Bonnie Bing: Here’s what the holidays are about

The holiday season brings out the best in all of us.

Oh, all right maybe not ALL of us. But being an observer of the human race I’ve decided I know the problem for those who say they hate the holidays. Stress. True, nobody enjoys stress, but those who concentrate on perfection are the ones who end up in a meltdown worse than Frosty’s.

Let’s be real. We’re not taking part in a Hallmark movie here, folks. We’re just trying to get blended families to blend, make gravy with no lumps, and prevent toddlers from tipping over the tree. Oh, and to make sure no one was left off the gift list.

That last one brings back a funny memory. I remember getting a familiar looking vase from a friend. It was in a gift sack and the vase still had a bit of water in the bottom. I had given the vase to her a couple of years earlier. I noticed it had filled with flowers before the gift exchange started. I gave it back to her the next year but at least I dried it out first.

But the holidays should be about two things. Memories and traditions. If you have those, every holiday season will be a time you look forward to.

From the time I was in the third grade until the year before my dad died at age 90, he and I went shopping for my mom’s Christmas gift. Those traditional excursions have provided me with some very fun and fond memories.

Dale, my brother — younger brother, as he is quick to point out — and I have a tradition of going to Latham every December. It is 50 miles east and 10 miles south of Wichita. We put wreaths on our mom, dad and brother’s graves.

I look forward to a few hours with my only sibling reminiscing about our many relatives who lived in the little town. We went this week and just as every year there was laughter and tears.

Now the town is mostly abandoned which makes us sad. As went by Granny’s house I realized Dale is now the only person who can share memories of summers and holidays in Latham.

We talked about our best Christmases and our worst. It was easy to remember the worst for both of us. It was the year our 16-year-old brother was gravely ill with cancer. He was lying in a hospital bed that was in our parent’s bedroom. They didn’t leave his side.

On Christmas Mom told Dale and me we could go open presents if we wanted to. He and I sat on the living room floor by ourselves. “I got a tractor and I remember it was wrapped in a big Kleenex box. I still have that tractor,” he said.

I remember being shocked when I unwrapped the fluffy pair of red slippers I had seen at Innes department store. My friend’s grandmother worked there and made arrangements for me to receive them because my mom couldn’t shop much that year.

Dale said his best Christmas was when their daughter Amy got engaged. It didn’t surprise me to hear my exuberant niece jumped on her fiancé when he was down on one knee. “She nearly broke his leg,” Dale said laughing.

I’ve simply had too many wonderful Christmases to choose a favorite.

As we chatted about the holidays in general we agreed the best part of the season is that you are happily forced to have down time with family and friends.

Forget perfection. Cherish the down time when work and worries are stored away while you make memories with people you love.

Now that’s a gift.