CARLTON FLETCHER: Christmas traditions are products of magic

It’s the laughter we will remember whenever we remember the way we were.

— Barbra Streisand

I was riding out Philema the other day, lost in all the thoughts that tend to swirl around in my little brain, when I came upon a sight that made me smile.

There’s a family out in the county that decorates its yards elaborately for Christmas, and they had everything all lit up. What I like so much about this particular showcase is that there is no apparent rhyme or reason to it. That’s not to belittle the efforts of the people who took the time and expense to put up this display. I’m sure everything is mapped out ahead of time … the snowman here, the reindeer there, Santa over yonder. But this display is more about touching all the Christmas bases and plugging in lights, lights and more lights than it is adhering to some preconceived theme.

Or at least it seems that way to me, which is part of the charm.

The family didn’t put up their display last year, and while it made me sad at the time, I didn’t realize how much things like this mean to me until I saw the display back up. It’s like running into a friend or family member you haven’t seen in a while and realizing just how much you miss them.

As I thought about that Christmas display, I couldn’t help but think about my old buddy Walter Flint, and how much his holiday decorations always added to the season. Walter was a one-of-a-kind type of guy whose presence loomed large, especially during Christmas time.

I also found myself, while looking at this dazzling light show, thinking back to a long ago when my family used to go on trips during the holiday season. It might be a trip to visit a relative or just a run to the grocery store, but my brother, Donny, and sister, Cathy, and I would “count Christmas trees” during the ride. We’d cruise along in the back seat of whatever family sedan we had at the time — I remember one in particular that inspired us to sing, “We all ride in a yellow Belvadere” to the tune, of course, of the Beatles’ “Yellow Submarine” — and we’d count the number of Christmas decorations we saw along the way.

It was difficult, as you might guess, to snatch sight of a tree glistening in someone’s window that everyone else didn’t see, but I remember the feeling of triumph when we’d roll past a place and, safely out of sight, one of us would shout, “I saw a tree back there in that back window!” and the others would grudgingly concede a point, not wanting to anger the Christmas gods by arguing.

It was things like our Christmas tree counting and sleeping together in the same room on pallets Christmas Eve night so that we could get up together somewhere around 4 a.m. and see what Santa had brought us — our family traditions — that helped make Christmas a special time for us. And it was having parents who, even though financial struggles were always in the rearview mirror, made sure we had presents under the tree that dad had gone into the woods and cut down that introduced us to the concept of Christmas magic.

Those of us past the age of 40 now criticize today’s kids for allowing their lives to be taken over by cellphones. And it’s sadly true that a lot of “family time” now — including, amazingly, holiday dinners — is spent with everyone sitting around staring at their own little 2-inch by 3-inch screens, thumbs racing across the miniature keyboards to share the mundane minutiae of their lives. But maybe we’re at fault for not giving them the kind of traditions — the kind of magic — that our parents and grandparents gave us.

It would be easy enough for us all to make hollow promises about creating “new traditions” that will unite our family in seasons to come. But traditions are not something you can force on others. They come about organically, grow out of shared enjoyment and even a sense of whimsy, of doing something maybe a little out of the ordinary that turns out to bring joy.

Sometimes I guess the best you can hope for though is that your offspring are at least instagramming photos of Christmas decorations … perhaps like the display out Philema. You take your magic where you can find it.

Email Carlton Fletcher at [email protected]. Follow @ABH_Fletcher on Twitter.

Staff Photo