My Parents Killed The Magic Of Christmas

So, I have to rebuild it myself…

This story is about LEGO, religion, and heartfelt stuff, so beware, it could become opinionated, touching and everything in-between. At times, you might feel we’re on very different sides, and that’s OK, because I warned you. 🙂 And even if I didn’t, it should be, because it’s Christmas. Or is it…?

I was just 7 when I realised there was no Santa, though I distinctly remember being only 4 and trying to put two and two together and not making much sense. I was born in ’85 in a decent-sized city in the far West of the pre-90s Communist Romania, just 50 km from the Hungarian border. Just before Christmas of ’89, and right around my 4th birthday — in fact right on the day of my 4th birthday, peaceful signs of protests already started surfacing among the general population — the wave of the Romanian Revolution of ’89 reached our city too.

It is one of my first vivid memories of my mother telling dad to move away from the window, as bullets were flying outside, just a short walk away from us. As my dad heeded my mum’s advice, he tried calming mum down, telling her, the concrete is strong enough not to let bullets through. We both trusted him. After all, he built many of the apartment blocks we lived in back then.

What happened next, was something that some might argue started my entire life’s tendency to question everything. I remember being in the kitchen — the only decently heated area of the apartment thanks to the gas stove that was a tad more reliable than electricity — when my dad walked in pretending to be all surprised, saying Santa came early that year, and that I should check what’s under the tree. It was a blue tricycle, one I thoroughly enjoyed cycling around the living-room table pretending it was a big city, and I was a bus driver, driving a bus, making stops. What I never told my parents, however, is that none of it made sense. The tree wasn’t yet decorated, Santa — or as we called him, Father Winter — wasn’t supposed to come early, bullets were apparently flying outside and while we did have a make-shift chimney connected to a small wood-burning stove in the living-room, it was tiny, and the chimney was really just a z-shaped metal pipe. I was only four, but smart enough to question the reality of Santa, in light of all my observations.

It took another three years to find confirmation. As a curious kid, I liked discovering everything around the apartment. It wasn’t big. Just 60 or so square meters, but I wasn’t a tall kid, so the higher up areas in the closets became an achievable milestone only as I reached the age of 7. I fully admit that I was the sole architect of my loss of faith in Santa, as there it was, behind the stack of clothes — a light-green toy semi-truck. I don’t remember feeling anything but, in some weird way — success. It was confirmation that my 4-year-old self had it right all along. I said nothing to my parents.

It’s funny how as a child, I wanted to protect my parents’ feelings as much as they were trying to protect mine.

I did tell them though, shortly after Christmas, that I know. What I didn’t know however was what was going to stem from that conversation. The next year dad announced there was going to be no more Christmas tree, given how I already knew there was no Santa, he saw no point to it. I didn’t know how to argue yet, and mum just wasn’t the type. Another year later, it all became a little bit more bizarre as I also found out the real reason why dad opted against the Christmas tree the year before. As we were visiting some friends in a neighbouring city, the conversation around Christmas traditions became the main topic. What caught my ears was my dad’s argument…

The Christmas Tree has its roots in pagan religions, it’s an idol, and therefore has no place in a Christian home. — my dad

I told you this would get controversial… 🙂 For 30 years, I lived without the magic of Christmas, and without a Christmas Tree. My parents still don’t decorate a tree, and Christmas is barely different from any other day. While they both have eased up a tiny bit on their religious views, three decades of going without Christmas traditions, has killed the magic for them too. If it wasn’t utilitarian, it didn’t make sense. If something had no tangible purpose, it warranted no effort. Sure, I would get my presents, but from the age of 7 saw no wrapping paper either. It was strictly a “here you go, Merry Christmas”, directly as it came from the shop — typically a LEGO set.

