"I remember events thrown in the elementary school gymnasium, or by the local police department, where I and certain kids from my neighborhood received gifts from Santa."”

NEDERLAND — I remember the first time hearing the band Everclear’s hit song “I Will Buy You a New Life,” released back in 1997. The song deals with the heavy reality of growing up poor around so much excess, of being surrounded by reminders of wealth disparity and of the songwriter’s place on that spectrum, and of the desperation in wanting to change that reality.  

“I hate those people who love to tell you

Money is the root of all that kills 

They have never been poor 

They have never known the joy of a welfare Christmas.” 

Hearing those words for the first time hit me a certain way. As a teenager, it was impossible not to notice the brand new student-driven Jettas and Range Rovers blowing past me as I walked to school every morning, or the side-eye I would get from security guards as I walked past gated communities. After all, I was a Bradlee’s kid, not an Abercrombie & Fitch kid, and my small town community wouldn’t let me forget that. 

But despite the disparity being so obvious, I had never really analyzed the family holidays of my past in a financial sense. I never considered that most families don’t have McDonald’s for Christmas dinner, or that other teenagers weren’t also restricted to receiving just one present because they were “too old for childish things.” 

Hearing that song and those lyrics resonated with me because, even though I was well aware of the neon sign above our house that flashed “POOR,” I had chosen to be in denial about that during the holidays, especially when I was a little kid. Because for a few months out of the year, I just wanted to be a kid. 

I wanted to be awash in shining, shimmering commercialism; to come down the stairs to a smiling, loving family surrounding the Christmas tree, a pile of presents waiting to be torn open in a torrent of sugar-fueled glee. 

But, in our household, the days leading up to Christmas were filled with so much stress and anxiety that the day itself felt like a chore to get through. My parents’ fights about money would become so intense that my grandmother would take me out of the house and distract me with a drive through the rich neighborhoods to look at the lights.

Every year the neighbors’ displays would become more extravagant, while our house just appeared more bleak.

My welfare Christmases growing up weren’t always desperate. Though I remember times of disappointment, when I didn’t get some new, hot item—something that everyone wanted, that all the kids in school were going to be bragging about having—what I cherish now, in my adult life, is the knowledge that there were people, either directly or indirectly involved in my life, who tried to make Christmas magical. 

I remember those trips in my grandmother’s car to see the Christmas lights, but I don’t remember the fights that she was shielding me from.

I remember events thrown in the elementary school gymnasium, or by the local police department, where I and certain kids from my neighborhood received gifts from Santa. I don’t associate these memories with the fact that we were the poor kids getting a handout. What I remember is sharing the excitement of these gifts with my friends and peers. What I remember is getting to be a kid. 

As I grew from a poor child, a broke teenager, to a far-from-wealthy adult and stepfather, I decided to never argue or fight about money. I would never lie about the struggle, but I vowed to never let that struggle become a core memory for my family, to be the thing they associated their holidays to. 

This type of guardianship of holiday magic was instilled in me by those loved ones and those complete strangers who worked selflessly in the background, not just for me, but for all the kids who deserved to have a merry Christmas. I can only thank them by honoring them and carrying forth their tradition. 

And I thank all those here in the Peak to Peak area who also carry this tradition, and who volunteer selflessly to serve those in need.

To all those who helped the Nederland Food Pantry box and hand out food at the Holiday Distribution Drive on Saturday, December 13; to all those who donated clothes to the Clothing Closet and organized a table for kids to Christmas shop for gifts for their parents; to all those who donated toys so that parents could provide their kids with a happy holiday; to all those who helped to wrap those toys and gifts into festive works of art.

To all the organizers from Peak Abundance, the Nederland Community Library, and the Emergency Family Assistance Association, who put together such a great event: a very heartfelt thanks and Happy Holidays to you all.

Thank you for making magic happen.