My Turn: Memories of a pandemic Christmas

Christmas 2020 is a thing of the past. Thank goodness! One of the few virtues of its passing is we can look forward to at blessed gathering of friends and family in 2021.

Stripped of our five offspring, who abided official urgings to remain far and away, my wife of 57 years and I settled for the barest of celebrations; I couldn’t help but think I resembled Scrooge with a partner.

Still, we must count our blessings, however few. I was allowed to skip bringing down from the attic the splendid artificial tree daughter Julie purchased decades ago.

No offense to her, but I was grateful. My back, legs and arms were appreciative, too; no tuggin’, no luggin’ is a joy when one is approaching 86.

That made me think of "Joy to the World" — it was hard to resist the urge to start caroling. But I recalled an event from freshman year at dear old Midwood High School in Brooklyn. The music teacher tested our lungs, and her comment to my contribution was "Young singer!"

I asked, "What does that mean?"

"That means when everybody else sings, you don’t!" she replied.

Shot down in near infancy.

Well I still had Christmas to look forward to, though it was Christmas 2020. We needed some vestige of the holy holiday. And then it came to me: A miniature tree. I found a 3-foot gem at Home Depot.

I adorned it with white lights. All that was missing was an angel on high, also known as a tree topper. I searched and searched.

Back to Home Depot. I found the only one left. The joy within me turned on high as I raced — well, walked with purpose — to the checkout line; I might have the only angel left in Huntington Town!

But at the checkout counter, I was told it would cost me $27. That was about twice what this retired scavenger was willing to pay. So I left it behind for somebody willing to pay twice as much as this aggrieved soul.

The pre-holy holiday days wore down to a precious few. I had just about given up when I wound up in a Target in Huntington.

I was checking out, eagerly awaiting my 5% kickback for Scott’s treasured product and other paper necessities when it occurred to me I had neglected possible Christmas artifacts.

The young clerk totaling my purchase said I might be able to find what I was looking for, angel or star, but it would be on a shelf as far removed from his checkout counter as the spacious store had space for.

"Next time!" I grimly told him.

But when I got to the car, a burst of cold air brought me to my senses. What better time than now? Who wants to deal with one less shopping day until Christmas? There was every chance the world would run out of angels and stars!

So despite my breathing difficulties, and with my mask annoyingly properly placed, I ventured forth.

A non-star in search of any star. And lo and behold, I found one in the final aisle of Christmas décor. Again, the last one, a five-pointed gem that more than met my price at $5.

I tap-danced to the checkout line, then the car, uttering to myself my commitment to religion: "Thanks, God!"

Unfortunately there would be a further realization. It came to me as I stared at my star. It was so perfect — except for the color.

A bright shiny red, it made me think of the only appropriate thing I might say if we’d had holiday visitors: "Welcome, Comrades!" A strange Christmas, indeed.

Joe Donnelly,

Huntington