By Scott MacKeen
Staff Writer
12/2/10
We all have that special vision of Christmas and the holidays in our heads.

I can remember on many a Christmas Eve night squirming around in bed with excitement, just envisioning the shiny, colorful packages waiting under the tree for me to tear into.

In fact, we had five boys growing up under the same roof, so you could imagine the scene on Christmas morning – in all our glory, each of us knee-deep in wrapping paper, goring on our spoils from jolly old St. Nick.

Believe me, back then, I was a huge subscriber to the you-can-never-have-too-many-presents mentality. My birthday falls less than two months before Christmas, and I always considered that as a bonus as a kid. To my young boy’s mind, that meant there was little lag time from one present-receiving event to the next. I wrote out my birthday and Christmas “wish” lists with fearful abandon, always with more items than my parents could possibly hope to afford.

However, I’ve found that a funny thing happens as I have grown and matured. I’ve come to appreciate things for different reasons.

I still love Christmas. It rekindles those old feelings of youthful excitement. And yes, presents are nice.

But more and more, I find myself thinking of that old cliché that our parents always used to use. You know the one: “It’s the thought that counts.”

I don’t know. Maybe it’s that I’m older now and that – unlike as a kid – I’m able to buy the things I want or need. But I don’t think that’s the whole of it.

The same care and diligence with which I once formulated my own wish lists I now find myself dedicating to compiling lists of presents to buy for family.

It’s the thought that counts, indeed.

It’s rare now for all of us to get together under one roof anymore. Our busy lives and schedules prevent it. More than anything now, I enjoy seeing my family on Christmas – and not receiving presents, but giving them, and seeing the positive reaction to a well-planned, well-thought-out gift.

Honestly, I can’t remember what I got for Christmas when I was 10 or 11 or 12. But I remember the times we went as a family to pick out a tree. It was the same place each year, our traditional spot near our house. I remember the place because of how big it was. It was a wide expanse of land, a mix of ready-to-be sold trees and growing baby ones.

It wasn’t so much the tree we ended up with that was important, but the fun we had. We used that place as our winter playground (many of our best family Christmas cards came out of those tree-buying excursions.)

And I remember us gathering every Christmas Eve, eating and opening presents together, and then gathering to sing while Uncle Randy played guitar.

Things change, as do circumstances. We haven’t done those family Christmas songs in a few years now. People grow a little older, health issues arise, and the whole family isn’t able to make the trip out they way they used to.