Family Feast

Today, December 6, is the Feast of St. Nicholas. The date and the occasion stand out in my mind because of a childhood custom.

In some European countries, including Poland, it was on St. Nicholas’ feast day, rather than on Christmas, that gifts were given to children. As I’m sure you know, St. Nick was the original Santa Claus.

Anyway, traditionally, the children’s shoes would be left outside the door, awaiting the nighttime passage of St. Nicholas. If a child had been good, morning would find the shoes filled with gifts and treats. If the kid’s behavior had been found wanting, then the shoes would be stuffed with the dreaded lumps of coal.

When I was a kid, Christmas was one of our two main “family” feasts, the other being our annual summer vacation trip. Now, my mother was big on anticipation. It was her belief that there was as much pleasure to be had in looking forward to an event as there was to the happening itself.

Our Christmas tree was always decorated weeks before Christmas. And Mom's seasonal mantra of behavior control, “Santa Claus is watching,” was in steady use even weeks before that. Contributing to the build up were her frequent hints of the glories to come which, when we got older, she turned into sad predictions of barren Christmas mornings that we knew were just her reverse-psychological teasers for the surprises in store.

The motivating force behind all this was that our Mom was just a big kid at heart. She was living again the joys of her childhood through me and my three sibs. She and my Dad just enjoyed the heck out of seeing us kids having a good time, and a significant portion of their lives was devoted to that pursuit. Christmas was just the perfect opportunity.

Mom used the Feast of St. Nicholas not only to increase the fun and contribute to the build up for the main event, but also as a reminder of our heritage and the original religious inspiration for holiday gift-giving. To these ends, she had us put our shoes in the hallway outside our bedroom doors on the eve of St. Nick’s feast, with sad laments about the tons of coal that were sure to result.

The next dawn, of course, saw us deep in the throes of a mini Christmas. Small toys, gadgets and wrapped holiday goodies would be overflowing our shoes and normal morning routines would be forgotten—which could be a problem if it was a school morning, as it so often was. But our parents’ joy, as well as our own, was fulfilled. And they also had the foresight to wake us up a little earlier than usual if school was on tap that day.

St. Nicholas, we thank you.