Remembering Christmas Gifts With Staying Power
A vintage Elvis Presley ornament leads to reflections on Christmases past, present and future
In early December, as the seasonal cards began trickling in, my vintage 1977 Elvis Presley memorial Christmas ornament found its way to the mantel where all the pretty pictures are displayed.
Above the fireplace, beneath a mirror, it assumed its role as a kind of honorary centerpiece amid the festive lights and uplifting images of rustic winter scenery, cardinals in holly bushes and dogs wearing Santa Claus hats.
Once the Elvis orb was properly positioned on its crystal stand, I stared into The King’s eyes and asked myself a question:
Have I kept any other Christmas presents longer than I’ve kept this one?
I did not know the answer right away, even though I was reasonably sure my most enduring Christmas present was right there in front of me. Being a copy editor by profession and thus possessing above-average loyalty to the idea of accuracy, I felt the magnitude of the question called for at least a cursory mental inventory.
My curious and admittedly nostalgic mind thought back to some of the many Christmas presents I have received over the years.
Did I still have my trusty Johnny West doll with its cowboy accessories, tucked away in a box inside a box in a closet packed with still more boxes?
Negative on that one.
Did I still have my copy of Presley’s “Burning Love” LP, given to me in ’72 by the same sister who later gave me the ornament?
Sadly, no.
What about the Hardy Boys books I used to devour like blue, hardback candy in some mad boyhood quest to read every title in the series?
Another no.
The more I thought of presents from the past, the more I enjoyed the memories.
A Bozo the Clown bop bag, Rock ’Em Sock ’Em Robots, cap guns. An electric football game that emitted an unsettling low-frequency hum as the little toy players struggled with even the most basic movements; more fell from the constant buzz-rattle of the metal gridiron underfoot than from sustaining a hit.
A pet rock, a mood ring, an embroidered shirt.
A skateboard, Converse All Stars, a high-end outdoor basketball I managed to keep for a decade or more before someone stole it from the bed of a friend’s pickup.
Predictably, the orange banana-seat bike from the early ’70s rolled by on Memory Lane, as did the motocross-style bicycle that took its place later in the decade.
My recollections turned to board games, decks of cards, even two shots of white lightning someone gave me one Christmas Eve in the mid-1990s.
Despite the strength of that holiday hooch and the punch all those other presents packed at the time, I emerged from my memory-wandering fully confident in affirming the Elvis ornament as my Christmas gift with the most staying power.
Even upon receiving the ornament as a teenager, I recognized its significance.
My sister was and still is a dedicated Elvis Presley fan; she was fortunate enough to see him work his concert magic on multiple occasions.
I have a memory of dancing with her in the late 1960s as “His Latest Flame” played on her portable record-player. In the1990s, her son took her to Memphis so she could grace the grounds of Graceland in an enjoyable fusion of dutiful pilgrimage and heartfelt homage.
For me, the ornament symbolizes fun and laughter shared with my sister over the years, as well as all the musical gifts Elvis gave the world in his much-too-short life.
The more I thought about the ornament and other gifts I’ve received, the more I wondered what friends and family members would say when asked about Christmas presents from days gone by that still hold significance for them.
Gifts that evoke the Christmas Spirit
For my 51-year-old nephew who took his mother to Graceland in the late 20th century, what endures isn’t a particular gift but something he used to see every time he visited his grandparents’ house during the holidays.
Since that house was also where I lived for the first 20 years of my life, I remember it, too. He was referring to the humble, hard-plastic Nativity scene that had a home under so many of the Christmas trees from my childhood and teenage years. My sister, who had asked our mother for it when our parents got too old to safely put up a tree, passed it along to him several years ago.
What it lacks in grandeur it makes up for in its ability to evoke the Christmas spirit. My nephew said he and his family still display it every year and take great care in storing it when the holiday decorations are packed away.
A friend in her early 60s received a tape player from her parents when she was about 10. Her grandfather gave her a tape of “How Great Thou Art” to go with it. She played the tape repeatedly, eventually wearing it out. The tape player and tape are no longer part of her physical world, but she told me the energetic imprint left on her remains to this day.
Another friend in her 50s cited a sweater she received from her father as her most enduring Christmas gift, even though she only received it two years ago. She’s worn it hundreds of times while working from home and sheltering in place.
The pandemic is not permanent
While it can be hard to fathom now, our current shelter-in-place way of life is not going to last forever. One day, maybe even by Christmas 2021, the holiday season will once again be about getting together to celebrate with family and friends.
Sharing good times in large groups will no longer involve anxiety about spreading or contracting a potentially life-threatening sickness; forgetting to put on a mask will no longer lead to the abrupt onset of panic.
Imagine instead a Christmas where family and friends — and maybe even a couple dogs in Santa hats — gather to have a good time.
No one is worried about running afoul of health advisories; indeed, the whole mood feels health-enhancing.
Hugs are exchanged freely, carolers sing without covering their faces, and good food and drink are abundant for all to share — even though they’re sitting less than six feet apart while eating Christmas dinner.
As it was before, so shall it be again.
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