The Old Days
Time flew by — my time — when no one wanted a “pretty Christmas to show off,” but rather a Christmas lived in a different way. It didn’t need to be Instagrammable.
Homes were filled with handmade silver ribbons — which shone almost like aluminum foil, because they really were aluminum foil — and with a nativity scene that came to life with moss gathered from the fields, that smell of wet earth treated like a relic and then returned to nature. It was there, in that tuft of filideo — what I know today! — that the figures of the nativity multiplied every year.
And of course, there was always a real pine tree — like the moss, later returned to its origin — with a fresh, slightly citrusy aroma. Both filled the house with the scent of the forest, inspiring the comforting spirit of Christmas. Simply.
Christmas communication was different too. There were no instant messages or emojis: there were handwritten letters to Baby Jesus, sent with hope and taking weeks to arrive — so they were written early, at the beginning of December, enough time to regret three times what we had asked for.
And the cards! Those went or came by the postman — full of affection, phrases with drawn bows, and a slight perfume that made them even more special.
And then, of course… the presents. There wasn’t that shower of wrapped gifts that today appears under the tree. There was one gift. A single one. The one. The chosen one. The awaited one. The one that arrived there, next to the polished shoe placed under the chimney — strategically centered — on the night of the 24th, before going to bed, so well aligned that even Baby Jesus, up above, would think: “Now this is a pleasure to deliver.”
Christmas 2.0
But meanwhile… other times arrived and, with them, a Christmas updated to version 2.0.
Homes are no longer lit by that stubborn little light that blinked until half the tree burned out; now they’re LED lights controlled by an app that change color to the rhythm of Christmas playlists. Just a tap on the screen turns the living room into “Silent Night” or creates artificial snow in a two-bedroom apartment.
And the trees? Few dare to risk a natural pine when there’s an “artificial, cat-proof” version capable of surviving feline climbs, ninja jumps, and surprise attacks on red ornaments.
Communication also gained new sparkle. The postman stopped bringing perfumed cards and gave way to WhatsApp, which in December turns into a digital fair of reindeer, dancing Santas, and voice messages sent by someone who never seems sober enough to speak clearly.
The long letters to Baby Jesus were replaced by video calls with “Uncle Zé,” who sometimes appears pixelated, but with a full heart. And, of course, gift lists are no longer hidden in a drawer: they’re shared, commented on, and edited as if they were work reports.
And as for the presents… well, those evolved too. Where there was once a single one, now there are drones, consoles, gadgets, and even boxes that blink before they’re opened.
And if someone forgot or didn’t have the chance to take advantage of Black Friday? No problem: just make an online purchase on the 24th itself — between dessert and coffee — and the magic of “we deliver today” takes care of everything.
It almost seems like a miracle… except it’s done by couriers who arrive wearing fluorescent helmets that hide their tiredness, origin, and gender, but who serve us with dedication even on Christmas night. And there are many others like them.
Magic and Reality
The magic of the old days had a special flavor, a mix of innocence and naivety that today’s technology quickly demystifies.
It almost went unnoticed at the time, but there was a Christmas when childhood magic suffered its first crack: years later, I discovered it wasn’t Baby Jesus who brought the presents.
I remember the day my world almost collapsed: reality appeared in my parents’ bedroom on Christmas Eve, when I saw a wrapped gift in the wardrobe. And it was that same package that appeared in my shoe on the morning of the 25th.
I was certain it was Baby Jesus who brought the presents, and then I doubted and began to question. My mother, in an attempt to save my faith, corrected me: “No, it’s the Three Wise Men! Because Baby Jesus can’t reach so many houses at the same time.”
Today, we know that Santa Claus has a powerful distribution network…
But back then, it was a friction-powered police car, a VW Beetle — that car I wanted so badly — with a siren that made an infernal noise, and which my father, I only discovered years later, deliberately silenced after one day to save the household’s mental sanity.
And I, no longer traumatized by discovering how the car had reached my shoe, also got used to playing without friction and without noise.
Social Message
Perhaps that’s what we need today: to switch off the “social sirens,” reduce friction, and lower the noise of comparisons and unrealistic expectations.
May Christmas be prolonged and be about paying attention to others, respecting differences, empathy, and genuine joy.
Christmas has no defined color or gender, just as the world belongs to everyone. May social friction decrease, giving way to sharing, lightness, and solidarity.
May every person, in any corner of the world, experience peace and magic without interference, without sirens, without friction.
May the MAGIC of CHILDHOOD never end!
Leave a Comment: