Dr. Carolyn Lee reflects on a different cliché each week. Recently, in her blog “Easier Said Than Done,” she considers the challenge of actually doing what we talk about. This week Carolyn explores the cliché, how times have changed.
Learn more about Dr. Carolyn Lee on her biography page or investigate 29 more clichés in her latest book, Keep Your Eye on the Ball And Other Clichès to Live By.
How Times Have Changed
When I was a child, it was at about this time of year that my father would take us to a local Christmas tree lot to pick out the tree that would dominate our living room for the next month. The weather was always wintry, the air filled with the smell of pine and spruce. The trees were often covered with snow. Dad would select a tree for our perusal, shaking off the snow, slowly turning the tree so we could see it from every angle. No, that one wouldn’t do: it had a big bare spot. Maybe that one—although the branches weren’t as full as we would like. No, that one wasn’t quite the right shape. Ah, now that one had possibilities—nice and full, right shape, right height. Yes, let’s go with that one.
There was then the necessity of getting it in or on the car for the trip home. Dad came prepared with elastic straps and belts, an old bed sheet. Without too much trouble, we made it home and into the living room where a homemade stand was waiting and ready. Dad was in charge of the next step, that is stringing the tree with lights. The lights were actually bulbs in those days, about as big as your thumb, all different colors. To make the most of the light and the color, there were little foil shields that served as a background for each bulb and had to be attached separately. A certain percentage of the bulbs had somehow died since their previous usage, and, if one bulb went out, the whole string of bulbs of which it was a part went out with it. This made getting the whole tree completely lit a labor-intensive endeavor, which, as I recall, required a determined effort to operate in the true spirit of Christmas.
The hanging of ornaments was something in which all of us could participate. Ornaments included everything from red globes bought at the dime store to homemade varieties made out of construction paper, aluminum foil, yarn and wooden clothes pins. Once they were in place, we were ready for the final step: the application of tinsel. At the home of some of my friends, tinsel application was a pretty sloppy affair that involved standing several feet away from the tree and throwing gobs of the foil strips in the general direction of the target. That wasn’t the way it worked at our house. Tinsel was placed, one tiny strip at a time, at precisely the place where it would be most effective and attractive. This took approximately forever.
On the night of Christmas Eve, my sister and I were sent to bed early so my parents would have time to wrap or build or display our gifts properly. We slept in the same room on that night, our beds pushed close together, so we could, perhaps, hold hands and do a certain amount of squealing before finally giving up and falling into fitful sleep. We didn’t have a fireplace in our home, no mantel from which to hang Christmas stockings, so our stockings were thumb-tacked to our bedposts. These stockings were not handmade felt creations with our names emblazoned across the top. No, they were an old pair of our father’s socks which our parents somehow filled with goodies while we slept. I say, “goodies.” Actually, as I recall, there was usually an orange in the toe and certainly some “sweets” and a candy cane. In addition, we usually found maybe fingernail clippers or little bottles of shampoo and various “toiletries.” Waking up at 3:00 in the morning and discovering that our stockings had been filled was always a very big deal, after which it was difficult to get back to sleep and stay in bed until the agreed upon get-up time.
Both the giving and receiving of gifts on Christmas morning was always terribly exciting. I don’t recall many of the specific presents I found under the tree, but I do remember that I was never disappointed, and I always seemed to get exactly what I hoped for.
Fast-forward twenty years. Now we were the adults, and my sister’s children were the ones who were helping their dad select a tree. The stringing of lights was not quite so laborious, somehow. The little twinkling bulbs were pretty reliable, and they did not require reflective shields. Ornaments had been acquired over the years, many of them made by the children, some picked up on travels here and there. No tinsel. Under the tree were stacks of wrapped gifts, labeled and tied with bows. We adults wrapped and built and displayed gifts, and our kids were the ones giggling in their beds, unable to sleep. Excitement ran high on Christmas morning as the children quite literally tore into their presents, leaving behind mounds of wrinkled wrapping paper, empty boxes, and “instructions for use” pamphlets.
Fast-forward twenty years. The torch has definitely been passed. Times have changed. It is the children of my sister’s children who are now at the center of the Christmas festivities. They had nothing to do with the selection of the tree. It was bought in the Holiday Decorations Department at Home Depot and came in three sections, all perfectly shaped and pre-strung with lights. There are no presents under the tree this year. The children are beyond games, and none of us adults is brave enough to choose apparel or music or books for them. No, Amazon gift cards will be the way to go this year. That’ll be a lot easier for us, and the children will be grateful and appreciative.
But here’s the point I want to make. Yes, of course, Christmas is very different from what it was when I was a child. I’m so glad I’m old enough to have experienced Christmas in the 40s and 50s. It was a sweet and simple time, full of that old-world charm, Bing Crosby singing “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” in the background. Christmas in the 70s and 80s was good, too—those frantic Christmas mornings with wrapping paper flying in all directions and children shrieking with delight as they received wooden puzzles and doll houses and garbage trucks.
And what about Christmas, 2023? I don’t mind a quiet Christmas morning one bit. My pre-lit tree is already up. I decorated it myself, and I’m loving having that bright spot in my living room. On Christmas afternoon, we’ll have adult children sitting around the dinner table, and they will express their love and their thanks. They’ll recall Christmases past and remind us of good times and treasured memories. I won’t spend one minute longing for the Old Days; I’ll just be grateful for all the phases and eras we’ve lived through and take particular pleasure in the one we’re experiencing right now.
Want to Read More?
Check out Dr. Carolyn Lee’s blogs on her website, she features a new cliché each week or you can order her new book, Keep Your Eye on the Ball And Other Clichès to Live By. Want to know more about the woman behind the words? Read more about Carolyn here. We hope you enjoyed this article learning more about the cliché, how times have changed.