It took me another two decades to really understand what happened to me as a 7-year-old kid, and it’s something that no shrink could have ever made me realise better than the movie called “Grinch”. Over my teenager years, and early young adult years, many would call me “Little Grinch”. Some laughed with me, others laughed at me, but it took me years to watch the movie, and when I did, it broke me. To date, it’s one of the most heart-breaking stories I can recall apart from The Little Match Girl, and I must admit that right now I am struggling to hold back tears as I write this piece, so I’ll pour these emotions into some advice meant for everyone, especially parents:

Do not break the magic of Christmas. Regardless of reasons, keep the magic alive. Breaking it, removes hope, breaks the innocence of faith in something more, whatever that may be.

Regardless of whether you celebrate Christmas or not, whether for you it’s more about gifts and less about the nativity story, or vice versa, keep the magic going. Keep it alive at all cost. Magic is not a bad word, magic is anything you want it to be. People need something to look forward to, people need something more, even if they don’t quite know what that is. Breaking the magic for a child, is emotionally crippling in ways adults will never truly understand.

In all honesty, I don’t know how to celebrate Christmas, and when people invite me over, I stopped accepting their invitation, because I feel a strange inadequacy of being part of something that I don’t know how to feel. Exactly as the Grinch or the little match girl, I watch Christmas from the outside, observing the Christmas city lights, the shopfronts, listening to the songs in the supermarket and watching the obligatory Hallmark movies, all the while wondering what my life would have been with Christmas in it.

So, to bring back some Christmas atmosphere into my life, I built my own Christmas tree.

Which brings us to The LEGO part of this unexpectedly long and winding story. Earlier in the month, I reviewed The LEGO Christmas Wreath, but another set I bought at the same time was this year’s brand new #40573 Christmas Tree set. Now that you have context, you’ll perhaps understand just how big a step this is for me.

My first Christmas Tree, after 30 years, is made of LEGO.

As I took the set off the shelf in Dublin’s recently opened LEGO shop, I felt a strange sense of both determination and relief. The former, because I felt like going against what I was wrongly taught about Christmas trees in general felt satisfying, the latter, because I realised that for the first time ever I felt the trauma of childhood just healed enough to be able to attempt to slowly start celebrating Christmas again. I fully realise this is not a “proper tree”, and perhaps there will pass plenty more years for that to happen, but for right now, this LEGO version was a big enough step for me to feel good about myself and the upcoming holidays.

For someone who is quite used to expensive sets, this one, at $45, feels surprisingly affordable. This is LEGO exclusive, so you’re unlikely to find it anywhere else. At 784 pieces it feels like decent value for money, though a bit offset by the fairly limited piece types the set comes with, the large majority of them being plates and tiles.

In terms of building experience, while I don’t mind repetitive building, as it helps me relax, there is a fair amount of it here, so keep that in mind. On the bright side, there are no stickers though, and for an entirely brick-built tree, it actually looks very good! Heck, it’s a 2-in-1 set, so if you’re on a budget, and want two trees out of it, you can totally do that, as per the instructions. I for one, went with the tall three and just built one. I think both the stand and the decorations on the tree are well-designed, and the overall look is quite tasteful. The big star at the top is also a nice touch, sitting at 30 cm high.

An additional note worth making about the set, is that while exclusive to LEGO, if you check the parts and instructions on The LEGO site, you’ll find that you might already have most if not all pieces to build it yourself. It can also act as inspiration on how to brick-build one from the pieces you have. I could easily see an all-white tree, for example, and even an all-red one with perhaps blue ornaments. Let your imagination go wild, and make some magic happen!

In the grand scheme of things, this is a small LEGO Christmas Tree, and perhaps it means a lot more to me, than many other folks out there, but I think that’s the whole point really, that we each experience The Holidays a little bit differently. We all have to find our own ways to smile through past traumas, find faith and hope in places unique to us.

Whatever the Holidays might be about for you, don’t forget to believe in something or someone, and when all else fails, don’t forget, there’s always yourself to believe in.

Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays and a successful New Year! 🎄

Attila Vago — Software Engineer improving the world one line of code at a time. Cool nerd since forever, writer of codes and blogs. Web accessibility advocate, LEGO fan, vinyl record collector. Loves craft beer! Read my Hello story here! Subscribe and/or become a member for more stories about LEGO, tech, coding and accessibility! For my less regular readers, I also write about random bits and writing.