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My Christmas was a mixed bag for a long time. Mother was all in on the spirit of the season. My father not so much. The push-pull seemed destined to come to a head on the blessed day. I loved my parents. They taught me that Santa delivered the goodies, but Jesus was the benefactor. While the mood felt combustible, tempers, thank goodness, never detonated on the Holy Day. There was an edgy, unspoken detente. Mom had presents wrapped by Labor Day and had the best Christmas ornaments in town, many of them handmade. She always cooked a delicious rib-eye roast for Christmas dinner. Dad tried to stay out of the way but always frantically threw wrapping paper into the fireplace before it hit the floor, unable to disguise his disgust with the tradition until…

Grandparents arrived and adult spirits were served. The pump was primed. Merriment filled our home.

My family are storytellers, but the topsy turvy annual ritual was never completely defused until the Christmas tree came down before the New Year.

The first calm hint of holiday cheer did not arrive until 2018. I bought a Santa suit at the urging of my friend Mac Reid. He offered me my first gig for his grandson Cassius’s 4^th birthday in early December. I took my job as Jolly Old St. Nick seriously. “Have you been a good little boy this year?” I asked. Cassius looked up, and without question, told me that he had been a good boy. He then turned around to the partygoers and nearly outed me. “Santa sounds like Allen!” The grownups assured the children that I was credentialed.

Peace on earth

Mac and Tay brought the boy to the Bondville Road Christmas light show the next few years. I would be standing on the corner, on cue, when they drove up while Bing Crosby sang White Christmas over the carnival speakers.

“Ho, Ho, Ho young man. Merry Christmas!”

Cassius was a believer even when Santa FaceTimed during the pandemic. But the next year, back on Bondville Road, he started to ask more questions. “Where are the reindeer?” I stammered. “I parked Rudolph and his team behind the Salvisa Dollar Store.” Cassius got itchy and demanded to be taken to the store. He looked around behind the store, sized up the situation, and observed defiantly that there were no reindeer. It was pitch black. Pawpaw (Mac) said he could see them far in the distance. Cassius seemed doubtful.

A career in theater was in jeopardy.

It wasn’t long before Santa, the reindeer, elves, and the workshop were exposed as myth.

Cassius turned 10 a few weeks ago

A week ago I drove Tay and Cassius to the Bondville Christmas light show. No Santa suit. The annual spectacle was bigger and better than ever.

I love a Fraser fir, strung with colorful lights, decorated with shiny ornaments.  And Jamie Dockery’s centerpieces and wreaths are unparalleled. Toss in a bundle of bright Galax leaves from the Appalachians. They remind me of my mother whose family came from the North Carolina mountains.

Best and happiest of all, the Time before him was his own, to make amends in! “I will live in the Past, the Present and the future!” Scrooge repeated, as he scrambled out of bed. “The Spirits of all Three shall strive within me. Oh Jacob Marley, Heaven, and the Christmas Time be praised for this!”

Though my work was limited, I reigned for five years in a red suit. But I never had long lines of youngsters waiting to sit in my lap compared to the big league Santas with department store gigs.

My brain’s neuroplasticity, thanks to Santa Claus, was readjusted. I am full of Christmas cheer now.  I love my family, friends, decorations, the greenery, the dazzling light displays, the air-inflated Santas, reindeer, and even the candy canes.

I am grateful, at year’s end, for all our Garden Rant readers, too.

But Frosty the Snowman is overplayed.

Christmas Cheer with Cassius originally appeared on GardenRant on December 21, 2024.

The post Christmas Cheer with Cassius appeared first on GardenRant.

* This article was originally published here

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