I’m not sure how everyone else was raised to celebrate Christmas but for me it entailed much more religion than anything else. My late Mother was Catholic through-and-through which translated into sending religious Christmas cards, attending midnight masses, and donating time to local organizations involved with decorating town areas. Being a kid, I was unceremoniously volunteered to help with almost everything she did whether I liked it or not.
As we age things tend to change a little and my approach to Christmas certainly did. I was never all that interested in the religious portion of Christmas, but I went begrudgingly along just to please my mom until I reached the ripe old age of 13. Then I became what some people might call, difficult. I must have been way ahead of my time if what I’ve learned in recent years is any indication.
A few years ago, my three-year-old grandson came to make his annual Christmas visit. It was the first time he’d actually seen our decorated tree and all the trimmings. We’d been very busy wrapping gifts and there was a pile of them under the tree. I was sitting on the floor next to him when he quietly whispered to me “Are those our prizes?” I told him they were presents for everyone brought here a little early by a busy Santa. He gave me a long sideways glance while he thought about what I’d said. He must have decided Santa was still a real possibility, so the conversation turned right back around to the presents under the tree. I was again corrected by the little guy with “Grandpa those are prizes not presents” and “can we open just one.” I told him they couldn’t be opened until Christmas day but he insisted one of them had to be for him so we should open that one right now. Being chastised by a three-year-old takes some getting used to but I persevered and again refused his request.
Gifts and Presents are Really Prizes
My first thought was who put the word “prize” into his head. Neither my better-half nor I would do it and I’m certain his parents wouldn’t do it either. That leaves just his friends at the daycare center that he attends almost every day. That small herd of little people who have nothing better to do all day than to play, fight, wrestle, nap, and tell each other the facts of life as translated from what they’ve heard at home. Somewhere along the way someone slipped in the word “prizes”, and it seems to have stuck.
There was no mention of Jesus, his birthday, the Magi, church or religion. It’s taken less than two generations to wean the kids from religion at Christmas to a more secular and materialistic outlook. I suppose in another few years we’ll be calling Christmas “Prize Day”. If you’re a good little boy/girl, you win a prize but if you’re a bad little girl/boy you’ll get one anyway. We wouldn’t want you to feel like a loser.
Having Christmas as a religious holiday gave me a fun and interesting childhood. It’s sad to see society steal away some of the youngster’s fantasies at such a young age. I’m not religious now but the memories I have of my family when I was young still make me happy. Christmas is a holiday for the little children and not so much for the adults. It took me a number of years before I made the decision for myself that Christmas wasn’t for me. Let’s let the tots have their fun, they’ll be plenty of time in the future for society to screw with their heads.
In my last post I took you on a tour of Old Orchard Beach, Maine. You got to see the beaches full of people, a friendly bar to hangout in, and a cute bikini clad girl buried in sand. I hope you didn’t think that covered our entire visit because there was much more to it. Today I’ll take you along on our continuing tour that includes my better-half’s favorite spot. Welcome to the Amusement Park.
Doesn’t look like much from the outside but . . .
The Arcade while not my favorite place is always interesting. Tourists from just about anywhere flock to this place to throw their money away or to just drop off their kids for a few hours. Where else can you win tickets for doing just about anything and at the end of your day you’d have spent forty bucks to win enough tickets to buy a pack of gum. My better-half is for some reason a Skee Ball addict. She insists on throwing her money away, winning a fistful of tickets, that she ends up giving to some kid who happens to be standing around picking his nose. It’s always puzzled me and I fear it will continue to do so.
Who can resist all of this fine looking merchandise?
Never let it be said that I’m immune to the attractions of this park. I was once again drawn to a booth where I was permitted to spend five bucks to throw two tiny bean bags at some under inflated balloons. Being a former Little League baseball player I was stunned when I actually broke two of those stupid balloons and won my honey this glorious and somewhat ridiculous prize.
Who doesn’t love a cuddly little frog?
Once again I became a willing victim of all the hype that’s constantly spewed by this park. It seems to happen every time I visit here and stranger still, I don’t mind at all.
I’m so excited by all the hubbub in an amusement park I actually feel kind of bad that I’m not permitted to ride these stupid rides. As a young kid I was too short to ride them and now all these years later I’m too tall and plump to fit in them. There’s just no justice in this world.
I’m not sure how everyone else was raised to celebrate Christmas but for me it entailed much more religion than anything else. My late Mother was Catholic through-and-through which translated into sending religious Christmas cards, attending midnight masses, and donating time to local organizations involved with decorating town areas. Being a kid I was unceremoniously volunteered to help with almost everything she did whether I liked it or not.
As we age things things tend to change a little and my approach to Christmas certainly did. I was never all that interested in the religious portion of Christmas but I went begrudgingly along just to please my Mom until I reached the ripe old age of 13. Then I became what some people called, difficult. I must have been way ahead of my time if what I’ve learned this week is any indication.
My three year old grandson came to visit this week and it was the first time he’d actually seen our decorated tree. We’d been very busy wrapping gifts and there were a pile of them under the tree. I was sitting on the floor next to him when he whispered to me "Are those our prizes?" I told him they were presents for everyone brought here a little early by a busy Santa. He gave me a long sideways glance while he thought about what I’d said. He must have decided Santa was still a real possibility so the conversation turned right back around to the gifts under the tree. I was again corrected by the little guy with "Grandpa those are prizes not presents" and “can we open one.” I told him they couldn’t be opened until Christmas but he insisted one of them had to be for him so we should open that one. Being chastised by a three year old takes some getting used to but I persevered and again refused his request.
My first thought was who put the word “prize” into his head. Neither my better-half nor I would do it and I’m certain his parents wouldn’t do it either. That leaves just the woman who runs the daycare center and I’m positive she wasn’t responsible. Who’s left? Just that small herd of little people who have nothing better to do all day than to play, fight, wrestle, nap, and tell each other the facts of life as translated from what they’ve heard at home. Some where along the way someone slipped in the word "prizes" and it seems to have stuck.
There was no mention of Jesus, his birthday, the Magi, church or religion. It’s taken less than two generations to wean the kids from religion at Christmas to a more secular and materialistic outlook. I suppose in another two years we’ll be calling Christmas "Prize Day". If you’re a good little boy/girl you win a prize but if you’re a bad little girl/boy you’ll get one anyway. We wouldn’t want you to feel like a loser.
everyuselessthing.com 