Posted on December 25, 2014
You probably think many years have to pass before a person begins looking back on Christmas Eve, searching for the feelings of the past — feelings connected to better times, to people who are no longer close to us, and to memories that once shaped our lives.
Memories.
On ordinary days, we do not always have the energy to remember.
Sometimes there is simply not enough time.
And sometimes a memory hurts so much that we prefer not to force the past back into the present.
Then Christmas arrives.
Old films return to our favourite television channels.
And if they do not, we choose them ourselves.
Christmas Eve
For us, December 24 begins early in the morning.
We bring the Christmas tree into the room and place it in its usual spot.
Then, with the kind of excitement that has become part of our tradition, we head to the multiplex and try to watch one current film after another.
Sometimes it is only us.
At other times, a few similarly minded people join us.
This year, there were far more people than usual.
Apparently, the world is changing.
Of course it is.
At 3:45 p.m., after the final film, we left the cinema and headed home.
Two years earlier, snow had covered the world outside the Plaza windows.
This time, bright sunshine accompanied us on the short journey home.
A Journey Through Music
On one of the evenings of Christmas, I like to use one of the wonders of the modern age to bring back feelings that remind me why I am who I am.
My iPhone is always close at hand for this purpose.
I typed in the names of one or two songs after hearing Steve Tyrell’s On the Sunny Side of the Street during Father of the Bride.
And suddenly the unstoppable journey through time began.
It was exactly what my soul needed.
Tyrell’s music led the way.
Soon I found myself watching a short Paul Newman tribute set to Raindrops Keep Fallin’ on My Head.
Scenes appeared from films that even my grandparents had watched.
Some of them we had watched together.
We had allowed those films to carry us away and become part of our memories forever.
And what music.
One Song Leads to Another
With one click, I was listening to Dean Martin.
There is something in the way he performs that makes you feel he knows something you do not want to miss.
As if you have already lived the same moments.
And while listening, images begin to return.
Moments.
Places.
People.
You do not want the music to stop.
It is magical.
From there, it was only a short step to Perry Como and Magic Moments.
And while watching, long-forgotten films began appearing again in my mind.
One of my favourite scenes returned too:
Audrey Hepburn singing Moon River.
For me.
At least that is how it always felt.
If Only We Had More Time
I suddenly thought how wonderful it would be if we had more time for things like this.
And then, from somewhere in the past, Gene Kelly appeared.
Singin’ in the Rain.
I remember when I could still feel that completely, carelessly happy.
Watching the scene brought me back there almost immediately.
And to see how timeless it still was, I watched another interpretation associated with Robin Williams.
Then, as if I still needed proof of how beautiful the music was, I found a performance by the Three Tenors.
There was something endlessly unrepeatable about the moment at the end when the older Gene Kelly and the tenors applauded one another.
Christmas and Basketball
I will not continue listing songs and films.
I could never reproduce my Christmas mood as well as they did.
Or, in a completely different but somehow equally fitting way, as the NBA does in its Christmas game broadcasts.
The league has become remarkably good at weaving timeless melodies, familiar humour and festive imagery into basketball culture.
Sometimes all it takes is a popular actor introducing the broadcast with a joke and suddenly the fantasy gives way to reality.
The opponents may tease one another.
The competition is still serious.
There will still be hard contact.
Someone will still lose.
But the broadcasts somehow remain unmistakably festive.
The colours.
The music.
The humour.
The atmosphere.
The beauty of Christmas surrounds the game.
Back to the Court
There were not many of us, but I still received my end-of-year gift.
After spending time wandering through old memories, I was brought quickly back into the present when I stepped onto the court to play in the Christmas evening game with some of DEAC’s finest players.
It felt wonderful.
And I was grateful that, even if only for a few moments, I had been able to relive memories that had once meant so much to me.
The films.
The songs.
The actors.
They felt so familiar and so powerful that it was almost as if the people who are no longer here were somehow present with us again.
For a little while.
On a silent Christmas night.
I recommend it to everyone.