When I was a child, and by default much more cheerful because hopeful, the annual lighting of the Rockefeller Center Christmas Tree was a joy to behold. The dazzling array of glistening colors towering above a bustling swarm of spectators within a frosty night lent an eager camaraderie and expectation to the Yuletide season. The sight of ice skaters in the rink wondrously gliding and pirouetting to the accompaniment of tinny Christmas tunes, while various confections sumptuously beckoned and chestnuts steamed their roasted fragrance through the air, and showcase windows blazoned their elaborate wares, were sights that heralded Christmas as if by angels or a star that wise men followed. These were, for me and for many, what Christmas was all about…of course, its religious solemnity joyously transformed into its commercialized frivolity. But who was I to argue with this pleasant situation?
Unfortunately, when one becomes inevitably older and regretfully wiser, one finds himself or herself more prone to argue with pleasant situations that are oftentimes in fact superficial and annoying. The bustling swarms of spectators are more like a swarm of bees, shoving one another in the cold night to gaze on an overrated and over-sized tree with an exaggerated string of lights through its branches. The eager camaraderie is more aptly described as a mob scene, that tends to make one believe that Ebenezer Scrooge was a decent man after all who was victimized by a bunch of sadistic ghosts with nothing better to do but to disturb an old man’s peaceful if miserly sleep. He or she would wish and pray that those ice skaters would glide or pirouette into a wall (preferably a brick one), that those candy and chestnut vendors would take their treats and shove them, and that those showcase windows would be merrily looted by a band of larcenous elves.
In the end, I invariably find myself appreciating the beauty of it all. The Tree is undoubtedly majestic and the crowds not so rude nor troublesome…indeed, I find two or three and many more among them quite decent. I find the scent of roasted chestnuts much too tempting and buy a bag along with some chocolates. A young and graceful skater, a girl of about seventeen, flawlessly dancing to “The First Noel” glides like an angel, a small image seen through the crowd …she reminds me of a girl I knew long ago who was also young and graceful. I notice a star in the sky, through the city’s glare-laced atmosphere, that twinkles faintly and find myself recalling fabled wise men who also searched the heavens and traveled the desert, expecting something wonderful.
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