It's not the presents, it's the presence.
It's about the people not the gifts. I know we'll have a hard time convincing the youngsters, but I am a firm believer. I know from my own experience, the best Christmas I had as a youngster was when my cousins visited. I can recall only a couple of memorable Christmas presents, but I most fondly recall the occasion when our entire family of four got together along with four to six aunts and uncles, one grandmother and five cousins, for the grand occasion.
We had a large house, but even it was challenged when everyone showed up at once.
The fact that both my parents were engaged in retail businesses that required them to be on hand right up to 8 p.m. Christmas Eve didn't seem to faze anyone, including them. We pitched in and got it done, including the Christmas morning stuffing of the turkey. I expect those of us who were pretty young at the time weren't helping but rather more or less, serving as the pylons that had to be circumvented by the adults and near adults who were doing the real work.
I remember cousin Kent making up his own Christmas carols and cousin Grant cutting cousin Kent's hair with a pair of blunt scissors, because it seemed like the thing to do at Christmas. Cousin Allan, the oldest, put in time at the store and then told tall tales and helped reconstruct the giant Lionel model train setup we had laid down throughout the entire second floor of the house. The tracks ran in and out of all four bedrooms and down the hallway, powered by three transformers that kept three locomotives and cars running all at once. There were a few crashes.
The train set had been accumulated piece-by-piece by my father over several years, beginning in his youth. It was impressive, and it was always packed away in about six big boxes in the basement. But on this one occasion, this one Christmas, the whole dang shooting match was brought out and assembled. With a little tweaking, everything ran perfectly. We kids absolutely loved it. One engine emitted smoke, we had dump cars, side tracks, a couple of stations and as noted, a few crashes when one train made better speed in the master bedroom while Train B in the spare bedroom was slowing down to allow Chinkamarker, our pet cat to cross safely. Because we couldn't see all the tracks, all the time, since it wound around under beds and through closets and all four bedrooms, there were plenty of mishaps. Nothing got trashed beyond repair. Of course Peppy, our cocker spaniel would make an occasional dive at one of the passing freight cars and cause a derailment. It might have been because we had dog biscuits in the freight car. That's just a guess though.
The train set kept us amused for two full days and yes, we had fun opening gifts, but most of all, I recall the universal laughter, the practical joke we played on Granny, the confusion, the snow, the tall Yule tree and waking up on Christmas morning, dining on Mandarin oranges for breakfast and admiring the cooking and baking skills of my mother and sister and older cousins. Everyone played on Boxing Day. Nobody headed out to any store to go shopping. The stores weren't open and nobody cared. We had what we needed. We had people.
There were other memorable Christmases, including the one I spent in a Montreal airport and train station with my mom, and another in an Ontario restaurant sharing a pizza with a bored waitress and another one on a warm, sandy Caribbean beach. But those are just flashpoints. The one I remember vividly is the one spent with those crazy cousins when we were just stupid kids, doing what kids do at Christmas.
