observation is that in many cases those least able to afford the tickets are the ones buying in earnest. And they’re buying in significant amounts.
I take issue with the breathless TV news stories about the latest lottery jackpot amounts, and interviews with people about what they will do with $50 million or $100 million when they win. The on-site reporter’s story is always followed by the anchors bantering about buying their own tickets before the deadline.
I’ve written letters to the stations protesting all this – it’s not news, it’s advertising.
You are right, it’s just a stealth tax. Studies shoe that lower income people spend a greater percentage of their income on taxes than higher income.
Lotteries are a tax on people who are bad at Math.
Shoe? Is that a tribute to Ed Sullivan?😂
I agree. But I’d add one point: The popularity of lottery tickets, and the belief that this might be the best available route to financial security, says something about our failure as a society to offer a retirement-savings system that’s understandable and seems achievable to everyday Americans.
I second that, just like health care too many options and tax issues, too confusing for the great majority of Americans who don’t want to spend the time learning about it all.
I am at the moment thinking of a future meeting with a friend to talk about finances. Retirement planning and health insurance will be two main topics of the conversation. Right now, he’s thinking that neither one is “understandable and achievable,” as Jonathan says.
I thought you decluttered before moving to the condo. After reading this, I’m feeling a lot better about the decorations that were in my basement. And I got a 5ft Frazier Fir from Home Depot for $60!
I thought so too. There are still some boxes of photos in our extra bedroom too.
As we were driving around to do our Christmas shopping, the spousal unit mentioned how this season seems to really depress a lot of people.
I wonder if it the lack of sunlight in our area?
Sunny days do seem more pleasant.
I’m pretty sure that’s a scientific thing.
Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD). I think in the olden days they called it Cabin Fever
Speaking of Cabin Fever, the is a book by that name written about our disasterous COVID cruise in 2020.
Wow! Three articles in one week from Mr. Quinn! At this rate, I’m starting to think you’ve got a team of Santa’s elves hidden away helping you type. Keep up the fantastic work.
It’s what keeps me sane – sort of. Jonathan saved my retirement. Before retirement I spent many hours a week preparing employee communications about understanding and using their benefits. I enjoy it.
We and the contents of our former 2200 sq.ft.condo are living in a 1000sq.ft. apartment while we wait for our retirement home to be built. Talk about 10 pounds of s–t in a 5 pound bag! I managed to find a string of lights that Chris wrapped around a pole lamp; that’s this years Christmas Tree.
Over the river and through the woods, to the Christmas tree farm we go! Our family chopped (well actually sawed) down a nine-foot tall Christmas tree this Saturday at a 1787 farm ten minutes from our house. The nicest octogenarian farmer asked tentatively if we might pay $50 and waited for our counter offer. We just handed him $60. The tree came with huge and yummy sugar cookies for each of the four of us baked that morning by his wife. Christmas time can sometimes be magical.
Several years ago we instituted my long stated policy of going artificial right after the Christmas we spent $50 cutting our own tree. It also helped that that year our tree stand leaked right after we finished decorating it. Luckily we always placed a round vinyl tablecloth under it to protect the hardwood floor. Let the stand drain and took the tree down after two weeks. Bought a $400 tree 50% off after Christmas that looks unbelievably real with pre-strung lights. Only two more years and we will realize our RTI. And yes Dick it is heavy carrying the lower sections up from the basement!
🎄
+1. Wow. A good price and a priceless experience.
Christmas tree prices and hassles led us to a Balsam Hill tree purchase a few years ago.
Indeed our best-ever tree shopping experience. We spent as long chatting with the farmer as in searching the acres for our tree.
The quite-fit, mid-80’s farmer lamented that this summer he was only physically able to replant 400 new trees – just like HD readers he is investing for the long term plus building in sustainability. Since trees take 8-10 years to grow to harvestable height, he is all set with an annuity stream well into his mid 90’s. He also smiled about his huge tax benefit as the property taxes for the farmland is just $25/year.
That’s is quite a bargain. My daughter bought an 8 foot tree and it cost $158. A friend paid $100 for a 5 foot tree. They were told the forest fires wiped out some farms.
Merry Christmas Dick! When we moved to the beach we made hard choices and downsized dramatically. We are down to 3 bins of Xmas decorations. We moved those to the new house in Monmouth and they fit well. We bought an artificial tree a few years ago for the beach house, but we always had fresh trees in PA, and often cut it down at local farms.
Years ago we dramatically reduced gift giving amongst the family – it just got too big. We try to give experiences – a few years back we took our kids and their wives to a Broadway show.
Grandkids are a different story. They still get the full Christmas treatment.
UPDATE We tackled the storage locker this past weekend. Our living room is filled with boxes, my back is sore and Connie and I had a few discussions, but we are getting there. I have half the tree up and her collection of ceramic Santa’s are about.
Last week on Cape Cod we bought the new puppy’s ornament.
Last year we bought new candles for the windows, timers, remote settings and all. We packed them so they would be safe for this year. Apparently we did a good job because we can’t find them. Amazon is delivering a new set today.
Part of our Christmas tradition is a family trip to the tree farm—until this year. A hectic schedule sent my wife there by herself. John had closed his farm down, but his son opened a new farm just up the road. The son had neatly trimmed all of his trees and had none of the slightly shaggy trees my wife prefers. John loaded my wife into his ATV golf cart for a bumpy ride over the dam and through the woods to find a tree at the old farm. She was able to salvage some of the tradition—spending time with John, a talkative lover of the Christmas season.
We tried that a few times. We were inspired by a Hallmark Christmas movie. It didn’t go as expected. Long trek in a muddy field to find the right tree covered in snow which turned out not to be the right tree.