If we knew what we were missing

We were Unitarians, barely, attending Christmas Eve services in Gardner some years and not others. I pretty much stopped going to church when I was 14, preferring the Sunday New York Times.
I never saw my grandparents, my father's parents, go to church. The Finnish Lutherans were a strong force in some parts of the immigrant community, but seemed to have left us untouched. We have my mother's confirmation certificate, written in Finnish, but that childhood experience seemed to have left her unharmed.
So, it's in that spirit that we celebrated Christmas when I was growing up. My father picked up his parents at their three-decker in Gardner and brought them to our house on Christmas Eve. (My grandfather parked the car in his garage and didn't drive after the first snowfall.)
We had a light dinner and opened our presents. For that reason, it was tough to get into the whole Santa Claus thing, even though my tribe hails from the place that claims to be the home of Santa Claus (via). Once, and I might have been five, I took a nap in the afternoon to see if we could pretend me into believing. It didn't really work.
Some years later, I worked with a woman from Detroit. She grew up listening to Motown music and missed the Beatles invasion altogether. That's how it was for me and Santa Claus, not knowing that I was missing something big. In my colleague's case, she got Motown music; I got baked turnip.
Some Christmases weren't flush. One year, we wrapped empty packages so that the space under the tree wouldn't look so empty.
My father occasionally got some welding work at one of the Fitchburg paper plants. One time, he brought home a 4' roll of wrapping paper, a light-blue floral print. For the next many years, all of our gifts were wrapped in that same paper.

Those weren't particularly good times or bad times. They were just our times.
As powerful as the emotions can be around Christmastime, it's good for me to realize that the long-lasting memories aren't any more or less shaped by the holidays past. The joy and pain can be searing in the moment, but the sensations don't usually last.