A Christmas Legacy

As we enter the wee hours of Christmas Eve, my mind can’t help but conjure images of Christmases long past. I mean, they certainly don’t feel so long ago, but alas, calendars don’t lie.

We used to have a family tradition of going to a movie on Christmas Eve. The theater would typically be empty, so it was like getting our own V.I.P. showing of “Home Alone” or “Ernest Saves Something.” We would then go visit my grandmother, who gave my sister and I each one present to open. I can still picture the little Christmas tree with all of its bright colors that sat on a table next to the couch.

Eventually, it was time to go home, and get ready for that famous “You-Know-Who.”

“Oh no, it’s storming! Will Santa and the reindeer be okay?” I remember being worried that particular year, but I also had faith, because nothing in the ‘verse could possibly diminish Santa’s vast stores of magic. Plus, you know, there’s literally an entire song about Rudolph in precisely that very predicament, and it turned out okay, so I wasn’t too worried.

Even thinking about sleep on Christmas Eve was laughable in those days. I recall my sister and I trying to force ourselves to unconsciousness, yet unable to achieve a single wink due to the ever-mounting excitement of the morning to come. (Sugar plum visions never even got the chance to dance in the Graves house. Just like Goodpasture’s prom, come to think of it.) I can see, using the undiminished eyes of my memory, the glow of our outdoor Christmas decorations reflected off the television screen in Steph’s room. I would stare at it for hours upon hours, wondering how much longer I had to wait.

After an agonizing night of eternal torment and so...much...waiting..., the “first wave” of presents finally appeared. SANTA CAME! Good ‘ole reliable, that guy. Let’s go wake up mom and dad! I mean, it’s only 4:30 in the morning; LET’S GET THIS PARTY STARTED, YO! Ugh, why are they so slow to get up?!

Finally, dad—blinking bleary, sleep-deprived eyes—would get the camcorder set up on a tripod and a trusty point and shoot, and he was ready to capture some memories At the mark, get set, GO!, we would eagerly tear in to the seemingly mountains of wrapping paper beneath the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree. After the morning tornado settled down somewhat, our parents would suppress a few yawns, bid us a “Merry Christmas,” then zombie shuffle back to their bedroom, whilst we played with the latest acquisitions to our ever-growing “stuff collection.” (Incidentally, present-day me wonders where I ever got so much energy on so little sleep.)

Later in the day, we would all pile in to the car and drive over to my other grandparents’ house, where an entirely new slew of gifts would await my eager little paws. I can still smell the delicious fragrance wafting out of the kitchen, and hear the crackle of the fire in the fireplace. After all of these years, I can hear my grandmother humming in her reclining chair; a constant, trustworthy soundtrack to so many of my earliest childhood memories.

I miss being a kid. I miss feeling that level of excitement about, well...anything. I miss many of my old family members, who despite being quite alive in my memories, have long since passed on. In the case of my sister and my cousin especially, they went well before their time. But, such things are not ours to decide, much as I often wish otherwise.

What I wouldn’t give to wait up all night with my sister just one more time, or talk with my cousin for hours over the phone about the latest video game. I’d pay a handsome admission just to hear that humming again, even if in those days, I might have paid her to stop.

Again, such things are not ours to decide. The only thing we can do is to cherish the moments laid before us. And while my personal story has lost a few characters over the years, I’ve gained quite a few as well. I now have an entire flock of young nieces and nephews. I get to witness that old magic shining in their eyes every Christmas, and that brings me a measure of joy—even if it doesn’t bring me a Xbox.

Maybe, someday, they’ll look back and have fond memories of me. That, I think, would make quite an endearing legacy.

The Force Was Always With Us

Back in 1999, when I was an enviable twenty years old, the first new Star Wars movie in sixteen years arrived in theaters, called “The Phantom Menace.” In those days, movie tickets weren’t sold in advance, so my mom dropped me and my then-girlfriend off at the Indian Lake Cinema just before noon, to wait over TWELVE HOURS (ugh) in the hopes of nabbing tickets to the midnight premier.

Mind you, this was twelve straight hours of sitting on a concrete sidewalk. We didn’t have the foresight to bring any board games, books, or literally anything to occupy us during that miserable wait. (We were still several years away from the dawn of the smartphone era and ubiquitous WiFi.) We were literally on our own with nothing but our imaginations, and our excitement over what was to come.

(Side note: Later that evening, I do recall that my dad and sister joined us in line, which by then was wrapped all the way around the cinema.)

The time finally arrived for our long-awaited anticipation to be sated. We got our tickets! We had our seats! WE MADE IT, YOU GUYS; WE’RE HERE! Look, those dorks are swinging their lightsabers around at the front of the movie theater, tee hee! (*This was a few years before I would own my own lightsaber, thus joining the ranks of those noble dorks.)

The lights went down. Unwanted previews played, to quite a few “boos.” At long last, the familiar 20th Century Fox fanfare began to blast out of those Dolby surround speakers.

And that crowd...went...insane. Lucasfilm logo? You’d think your team just won the championship. “A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away” fades in, and a few dudes in the front row spontaneously creamed in their pants, then fainted from too much stimulation.

The Star Wars theme blasted our eardrums, and the famous logo careened off into uncharted space, presumably to rendezvous with other famous film logos. People shot to their feet, hootin’ and hollerin’ like Oprah just showed up to give everyone free mansions for life.

The turmoil finally settled down a bit as the crawl began rolling. The roar faded to a few scattered claps, then one last dude shouted a half hearted “woo,” then silence finally descended over the theater.

The remaining run time of the film was spent in similar silence. Even at the closing credits, a somber crowd ambled out of the theater, blinking their bleary eyes in the bright, neon lights of the lobby.

Maybe it was waiting so many hours on the cold, hard cement. Maybe it was due to having to go to work in a few hours. Or, maybe, it was because the film didn’t quite live up to our expectations at the time. (But hey, intergalactic politics, amiright? We all had fun...while learning!)

I’ve never done anything quite so extreme since. Even with the final "Skywalker Saga" movie arriving in cinemas later this week, I won’t be waiting in line for hours. I already have two tickets (for me and my now-girlfriend) for a 2:30 am showing at the local IMAX. I even have my seats already assigned. I’m in the fourth row from the back, in case you’re curious.

I’m excited to see the movie. I’m excited to not have to wait outside on the sidewalk for several hours. I’m excited to have a smartphone now for the few minutes I do have to wait, because I’m older now, and these cat videos on YouTube won’t watch themselves.

The Force is definitely with us...this time.