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The Ruttle Report - Holiday meaning changes with age

"There are so many cherished memories that have come through the years, ones that I'll hold dear with me until the day I leave this earth." - The Ruttle Report
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I love Christmas. Truly, I do.

There are so many cherished memories that have come through the years, ones that I'll hold dear with me until the day I leave this earth.

But one thing I learned a long time ago might be a little life lesson for perhaps my younger readers, of which I'm told there are many, apparently.

When you're young and it's Christmas time, it's about one thing and one thing only as far as you're concerned - the presents. The meticulously wrapped gifts of all shapes and sizes, holding their mysterious contents within, and aside from those, there's even your stocking, which I'm sure is filled to the brim with all sorts of goodies. That new video game system? Awesome, Santa didn't disappoint! Hook it up and let's play! That new sled or toboggan from Mom and Dad? Sweet, let's head to the hills right now!

But when you get older and the holiday season starts to come around for the year, it becomes less and less about the presents and more and more about one thing and one thing only - time. Time spent with loved ones, time spent playing games, time spent cooking in the kitchen, time spent dining around the table, time spent pouring drinks and handing them out, and of course, time spent gathering everyone around and getting them to pose for the big family photo before the camera goes off.

Time. It's the one thing of which I'd give my right arm for more.

When you go through the years and you wheel through the ages, you start to see the point when you stopped putting so much emphasis on presents and started putting more and more attention on just having an unforgettable Christmas season.

That's not to say there aren't some memorable years where gifts were the central part of the holiday. Certainly, there are a few that I can remember off the top of my head, and those memories stay near and dear to me even all these years later.

I remember waking up early on Christmas Day in 1992 when I was seven years old, and I can still remember the big box laying directly underneath the tree, wrapped in red paper and labeled, 'To the Ruttle Boys, Merry Christmas, From Santa!' My brothers and I opened it up, and what was inside but a Nintendo video game system, complete with Super Mario Bros. and Duck Hunt, including the gun controller. We were absolutely ecstatic, bouncing off the walls happy. I'm pretty sure Alice from next door and Irene from across the street heard our howls of happiness that morning. We got the game hooked up, and it wasn't long before we even convinced Dad to give Duck Hunt a whirl. Try as he did, ole Jack just couldn't land a virtual bullet into one of those flying quackers, and that digital dog kept popping up and laughing at him.

"Well, can I shoot the dog?" asked Dad with only half a grin.

I remember the angelic white conditions of the street and the neighborhood on Christmas morning in 1999. It was one of those 'Holiday Village' scenes that looked perfect for shooting photos for a Sears catalogue, I can remember. I woke up and looked under the tree, agog at all the gifts under it, but I also couldn't help but notice that there weren't any large, drum-shaped packages there either. You see, weeks earlier, I was with my mom on a day of running errands in Saskatoon and we had to pop in to Long & McQuade, the musical instrument store, so that she could either pay a bill or pick up an instrument for my brother Perry. I had some time to kill, so I wandered around the store. It wasn't long before I found a drum set, complete with sticks just sitting there that practically begged me to give this thing a whirl. And whirl I did, as I remembered how a few Metallica or AC/DC songs sounded and did my best to emulate them. Well, evidently, my mom noticed all of this.

I didn't get my drums for Christmas that year, or so I thought. Mom requested that I go with her over to a neighbour's house to pick up a few things, which I thought was a little bizarre because it was Christmas morning, but lo and behold, once I walked into Ken Blixt's house, I saw my drum set sticking out of one of his spare bedrooms. I was blown away, and my mom was elated to see the excitement on my face. I was a drummer, and I enjoyed it for years after that Christmas morning.

When we fast forward though, many years later, I remember possibly the greatest Christmas my family ever had up at Candle Lake in 2018. The surroundings, the wintery setting, the houses, the environment, the wildlife, and that dark & silent atmosphere that you can only get in the North; it all made for a picture-perfect holiday setting. I can't even remember one thing that I got as gift that year because the experience WAS the gift from all of us to ourselves, and the look of pure satisfaction on my mom's face is something that I'll always cherish. That one was for you, Mom.

Of course, no matter how many years have passed or how many other Christmases were memorable and enjoyable, my favorite memory comes from 1995 when I was 10 years old. Once again, this doesn't even involve a gift because, well, I didn't get one. Well, let me be clear, I didn't get one until maybe a month and a half after Christmas had come and gone. My brother Jim had come home from Calgary and handed gifts to my brothers Perry and Brendon, but he told me that mine would have to wait because he was still working on it. I told him 'No problem' and went back in the living room to watch my wrestling tape. I was a few minutes into the next match when I heard my dad get up from the kitchen table and excuse himself to the washroom. The only thing is, he didn't go to the washroom, at least not right away. He sauntered over to me, as quietly as he could, knelt down next to me, and proceeded to tell me what Jim was preparing to send me. Dad thought that if I at least knew what was coming in the mail, I had something to anticipate. He felt bad that I didn't have anything to open that night, so this was his way of 'righting a wrong', and I've remembered that moment for the last 28 years. My dad was a man's man and perhaps a bit misunderstood by some, but the truth is that he could be a big softie at times and just wanted his kids to smile at Christmas.

When I think of both Dad and Mom and the moments they gave me and my brothers at Christmas, that's just what I do every time - I smile.

For this week, that's been the Ruttle Report.

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