Keeping Christmas

A few years back, there was a silly move to eliminate the word Christmas from the season. Why I am not sure but someone got the silly idea that it was offensive. Everyone, no matter what their background recognized it, as a time of happy greetings and gift giving, family celebrations and for many, a spiritual experience. I couldn't see how my personal time was anyone else's business to meddle with. I felt that, and still do, every people should gladly celebrate their traditions because it is important to one's culture, for the progeny to understand their pasts so that they can find their place in the present. It's not an offense for anyone to celebrate who and what they are according to law in this fine country. Christmas is part of my culture and tradition and it is just as important to me that it be called its traditional name as for any other people to have their celebrations. It is called Christmas. I am not making excuses for what I am or apologising to anyone for my beliefs.  Just as everyone else, it's only me a human being living on this lovely planet and trying to do what I can to enjoy life in my way. I respect other Canadians and their beliefs as well. Christmas in my life was the one time when the whole family got together even if they lived far away. I can almost smell Christmas with its piney, mincemeat aromas, the roasting turkey, the candles, the waft of fresh snow scent when the door opened and in came the hugs and cheery greetings, the sounds of carols and  the paper crackles of gifts being unwrapped. As a child, the magic of Santa Claus and the telling of Dickens, Disney tales and the after dinner surroundings in the living room of the warmth of relatives who made you feel the love of being part of a family was Christmas. There was also spiritual wonderment in the songs sung around the creche: Silent Night, Oh Holy Night, O Little Town of Bethlehem. The jolly ring of Jingle Bells, Rudolph and Frosty lent a spirit of joy, too, as the little ones played with their new toys. Boxing Day was spent mostly at home and visitors in the neighbourhood came over and partook of the left over turkey, pies and the ever present and greatly feared, Christmas Cake. The fruit cake was either adored or hated but everyone had a piece because each piece meant a lucky month in the year ahead. In our family, there were no strict traditions. It was simply a time for family, all of the family. We visited as many of the aunts and uncles as we could squeeze in but at the top of the lists were the eldest members: the grand and great grandparents. They were revered and while often made jokes of in the nicest way, were dearly beloved because we knew their time with us was limited. It was a time of memories as we sat in the living rooms of our relatives and recalled other happy past times and recollections of Christmases past.