I’ve really enjoyed reading about some of the holiday traditions my co-worker Julie Perine rounded up from around the area. You can read more about those at either of these two links: PART 1 or PART 2.

 

Of course, that got me thinking about some of my own family’s traditions.

 

For as long as I can remember, my Dad puts a piece of jewelry on the Christmas Tree for my Mom. I’ve adopted that one in my own house for both my wife and daughter.

 

I always put a new ornament on my parents’ tree for my Mom to find.

 

On Christmas Eve, we eat finger foods and play bingo, each game’s winner gets to pick a prize.

 

In an effort to extend Christmas morning festivities a little longer, we open stockings, pause for a breakfast smorgasbord and then proceed to opening presents.

 

There are plenty of others but my main topic for today isn’t necessarily a tradition as it is an obsession.

 

This might surprise some people, but I’m a big Christmas village fan. And when I say big, I start thinking in October if the Fire Station is in the best “display” spot or would it cause issues if the school was next to the bowling alley.

 

I’m the type of person that goes out after Christmas and looks for deals on shrubbery for next year.

 

I can’t pinpoint when this obsession started but my village collection has grown to the point where there isn’t room enough for horizontal expansion. Bustling streets have become vertical,  or as I like to look at it, there are streets at ascending elevations … kinda like Morgantown I guess.

 

The zoning permit process isn’t all that rigid in my village. There are buildings from the Charles Dickens collection, there are buildings picked up from the Dollar Tree.

 

I add at least one new addition every season. This year’s new business was a french fry stand complete with a boy and his puppy waiting patiently to be served. My wife and daughter may have rolled their eyes when I brought it home and said “I bought this because this is me and Oliver (our dog) waiting for french fries.”

 

At last count, I had eight separate groups of carolers but two of them are exactly the same. There are two school marms, three bridges over no water, four foxes hanging out with some cardinals with no evidence of fowl play and I have no idea how many snowmen or dogs (but seriously, can a Christmas village ever have enough snowmen or dogs?).

 

I have a football field and in an homage to the Super Six in Wheeling, the field is right beside a Riverboat Casino (I know Wheeling Island Casino is not on a boat but work with me here).

 

Somebody once asked me, “Well, what do you do with your Christmas village?”

 

I had no better answer than, “I just look at it.”

 

As I’ve grown older, I find myself wondering what it would be like if I was transplanted into that village and it came to life.

 

Which hot chocolate stand would be the closest to work? Closest to my house? Which brick fence would be best to take cover during a snowball fight? How often does one have to go to a shoe cobbler?

 

I think of how much easier the conversations at home prior to walking out the door would be.

 

“Honey, I need some bait, so I’m going to the bait shop. Then I need a toy, so I’m going to the toy store. Do you want me to bring back a burger from the burger stand?”

 

That’s an underrated charm of any Christmas village, the simplicity in the names of the stores. No guesswork on what’s inside, when the name on the sign is “Jewelry Store.”

 

This year as I was setting the village up, I noticed something for the first time. I have a figurine of a guy carrying apples — not an uncommon accessory. In fact, I bet any of you that collect Christmas village stuff probably have this same guy.

 

But what caught my eye this year, was the look of pure joy and content on this figurine’s face. Maybe he is just a jolly fellow. Maybe he just really loves apples. Regardless, this man is happy just to be carrying a bushel of apples. It doesn’t matter if he’s taking them home, getting ready to feed them to the deer or hand them out to people on the street.

 

Then I thought that’s the guy I would want to be. The guy that doesn’t care who you voted for, what your stance on global pandemics is, who your favorite team is, or which end of the village you go to church at. The guy that just wants to give you an apple and wish you well.

 

The guy that will congratulate you when you have good news. The guy that will say I’m sorry when you have bad news.

 

No judgement, no countering what ever you have to say, no yelling, no name calling, no making fun of you. Just apples, a promise to listen to whatever you have to say and if you don’t mind, I might want to pet your dog.

 

Life is never going to be a simple as what my imagination envisions it is in my Christmas village.

 

But that doesn’t mean I can’t strive to be the guy just happy to be carrying a bushel of apples.

 

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all.