Column: Enduring the holiday season

In Season Three of the Netflix drama “The Crown,” Queen Elizabeth reflects on what she thinks makes the royal family “normal.” What they share with the commoners, that is. “Christmas is to endure,” she says.

Of course, the Windsors’ lifestyles are nothing like those of their subjects, but maybe she does have a point about the holidays.

Maybe no amount of money and prestige can allay the periods of stress, tedium and aggravation that punctuate our lives between Thanksgiving and New Year’s. 

I do envy those who enjoy the holiday season. I do not. Like the queen, I endure it.

Once, I loved Christmas. As a child, my family would spend Christmas Eve with my father’s sister and her family. The next day, after opening presents, we’d go over the line from Massachusetts to Rhode Island to the house where my mother grew up.

She came from a family of nine, and at least half of her siblings, and their children, would show up for dinner. It was always grand to see my cousins, who lived in different towns. (Dad’s sister, Beatrice, lived in the same town as us, so I saw her children more often.) 

Then it would be over to Aunt Bea’s house for turkey sandwiches and whatever goodies she had prepared, and to see my cousins’ presents.

My parents were generous but not extravagant in the their gift giving, so my sister and I were never overwhelmed by too many presents. One of my father’s brothers was a bachelor physicist. He always gave me books, which pleased me. Dad’s other brother and his family lived in Manhattan. They always sent me interesting things, like the decorated cloth purse I thought of as my “hippie bag.”

But after I married Paul and moved to Maine, Christmas became more difficult. I had more people to buy presents for. All the gifts had to be wrapped and then packed for travel. We would journey first to my mother’s house for Christmas Eve (usually with two dogs in tow) and then to Paul’s parents’ home, about an hour and a half away, on Christmas Day.

Paul’s brother had two children, and eventually they began having their own kids. I always enjoyed the little ones, but after all the preparation and travel (not to mention the sleep-inducing turkey), I’d be exhausted by mid-afternoon.

I found the holidays difficult during that period, which went from 1986 to 2005.Yet, there were bright spots. We were able to catch up with friends the day after the holiday. My mother always came home with us to Maine. As an educator, I’d have at least a week off to spend with her. Hitting the after-Christmas sales was one of our favorite activities.

Then Paul’s mother fell ill and things changed. She and my mother had both passed away by 2010, and Paul and I were on our own. Some years we had Christmas dinner with a friend, but she too, has since passed.

I think the holiday spirit was drummed out of me by 20 years of frenetic shopping and traveling. But, of course, I miss the people who have gone. I miss the family togetherness, even if sometimes it was tense or exhausting.

At the same time, it’s comforting to have no expectations for a spectacular holiday. Paul and I have a tall, old ficus tree that dominates the living room. There’s no room for another tree, so we decorate the fig, with lights and all. I keep up the tradition of sending Christmas cards. I enjoy holiday music (but strictly after Thanksgiving). I will put a wreath on the front porch, and well-loved decorations around the house.

I will make a tourtière (meat pie, although I use ground turkey) for Paul on Christmas Eve. That’s a French-Canadian tradition he grew up with. We’ll open our presents to each other on Christmas morning, and watch a holiday movie in the afternoon. We usually give each other at least one book, so we’ll spend some time reading. Hopefully the weather is good enough to go for a walk.

The past few years I’ve bought a digital Advent calendar created by a British company. Each day features an animated vignette or project, such as wreath decorating. Last year’s calendar was set in Edinburgh; this year it’s the Cotswolds. I can’t wait to begin. Once dinner is done, it’s my treat to sit in my reading chair and open up the calendar.

I always give a calendar to a friend, and sometimes we will e-mail each other if we’ve particularly enjoyed that day’s offering.

My hope is to make Christmas more about experiences than presents. I find, as I grow older, that I want less. For example, I’m a librarian, so though I’m a voracious reader, I have access  to a lot of books. I don’t need to own them all.

It seems I’ve reached a point in my life when I feel I should be getting rid of things, rather than accumulating new ones. (This does not apply to shoes.)

I think I am at peace with my simple holiday. But it’s hard to ignore the message that Christmas is supposed to be something more…spectacular. Come to think of it, that is what I must endure, for the next three and a half weeks.