Remember the simple joys we savored in our youth

When everything goes wonderfully well at the holidays, it’s still stressful.

Times are so wrought with demands and expectations for holiday cheer, we wonder if we will ever survive. Will we have time for meaning and spirit amid the hustle and bustle? Will our long-lost relatives eventually go home?

We will survive if we allow ourselves to place the holiday season in perspective and witness this time of your through the eyes of children, through the wonder and innocence we once possessed.

We can watch their fascination and excitement over the simplest of things: the first snowfall, the “Grinch,” the promise of a toy! Then, maybe we can rekindle the magic we have long forgotten, or lost temporarily.

Observe children

I am lucky enough to have two wonderful boys, ages 7 and 4, who show me every day how this world should be viewed and what should be deemed important. I watch in amazement as they leap for joy in anticipation of magical gifts, turning cartwheels, or blowing milk out of their noses – sometimes planned, sometimes unexpectedly.

Revel in their ability to combine the puzzling world of Pokemon with “Who Wants to Be a Millionaire.”

“OK, Dad, for $400, which of the following is not a Pokemon? A. Charmander, B. Jigglypuff, C. Pikachue, or D. ….Bob?” The two lifelines it took did not dampen their enthusiasm.

To watch them experience the world with this simple perspective makes me yearn for my own youth – a time when life was shaped by those joyful experiences, the memorable moments so etched in my soul that they only need a spark to rekindle them.

I can recall all my favorite candies growing, delectable delights that brought me both joy and tooth decay. The simple sugar-filled straw known as thee Pixie Stick that made even the calmest of children look like a hyperactive grooming cat as they frantically licked away every last morsel from their hands.

Remember the elegant yet edible Candy Necklace, confectionary jewelry stylishly worn by prim and proper young girls. Any attempt to eat them however, made even the most delicate young lady transform into a rabid wolf. They devoured each candy link until left with the unflattering rope of saliva draped around their necks.

Sweet memories
Or the diabolical sheet of wax paper, peppered with colored candy buttons arranged in asymmetrical rows that made us wonder how to actually ingest them. We decided instinctually to gnaw them off, like rodents, getting some candy, mostly paper. We felt like we were eating candy off of wallpaper, and we loved it.

And who can forget the miracle called, Wax Lips of Juice. Red lips filled with the best sugar water we ever tasted. We drank and drank until left with the hollowed lips that looked so good we could not throw them away. Instead we decided to chew like champions until any remaining flavor was woefully gone, for about eight seconds. Eventually, we discovered this was not candy at all; it was a candle.

One cannot look back on such vivid memories and not recall the context in which they occurred. We remember where we lived, who we were with, what time in our childhood, what place in our hearts. It is these burning images that remain with us forever, reminding us of who we were, and who we have become.

Has it been so long since we have experienced a time that captures both our hearts and our imaginations, where mud puddles weren’t inconvenient obstacles to avoid, but rather, timely opportunities to play? Or have we become so sophisticated and cynical that we can no longer retreat into the simplest of worlds where laughter prevailed, and toys ruled our lives. We never cared that they were ridiculously overpriced, rarely performed like advertised or that batteries were never included. We eventually overcame the dilemma of crucial characters in our fantasy world being noticeably absent, only to discover later they were sold separately.

Consider the conspiracy of cooking better known as the Easy Bake Oven: 40 watts of culinary power designed to create concoctions reminiscent of the finest pastry shops of Paris. Four long hours under a dimly lit bulb could not diminish our anticipation as we eagerly awaited the arrival of a 2-inch pie, cut into quarters, that looked more like pudding left out in the sun. We savored each bite as if it was caviar, and left satisfied, although remarkably hungry. In spite of this highly technical training, my sister still cannot cook worth a darn. Of course, my own surgical skills, hone by hours of monkey wrench removal during the game Operation have not proven fruitful either.

Of course, we males were treated to various action figures each capable of enormous mass destruction and accompanied by the unmistakable sound effects that only   prepubescent boys could produce. Superman, The Hulk, GI Joe with his famous Kung Fu grip that was actually incapable of grasping anything larger than his other hand. Or the hundreds of plastic army men realistically reproduced and each with a distinctive action pose; the sharpshooter, the grenade tosser, even that soldier with bent halfway up in desperation as he attempted to scale that imaginary wall. Inevitably, every batter, no matter how ferociously fought, the amount of ammunition, or how close to the combatants was always met with the mortal cry, “You missed me, you missed me, nah na na nah nah nah.”

Ah, the innocence of youth.

Eventually, we graduated to more complex and elaborate games of skill, like Battleship, Gnip Gnop, or the Classic NFL Electronic Football. We were told that with one burst of power, the carefully planned technical maneuvers of our athletes would be executed with artistic grace and military precision that would be nothing short of poetry. In actuality, once electrified, each team looked more like cockroaches scurrying under a floodlight, or minimally, bees making honey. About 10 players never even changed position, only vibrating slightly with the buzz. Once renegade lineman, however, always seemed to bolt immediately towards the end zone, repeatedly ramming himself against the goal post until collapsing as if having a seizure. The beauty of athletic competition.

This holiday season provides us the perfect environment to experience the miracles of joy, of hope, of laughter. Through the eyes of our children, may we rediscover our youth and the rebirth of our souls. And remember that the gifts we give during this time have less to do with the actual prize inside, than the box that they came in. Because it was the box we played with long after the toy was destroyed.

Happy holidays.