Christmas is, if nothing else, a time for remembering and reminiscing. A time when phrases like "I remember when..." and "That was the year..." get their miles. Memories are made and treasured from every year, be it in the form of photos, video tapes, or just pleasant recollections. 

Like all good children, as a young'un, I remembered and separated my Christmases by what I received in the form of material wealth that year. My mother, bless her heart, tried her best to discourage this behavior, but kids will be kids, and I was often known to make her blush with shame when uttering such phrases as "That was the year I got my American Girl Doll." or "I got that the same Christmas as I got my Kid Pix program." 

But Christmas is memorable for more than just the presents. There's the year I was performing an impromptu one-dancer rendition of the Nutcracker's Waltz of the Flowers, and ended up falling full-on into the bauble-bedecked, and glitter-strewn tree. There was the year Mom accidentally gave my present from her to a friend of hers instead. The holidays have all kinds of memories attached to them.

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Of course, when you're little, Christmas means Christmas pageants. A time for parents and teachers to force older children into unimaginable shame, and to coo and laugh at the younger ones wearing bathrobes and singing out-of-tune renditions of carols. 

When I was six or seven, I was assigned the role of "prophetess" in our yearly pageant. Which is to say that I got to read a snatch of scripture about the birth of Christ, and sing with the choir. I had a very severe case of dandruff at that age, and the weather had been dry, so my scalp was very itchy. Wait, don't go yet...there is a point to all this. 

Lacking certain social graces that most people acquire later in life, I was not ashamed to scratch my head for minutes on end, producing embarrassing falls of "snow" which never failed to cause my mother great grief when in a public setting.

Before the program started, Mom took great pains to instruct me about stage behavior. "Don't let the audience see you scratching your scalp like that." she instructed. When show time came, and we began to sing the opening carol, I was in agony. I felt like I had ants crawling through my hair. But I dutifully kept my hands at my sides.

About halfway through, I couldn't take it anymore. The irritation was too much. So I devised a clever solution to the problem: I ducked down behind the row of choir kids in front of me, and happily scratched away. Ah...relief! My flaky head temporarily sated, I stood back up and continued to sing. But pretty soon, the urge overcame me again, and down I went, crouching behind the protective backs of my comrades to answer the call of my itchy head.

And so it went, all the way through the end of the program. Every ten minutes or so, when the need arose, I sank out of view of the audience, and then reappeared a moment later. After the program, Mom met me with a stony countenance. I couldn't understand what she was so upset about...I had followed her instructions to the letter. Not a single, solitary member of the audience had seen me so much as touch my head. My dad thought it was a great joke. Mom, however, did not have such as obliging a sense of humor, and it took a while before she would laugh at the memory.

***

Then there was the year that I received my very own copy of Riven, the newest, best strategy/adventure game at the time. Jim and I marveled at the game-play graphics and the marvelous looking cut scenes. We plugged it into his state-of-the-art, gamer's heaven computer, and had at.

We were struck dumb by the amazing graphics. The game was just as beautiful as all the advertisements said. I loved it. But pretty soon we were both frustrated because after a while, we had only explored two islands, couldn't find a way off either of them, and we had to explore all five of the islands in order to win the game. 

So, like all good webbies, Jim went straight to some game website, and downloaded us a step-by-step guide of how to win the game. Ha. Now we had it licked. We played on into the wee hours of the morning, and finally, at about two am December 26th, we had beaten the game. We had been thoroughly dazzled by the insanely gorgeous graphics, we had beaten the pith out of the bad guy, we had joined the cause of the Moiety Rebels...and we had beaten the game. 

Jim turned to me and gasped "That was so cool!" I sat back and agreed "Yeah...I'm almost sorry it's over." 

"Me too."

We stared at each other for a moment, and then grinned in unison. "Let's do it again!" exclaimed Jim. We beat Riven the second time at about five in the morning. It was an awesome Christmas.

***

Last year I was in Oregon, sick, sleepy, cold, and missing Bill. We had been friends for months by then, and while there was officially nothing even remotely romantic between us, I wanted terribly to be with him instead of at my aunts house, drugged up and Benedrill because it was the only medicine they had. 

Arriving home a few days later, I got an e-mail in my inbox that said he had received a virtual postcard I had sent him from Oregon. As a post-script, he added "Hope you enjoyed your Christmas, even though you were sick. I missed you!" 

I was all smiles. He missed me, too! That made me feel good. It wasn't quite "I love you madly, and I want you to be my wife" but it was a start. That alone was like a special Christmas present.

***

This year is the first of many that I will be spending with this wonderful man of mine. We are both discovering the art of finding the perfect gift for your fiancée, and are also realizing just how difficult it can be to be a part of two families at once. We will be jetting around from place to place, his house in the morning, mine later in the morning, and his aunt's in the afternoon. Madness, sheer madness. 

Still, it is a very special thing to be able to give and receive gifts as a couple instead of as individuals. My favorite "for both of you" gift of the year? A night light from Green Tea which has two little polar bears kissing under some mistletoe, and a big ice berg and a red candy-cane heart that lights up behind them. Adorable. 

***

And now it's time for me to sign off, so Happy Holidays from my family to yours, may you enjoy this season whether you celebrate Christmas, Hanukah, or some other, even more exotic festival. May you be blessed with a joyous New Year, and enjoy the dawning of the new millennium...unless you are one of those people who think the millennium doesn't start until 2001, in which case, have fun squashing everybody else's fun.