When songs of sleigh bells began to fill the air, I was one of those excited kids who used to join a group of carolers in the neighborhood because I wanted to have more friends. Caroling that time wasn't about money. It was about friends making merriment with friends. After caroling brigades, I recall going home happily, sleeping right away, not even caring to count the coins I got from the night's fun.
Then, I remember my parents helping me out hang a stocking on our door days before the 25th. How a nice boy patiently waited for the big morning after the Christmas evening when that white dude called Santa Clause had secretly inserted goodies in the stocking. I have no regrets over the discovery later about such "foolishness" as others call it. For me, it is not the gifts inside the stocking that counts; its the spirit.
And who can still recall those indigenous cannons made of big bamboo and operated by the big boys of the time? We used to compete for the loudest explosion by group and laughed at the softest fart when it did not work. It is truly a way safer and merrier thing than the latest crackers today. I just wish somebody can bring back in town that sort of happy noise.
On this very 1st day of December, let a then nice boy and now nostalgic man bring good tidings to your hearts. Merry Christmas, everyone! Hohohoho!
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