Christmas morning has always been a joyous and jolly occasion for as long as I can remember.
As a youngster, my parents always found a way to keep my older brother and I busy on Christmas morning, whether that was some fancy new G.I. Joe vehicle and some guys for me, or the latest Star Wars stuff for him.
We'd always get up relatively early, but I don't recall it being crazy dark out still like my own kids are these days. That was fine, though, because my dad was a morning guy anyway — still is — and was already prepping the day's impending turkey feast.
My mom is more like me, though, and needs a little more prodding to get going in the wee hours.
First things first, it was time to tear into the stockings. As the youngest in our family, I had two stockings! They were always brimming with candy, fruits (which I think may be a Newfoundland tradition carried over from my dad...), and smaller every-day items. Or picking the sticky unwrapped hard mints out of the threads, partially softened by the nearby fireplace. We didn't care.
After tearing through all the gifts, Christmas morning was usually spent assembling the newest toys. Lacking much in the patience department, I usually had to rely on my brother. He was big into making models, so following instructions was right up his alley. As for myself, much like my father, I had very little patience for the assembly aspect.
Once everything was all put together, that was usually good for a few hours of imaginative play before hitting the outdoors with the other neighbourhood kids to discuss what they'd got and how we could meld our two growing toy worlds in the days to come.
The remainder of the day would always be all about tobogganing, building snow forts, snowball fights, or making snowmen.
As I got older, a prized GT Sno-Racer was one of the best gifts ever. And the fact we lived in a valley town with hills everywhere, including Springhill just down the way, made it even better. Dodging in and out of the trees and pulling up short of the road was a daredevil manouevre that was more 1980s than 2020s.
I also vividly remember some years when hockey cards made a big comeback in the early 1990s. This was around the time of the Eric Lindros draft (read: debacle) and everyone was clamouring for his rookie card. One year we got numerous boxes of cards to open, hoping for that not-so-elusive Lindros rookie card! I had always been a hockey card collector, and still have my childhood cards to this day, and it was always fun to crack some packs. I hazard to guess how many saw their final hours in the spokes of my bike.
As a teenager, the gifts often became some of the latest books on my list or some new threads. As a lazy teen, the day was all about "recharging" from all those busy nights leading up to Christmas. Holiday movies such as Lampoon's Christmas Vacation and Die Hard would always make an appearance at some point. It's not Christmas without Hans Gruber after all.
As a father now myself, the greatest joy is seeing the looks on my boys' faces when they open a gift they weren't expecting. In true dad form, I am usually as surprised as they are because my wife probably bought the gift back in June and had it squirrelled away somewhere.
But the highlight of every year was always the Christmas scoff my dad would kick up. It remains a holiday tradition to this day and I am sure he is getting it ready as you read this. Turkey, stuffing, potatoes, broccoli, canned-shaped cranberry sauce and, of course, his specialty, which is a carrot-turnip mash (never been a fan, but it's always present!). Not to mention my mom's famous trifle from her family's long-held recipe. Yes, please!
My family and I will be at my parents' house in a few hours and I am positive the menu will be the same as it was in 1980. And that's what makes Christmas great.
Raymond Bowe is the editor at BarrieToday.
