Lighter Side of Christmas

On the lighter side of Christmas – in the earliest days – we kids had tons of energy. The Christmas tree stood tall and beautiful. In our family, we transitioned from stockings, stories, gifts, and cookies to bad puns and worse jokes, with siblings creating traditions that either stuck or were instantly dropped. The best tension-breaker was always, by common agreement, a dive into collective madness.

We had both good and less good traditions. On the “let’s keep it” side were old ones, like a little sleigh with littler gifts at the center of the table, which – once plates were clean and collected – became the focus of attention.

The sleigh had tiny gifts, each wrapped and placed neatly inside it by someone who was not a kid. To each was attached a long red ribbon. The ribbons had names. Once we were stuffed and drifting toward our turkey-and-gravy-induced tryptophan naps, my aunt would break the drift with big news.

It was “time for the sleigh!” Ribbons with names got stretched to each person at the table; occasionally, some added. On “go,” all ribbons were then pulled. Chaos followed, occasionally accompanied by a tipped-over drink, entangled ribbons, and always laughter. We were now awake.

This was when new traditions got hatched, usually by an older sibling or cousin. There was the year that we all decided to test our post-dinner courage with a daring run around the house barefoot in the snow. That tradition died a very fast death, and whoever imagined the idea was booed.

Another tradition, besides repurposing wrapping paper as cross-room projectiles, especially by older siblings and cousins gently clocking younger ones, was the idea of family photos – back when photos were prepared for – with goofy hats, or one year packing peanuts on every nose.

These are the sorts of spontaneous traditions – noting here that traditions are not supposed to be spontaneous – which seem really hilarious at the time, but on review appear bizarre and lunatic.

Then there were the stories religiously retold, which always seemed to grow or change shape as years progressed. At first, we would correct one another, then – with enough eggnog and a touch of maturity – we allowed each other to elaborate uncorrected, and…fish got bigger every year.

Randomly, someone would find a joke gift – the old “nut can with snake” – and reload the springing snake, quietly hand it off to an unsuspecting visitor. Snake flew, and all laughed. Or someone would find an unopened gift, back of the tree, which turned out to be a big box with smaller and smaller ones in it, until a tiny box emerged with either something truly wonderful or nothing at all.

In due time, after old jokes had been exhausted and new ones lofted, we turned to a curious tradition, which cracked us up until we grew up – which most of us never have, so it still cracks us up. We invented nonsensical jokes, which went something like this: “Why were the two penguins in the tub?” “No soap, radio.” We all fell over. If you ever watched Monty Python, these jokes might appeal; they made no sense at all.

Then, over the years, we went further, pretending to “number” our jokes, then just saying a random number – to which no real joke was attached – and everyone would crack up. This went something like, “I have one, I have one…423!” Mass laughter. “Okay, okay, let me think…329!” Everyone would keel over, until someone said, “Oh, come on, that’s an old one, how about…”

This went on until someone quieted us or suggested we all go outside, or play a real game, maybe watch football or a Christmas movie, or do something slightly more constructive.  

Invariably, the day would edge toward night with everyone full, most laughed-out, ready for a good long sleep. We would return home, or if at home, to our rooms, soon be dreaming of how Santa must be dreaming, about how all the fun he had delivered had triggered more fun – which it did. All that energy was expended. Still, the next morning, our Christmas tree stood tall. It was still beautiful.

Robert Charles is a former Assistant Secretary of State under Colin Powell, former Reagan and Bush 41 White House staffer, Maine attorney, ten-year naval intelligence officer (USNR), and 25-year businessman. He wrote “Narcotics and Terrorism” (2003), “Eagles and Evergreens” (North Country Press, 2018), and “Cherish America: Stories of Courage, Character, and Kindness” (Tower Publishing, 2024). He is the National Spokesman for AMAC. Today, he is running to be Maine’s next Governor (please visit BobbyforMaine.com to learn more)!