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Christmas Comes To Jacksonville

The Source

There’s something disturbingly ironic about standing in front of display of Bud Lite six packs adorned by the sign “Christmas Special,” with “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen” playing over the store’s loudspeaker system. It makes one wonder what had made the gentlemen so merry and why perhaps they need a good rest. This is the first Christmas that I’ve really paid attention to how the season is celebrated in Jacksonville. I was living in the town last Christmas but I guess I was too busy unpacking to notice the goings-on of the holiday season. Most noticeable among the town’s yuletide traditions is food. Is there a day goes by that doesn’t include some church’s bazaar, brunch, lunch, cookie walk, or chili supper? A person could get ecumenically overweight if he took advantage of every meal or dessert offered by our local churches in December. ‘Tis the season of “Oh Come All Ye Plateful.” And surely the most noticeable sign of the celebration occurs when the sun goes down and the Christmas lights come up. Unless I’m way off base I swear that the number of Christmas-lit houses is increasing, and I think this quite remarkable when you consider the fact that Jacksonville’s population is aging. You would think that the bulk of the decorations would be low to the ground and easily accessible from walkers and canes, but such is not the case. On any given evening you can cruise down any of the town’s thoroughfares and you’ll be bathed in yuletide glow. For reasons known only to perhaps Mayor Andy Ezard and Ameren Illinois, the predominant color in Jacksonville proper seems to be blue while South Jacksonville leans more in the red direction. I don’t think there’s a political reason for this or the entire town would glow crimson. And gone are the days when a family would proclaim the holidays with a simply strand of lights around the porch and front door. Some of these local folks have taken a cue from Disney World, and you can literally see their high-wattage display from the distance of several blocks. And in recent years a new twist has been added to the house decorating scheme with the invention of rope lighting, Icicle lights, micro lights, and most startling of all, the projectors that bathe the owner’s house in a mind-numbing rotating pattern of rockets or snowflakes or God-knows-what. This last refinement in house decorating often causes me to suffer a bit of a flashback since I’m a child of the sixties. They’re reminiscent of the Beatles trip to India or the two strange guys who lived at the far end of my floor in the IC dorm and who seldom came out of their room. It’s groovy, man. If our town is known for anything, it’s a variety of entertainment. Whether your taste goes to the symphony at Christmas or a local country band crooning out “Blue Christmas” in a local tavern, there’s something to tickle your musical taste. Every church seems to hold its own Christmas program, and the schools fill up the family schedule with trips to this concert and that. This year MacMurray even reinstated its age-old tradition of hosting a madrigal dinner and IC held forth with its own Christmas concert. And any resident of a retirement home will attest to the fact that the holidays are prime time for bands of traveling singers from the local public schools and churches. I’ve yet to see much house-to-house caroling like in the good old days, but perhaps the local vocalists have opted for comfort over nostalgia. But in general, you name it and this town will sing it. One nearby town still carries on the tradition of loading singers into a horse-drawn wagon and cruising the village’s four streets singing at the top of their lungs to the beat of the horse’s clip-clop rhythm. Jacksonville can easily be forgiven for not holding to this tradition since the traffic on Morton Avenue after dark is probably not conducive to singing or friendly to the nerves of horses. But perhaps some of the town’s sweetest gestures have nothing to do with food, electric lights or carolers. This week I was topping off my gas tank at the Casey’s on Walnut and at the pump beside me was a teenage boy carefully filling his tank, one handle squeeze at a time. It was plain that he only had so many bucks in his pocket. He finally clicked off the pump at eighteen dollars then proceeded toward the store to pay his bill. Just as he was about to enter, a lady met him at the door and said, “I got your gas.” The boy said, “Wow. Thanks, Mom!” She answered, “Merry Christmas. Now be safe.” The boy was still sputtering a bit in amazement and gratitude and again he said, “Thanks, Mom!” I’ll take that over a special on Bud Lite any day.