Louise T. Guinther

When my sister and I were kids, my parents used to take us on an annual pre-Christmas pilgrimage to Yorkville, where the essential stops included the Elk Candy Company (for spitzkuchen, kringels and nougat-filled chocolate pinecones, among other heavenly confections); the Kleine Konditerei (for meringues); Kramer’s Pastries (for stollen) and the Bremen House (for all manner of delicacies). Then there was the German News Company, which had imported recordings of Christmas music, among other things, and newspapers, Christmas cards and gift tags in German and English. (Fröhliche Weinachten, everybody!)

It also had advent calendars —lovely ones with beautiful nativity scenes and scripture passages in the windows, or glittery woodland snowscapes with tiny pictures of dolls and lebkuchen and pretzels. The daily ritual of opening the windows was something to look forward to on a dreary winter day. It was also a little reminder of the big day we were waiting for at the end of the month. Even when the images in the windows were secular, there was something spiritual and devotional about the practice, a brief respite from the shopping, package-wrapping and cookie-baking to think about what all the celebrations were really about.

A while back, I first became aware of the chocolate advent calendar, which replaced that moment of spiritual reflection with a moment of gluttony—no scripture passages necessary. Nowadays, if you Google “advent calendar,” you can get a “lit glitter houses” version for $89 (!), with spaces for 24 little presents (not included). You can also get a “12-day advent calendar” (say what??) containing anything from Sephora cosmetics to Macy’s “12 days of scent for him.” (I guess someone got confused somewhere along the line between the 24 days of advent and the 12 days of Christmas, which aren’t supposed to start until December 25.) Then there’s Williams Sonoma’s $199 “luxury” version, filled with “gifts for the cook.”

Considering that every shop in town has been filled with Christmas decor and cheesy, religion-free holiday songs since just after Halloween, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised to discover that the advent calendar has become yet another tool to start the commercialism early. (Yes, I know I sound like a cross between Ebenezer Scrooge and Charlie Brown.) But I’m happy to report that for those of us longing for simpler times, Amazon will still sell you a plain old paper advent calendar for a mere $5.49 (and up). Hint: try typing in “glitter advent calendar” to skip past the swaggy ones.

As for me, I don’t need anything tangible when I open my daily window. The gifts of anticipation, nostalgia and wonder are quite enough.