When
I was a child growing up in El Paso, Texas, I longed for snow during the holiday
season. The strains of “I’m Dreaming of
a White Christmas” bombarded me from the radio (I was born before TV!). The cards my family sent and received each year featured frosty scenes of
sleigh rides and carolers. In my mind,
snow and Christmas were synonymous. But
year after year, December 25 in El Paso dawned clear and bright, and yes,
sometimes downright warm, and I felt
deprived and cheated. I wanted a real Christmas.
Only very occasionally did El Pasoans awaken to the sight of a serene, still, snow-covered landscape during the holidays. On those rare occasions, we children bundled up and rushed out the door. Outside, we searched for clean snow to combine with vanilla and milk to make snow ice cream. Then snowmen were hastily built only, alas like Frosty, to melt away all too quickly in the Sun City.
Only very occasionally did El Pasoans awaken to the sight of a serene, still, snow-covered landscape during the holidays. On those rare occasions, we children bundled up and rushed out the door. Outside, we searched for clean snow to combine with vanilla and milk to make snow ice cream. Then snowmen were hastily built only, alas like Frosty, to melt away all too quickly in the Sun City.
As
I matured, my appreciation of the El Paso Christmas Experience grew. First, there was the Star on the Mountain
which, until recent times, shone only during the Christmas season. Its first appearance during the season was a
symbol that the festivities could begin.
Nowadays, it shines all year long, but, perhaps a bit more brightly
during cold, crisp December nights.
An
El Paso Christmas came to have a special flavor for me as I began to appreciate
different ways of celebrating the winter holidays. I learned to play a guitar lullaby song to the Baby Jesus in Spanish, “A la nanita
nana,” which became as familiar to me through the years as “Chestnuts Roasting
on an Open Fire.’’ Many
years later in London, England that I actually tasted a roasted chestnut on a
street corner, and it wasn’t that tasty!
I also became fascinated with the ritual of the posada, a reenactment of the search of Joseph and Mary for lodging
in Bethlehem. Typically, area Catholic
churches organize posadas in which groups of people carrying candles walk to
several pre-selected houses in a neighborhood where they request admittance,
using traditional songs. They are told gruffly by the inhabitants of
the house that there is no room at the inn. Finally, at the last household, the
travelers are invited in. Hot drinks,
traditional holiday sweets, prayers, and perhaps a piñata for the children complete the night’s activities, which are repeated each night from December 16th through December 24.
My collection of nacimientos (nativity scenes) grew from an inexpensive one
purchased at a five and dime store to elaborate figures given to me by friends
and family. The last time I counted,
there must have been well over twenty nacimientos
covering every conceivable spot in my house during the Christmas season.
So, as each Christmas season rolls
around, would I give up the Star on the Mountain, posadas, nativity scenes and
tamales hot from the stove for a sleigh ride through the snowy woods on a
crisp, cold night in Connecticut? No, I guess I wouldn’t. I’ll probably just watch a rerun of “Holiday Inn” and unwrap another tamal.
Happy Holiday to all. See you again during New Year's Week.
