Christmastime and the lingering magic of memories

Certain time-honored traditions will remain forever embedded in my mind as being the types of traditions that create those warm, fuzzy feelings in my heart.

Most of these memories aren’t of any importance and are sincerely irrelevant in my life today, other than living in my mind as delicious bits of my life that if I had a time machine I would gladly go back to revisit.

Perhaps one of my most vivid memories is of my grandma Stemen’s holiday wreath cookies.

These Yuletide treats were made from cornflakes, doused in some eerily radiant green mixture of food coloring and corn syrup, and molded into tiny wreaths, each with three or four tiny cinnamon dots to capture the absolute essence of a Christmas wreath.

These dangerously delicious treats were just the right size, too big to eat in one bite yet tantalizingly sized to be just big enough to entice a young boy to dare to cram it in and chow down in one mouthful.

I remember driving the three-plus hours to Convoy, Ohio, the thought of popping a half-dozen of those bad boys into my mouth as soon as we arrived, because I knew they would be waiting, beckoning me to quickly digest them.

I recall mornings during trips to Grandma and Grandpa’s house, sleeping upstairs in their gigantic bed, the warm blankets fending off the cold of winter, and fairly leaping down the stairs to have a few more for breakfast.

Another big memory for me at the Stemen home was lying in that big, old bed at night and listening to the forlorn beckoning of the train whistle and the clickety-clack on the railroad tracks, as the trains sang a haunting yet delightful lullaby that helped ease us to sleep.

There is something about that sound that I can still hear in my mind, something surprisingly pleasant and almost reverential.

Another time-honored tradition around our Mast home in Trail was the nut bowl.

Whatever happened to the glorious nut bowl, usually a large wooden bowl that contained nuts of all shapes, sizes and flavors? Hazel, walnut, pecan, almond, Brazil … they were all part of the family, and here’s the thing of the past I always remember: They weren’t your family nut presentation of today.

No, today’s nuts exist in a jar, and there is a 99.9% chance they are shelled and ready to pound by the fistful.

Yes, my fond Christmas memories — and these were pretty much only available at our house during Christmas season if I recall correctly — were in the shell!

Yes, that silver nutcracker and the silly, little pick that was meant to dig our nut meat remains that refused to come out of the shell were always sitting couch-side or on the table or counter, ready to be attacked, one by one.

There is something beautiful about a bowl of shelled nuts, and sadly, it is a tradition that has largely gone to the wayside.

I wish it would return because there is something almost romantic about sitting down and cracking nuts by the fire. It’s almost therapeutic.

More recently with my own kids, the tradition of feeding Santa’s reindeer with special deer food was always a highlight. When the kids were little, we would take a mix of seeds, glitter and other assorted treats and sprinkle them on the ground for Dasher, Dancer and the gang to devour.

We always told the kids the deer needed their strength to zip around the world helping Santa make good on his promise to deliver the goods to every child’s home.

That was always hand-in-hand with preparing Santa’s plate of goodies.

We had a blue “Special” plate for birthdays and other special celebrations, and feeding Santa was always deemed worthy of the blue plate.

We have some of the cutest pictures of the kids preparing a feast of treats for Santa that included homemade cookies and caramel corn, Oreos, Pop Tarts, Nutter Butters, and a big, old glass of milk.

There was always a hand-written letter inviting Santa to enjoy this feast, and it was left out overnight. Somehow, every morning, nearly all the goodies were gone, and Santa always left a beautiful note thanking the boys for their thoughtful act of kindness.

These are but a few of my favorite Christmas memories. I’m certain all of you have your own list and can look back over time and recall these glorious, insignificant yet mightily important times in your life.

Many of you are currently building your own list of memories with children and grandchildren.

My suggestion is to write them down, video them as they take place and pack them away in the recess of your mind forever so as to never forget the little things that matter the most when it comes to celebrating Christmas with family.

These are the memories that live within us and warm our hearts when we return to them, decades later, sifting through the web of moments as though they happened yesterday.

Perhaps that is part of the magic of Christmas.