COLUMN: Childhood memories restore Christmas cheer

I looked down at my phone today and couldn’t believe it was Dec. 20.

There’s no escaping it. Christmas is really five days away.

I can’t say I’m that excited about it. For some reason, I’ve had a really hard time getting in the Christmas spirit this year.

I’ve attended some great parties (Thanks, Shane Brannon and Apple Annie’s for one of the best on Sunday), but I just can’t seem to find that Christmas cheer.

I’ve purchased only a few gifts, and even those few minutes of shopping managed to irritate me. I didn’t send out Christmas cards (so those of you who were wondering why you got deleted from my list can rest easy now). No Christmas music. No Christmas cookies. No holiday movie classics. Nothing. Zilch. Nada.

I have indeed been a first-class Scrooge to the nth “Bah humbug.”

But the good news is I realize I have a problem. I’m facing it, and with just a few days left, I’m giving myself a Christmas intervention.

I figured the best way to kick the transformation into full gear was to look to Christmases past.

For starters, I started to think about the things that have made Christmas so cheery in the past.

When I was young, there was the magic of Santa Claus and of course, the mountain of new toys to look forward to.

But there were also school parties and church programs. For those of you who didn’t know, I gave a truly Oscar-worthy performance as an angel in the church Christmas pageant at age 8 or 9. It’s just too bad there was no YouTube around at that time to document it.

As I began reminiscing, the Christmas pageant was just one of many fond memories that came to mind.

My younger brother and I used to be terrible about trying to guess what every gift under the tree was. If a present had our names on it, we were shaking it, peeling back paper, sizing it. We were like the Holmes and Watson of Christmas investigations. By the time the 25th arrived, we could itemize every box under the tree.

It drove my mother absolutely insane. She wanted everything to be a surprise. She tried numerous tactics to throw us off. One year, for instance, she put bells inside the boxes so everything sounded the same when you shook it. Amateur move. Within a day, we’d still figured everything out, down to my duck shoes and Billy Idol “Rebel Yell” cassette. Within two days, we’d informed my dad of everything he was getting, too.

Still, my mom would not be thwarted. I don’t remember if it was the year after the bells or a few years later, but eventually, she got us. She developed a foolproof system. Not a single gift under the tree had a gift tag on it. Instead, every gift was marked with a random number. And when I say random, I mean numbers like 2,314 or 906. Chris and I tried everything to crack the code, but to no avail.

Suddenly shaking presents didn’t work, because you had no idea whose gifts you were shaking. And mom wasn’t giving away a single clue. We asked and asked, but her only reply was a smirk and gleaming look of satisfaction. Finally she’d won. We got our assigned numbers on Christmas morning, and Mom got the joy of surprising us. To this day, we still laugh about Mom’s “Christmas by Numbers.”

Every family has those stories and special memories. We were talking Christmas in the newsroom, and content manager Kim Ginfrida quickly recalled a year where Santa had to visit her house twice. Her younger brother was born on Christmas Eve, so things were a bit hectic for her family that Christmas. There was a bit of miscommunication between Santa’s helpers and not all the gifts got delivered on Christmas morning. Well, at least not for 5-year-old Kim. Her older brother got all of his Christmas gifts, but there were only two presents under the tree for Kim. Turns out Santa had a second stash that the elves forgot to pack, so Santa stopped by again later that afternoon.

Turns out multimedia journalist John D. Russell launched his investigative reporting career at a very young age. By age 9 or 10, John said he was growing a bit skeptical about the whole Santa thing so he decided to get to the bottom of it once and for all. He did the only rational thing he could think of. He left Santa a note with his cookies. Like most journalists, John didn’t dance around the issue. He was quick and to the point in his note: “Santa, if you are real, sign this.”

I’m happy to report Santa signed and another Christmas went off without a hitch.

It’s these moments that make Christmas, not the shopping and crowds.

This year, it just took me a little longer to remember that.

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to you and yours! And here’s hoping for a wonderful 2012!

Morning News Digital Journalist Traci Bridges is on the town and in Currents every Thursday. Contact her at (843) 317-7325 or tbridges@florencenews.com. Or find her Christmas morning, enjoying her mother’s famous breakfast casserole and watching “A Christmas Story” over and over.