Not So Merry

By Joan Mahon, Villas.
Christmas has always made me feel sad. As a child growing up in Brooklyn, I could never understand my dad’s reasoning when it came to some of the fun things to do during the holidays. We had a family tradition of driving around the neighborhood one night to enjoy the lights and decorations on others’ homes. Yet, we never put up any of our own outdoor decorations. Our tree was always warm and pleasant to look at in our living room, but I wanted our house to stand out because it was Christmas and a special time.
Dad grew up during the Great Depression and was very particular about how and when he spent his money. Of course a nine-year-old does not understand that the electric bill was the issue when it came to holiday lights. He was a man filled with fears.
Suppose we had a fire? What if we were out of the house and the lights were not on and someone robbed us? Dad fought in horrific battles during World War II and his life was not an easy one. He spent 15 months in bed after he was discharged from the Army suffering from tuberculosis. I ask “Why Not” when he battled severe depression. Moments of joy did not come easily to him.
A few days prior to Christmas in 1963, Dad let me do something I will never forget. I placed a round wooden table in front of the middle window facing the street and set up the Nativity Scene. I plugged in a gooseneck desk lamp to shine on the miniature version of the stable in Bethlehem and rolled up the blinds so passersby could see the beautiful, lighted display in our house. We had the best Christmas lights, ever!