More Holiday Ranting

I remember when I was little and I would watch Miracle on 34th Street every year. I've watched all the incarnations and none are as good as the version with the adorable Natalie Wood, the beautiful Maureen O'Hara, the handsome John Payne, and the quintessential Kris Kringle . . . Edmund Gwenn.

I grew up believing that Macy's was the best! After all, it had the only Thanksgiving parade worth watching. (It was the only one network television showed!) They had fabulous balloons and the Rockettes. 

Macy's was the store with a heart and the true spirit of Christmas.

On my very first trip to the city, as a young adult, I made a special point of going to Macy's and purchasing important items there. After all, it was the miracle store and a landmark.

I had innocently kept this view of Macy's well into adulthood. 

In Boston we had our own landmark store, Jordan Marsh, which was actually older than Macy's. 

Every year my grandmother would dress me in my best party dress. We would get on the bus in front of our house and go to Newton Corner, transfer to a trolley that would take us to Kenmore Square, go below the surface to the subway, and take the subway to downtown Boston. I shivered in delight at the thought of going into the city to see Santa Claus. It was a major undertaking for an elderly woman and a shy little girl.

Jordan Marsh also had a Christmas tradition which began in the 1940s. It was an Enchanted Village. It occupied an entire floor and people would come from all over to stand in line to see the village and end their pilgrimage with a visit with Santa and a photo. Then they would shop. You couldn't go to Jordan Marsh and not shop, and then end the day in their bakery with a fabulous blueberry muffin and a hot chocolate!

The Enchanted Village was an incredible draw, until for some reason, Jordan Marsh did away with it in the 1970s. 

It was revived again in the 1990s and masses of people once again stood in long lines to view the Village and to purchase gifts they could just have easily obtained at their local mall.

Then in 1998 the dastardly Macy's took over the iconic Jordan Marsh and said, "There will be no more Enchanted Village, we want to use the space for offices."

People were devastated. Why would the legendary purveyors of Christmas, the store that was made famous by the best of all Christmas movies, Miracle on 34th Street, why would they want to destroy a Boston Christmas tradition. 

What would they do next? Replace Santa in the parade with a robot?

I may be too sensitive, but I have not been able to watch the parade nor the movie since.

After the demise of the Village in the department store, it was moved to City Hall Plaza and the city sponsored it until they decided it was something they could no longer handle and sold the Village at auction on June 16, 2009. At that time it was bought by Jordan's Furniture (no relations to Jordan Marsh - it is a unit of Warren Buffet's Berkshire Hathaway and still operated with one of the original owners guiding the business) and moved to their Avon store.

Now when I go to visit the Village and see Santa I am tempted to buy a new desk or living room suite instead of a porcelain doll or a cashmere sweater.

It may be unreasonable, but I still blame Macy's for killing a local tradition. They could have found another space for their offices!

What holiday traditions in your area have been destroyed in the name of profit?

Passing the Holiday Torch

In keeping with the holiday theme, we have Karen Frisch, author of What's in a Name, Lady Delphinia's Deception, and Murder Most Civil.  

PASSING THE HOLIDAY TORCH

            No matter how much snow fell outside, inside our Christmas holidays were always about sharing and being grateful. When I was young every Christmas Day afternoon would be spent at my grandfather’s house, where my unmarried aunt presided over the kitchen. Holidays meant lots of people and lots of laughter. There were two Christmas trees, two dining tables, and lots of guests, some of whom we didn’t know. My aunt not only took in stray cats, she always invited friends and co-workers who were alone at the holidays. Conversations we had started with relatives at Thanksgiving often continued at Christmas. The numbers gathered added to the merriment.

            There were presents for everyone under the large tree in the sunroom. As children, we had the honor of distributing them and watching as they were opened, waiting impatiently for our turn. After a second round of dessert, we would adjourn to the parlor where a tabletop tree was surrounded by smaller presents quickly encircled by children, with a wider ring of relatives on the periphery. The feeling it imparted was one of generosity, thoughtfulness, and love.

            Beforehand, at home with our parents, Christmas meant putting candles in the windows, decorating the tree together, and cooking for my parents’ annual Christmas Eve party. I can still hear my dad singing along to Tennessee Ernie Ford’s Christmas carols with his strong, compelling voice. The activities held more significance over time. Memories of these rituals sustained us when those relatives were no longer with us.

            Our large gatherings have dwindled down to a few, and all the faces have changed but mine. My children and I set the table the same way, with some of the same dishes. I still set out bread for my grandfather, an assortment of nuts for my great-aunt, and a loaf of cranberry bread for my mother. Though they are no longer present at the table, they are there in spirit. Now we know they were the gifts. They go, but they leave indelible memories.

            Holidays and especially dinners represent the passing of the torch to others, a relay of traditions from one generation to the next. New generations means new topics of conversation. There is change, but there is also continuity in the children.

            Which reminds me, it’s time to buy more cranberries…