Where's the spirit?

Where’s the Christmas spirit? Mid-week last week I flew off to Calamba to set up my old Plexiglas tree there. The tree is 36 years old, has seen all manner of trim, with or without lights, looking like a tree or six plastic panels hanging separately. You name it, my tree has done it. It has received every type of scratch and yet — look! — she still stands tall and proud. In fact, a little edgy. She is fashionable, this tree, looks young, is appreciated by many. My writing students are scheming to have it copied for sale. “Just think,” Cocoy said, “you can put hearts on Valentine’s Day, eggs on Easter, any wild variety of décor.” I smiled, pleased that they liked it. But it didn’t bring out the Christmas spirit in me.

I had to rummage in my Makati kitchen to find the tree trims. I found the Makati trims. So the next day I spent at home setting up my version of a Christmas tree in the corner of my dining room. I love decorating homes so that made me happy, but it didn’t give me the spirit either. Christmas? Bah, humbug! Something in me growled. Maybe it’s because the occasion has gotten so commercial. Or maybe it’s because I have grown so old.

I’m in my 60s. What have I learned about being 60? It’s the time when suddenly you begin to youthen, as Merlin said in Camelot. You feel like a teenager again. I do, anyway. You laugh again. You run into your old friends. I even had drinks with a cousin I last saw in 1959. Since I don’t live with a husband or my children, no one reminds me that I have grown old. What was Christmas like when I was a teenager? My neighbor sent me a teddy bear. I got a thrill out of that, except I did not return his sentiments. I guess I had some Christmas spirit when I was a teenager but it left no memories.

So where’s the spirit? Is it in one of the boxes I’ve wrapped? No, nada, nothing. Last Sunday at Lily Pad we had Lester Demetillo, outstanding guitarist, as one of our guests. His wife, Keiko, brought his guitar and asked him to play after lunch. He played two English carols but ended beautifully, singing, “Pasko na, sinta ko, hanap-hanap kita, bakit ka nagtampo, iniwan ako? Kung mawawala ka sa piling ko, sinta, paano ang Pasko, inulila mo? Sayang, sinta, ang sinumpaan at pagtitinginang tunay. Nais mo bang kalimutang ganap ang ating suyuan at galak? Kung mawawala ka sa piling ko sinta, paano ang Paskong alay ko sa iyo?” 

This is an old Filipino Christmas carol composed by a Filipino, “lyrics by Aurelio Estanislao,” Lester said. Suddenly, Rely Estanislao popped into my head. He was a friend of my father-in-law, a long time ago when I was a young bride. I remember meeting him at the Conservatory. Rely would talk to me. He was, I think, in his 50s then and I was in my very early 20s. He was a charming man, always smiling and laughing. These lyrics are so beautiful, simple, sad, sung by the man whose beloved disappeared around Christmastime and now he sings looking for her.

It’s a lament, melancholic, lovely, in danger of bringing tears to my eyes. It also brought back memories of rainy afternoons in my in-law’s house in UP when I would fall asleep after lunch and be awakened by my father-in-law playing the violin. I wanted to keep the memories, melancholic but alive.

I brought home my feeling from the song. I asked myself — who am I looking for this Christmas? No one. I have never had a magical Christmas celebration with a beloved. If one was around he was usually indifferent, nagging or snoring. I have cherished Christmas memories spent with family but never with a beloved. But even if I did, would I have Christmas spirit now? I very much doubt it.

So what will I do? On Sunday, finally, I will sell at the Legazpi Market again hoping for a rush of shoppers who want to buy things to give away at an uncrowded place. I will be sitting at my stall hopefully selling my anting-antings. There is also a new product around called Postres del Cielo. It is polvoron but flavored with kiwi, cranberry, rose and lavender. I tried it last Sunday when I stopped by to shop for a bit of food. It is delicious. I think I will buy a few to give away. Will all this give me the Christmas spirit? No such luck.

Maybe I have to wait until the eleventh hour.

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