A Christmas/happy holiday message for you all:

Hannah always knew how to shop. When she was, oh, 3 or so we would occasionally at her behest divert from our drive back to our home on west 94th street to a Toys R Us she would spy from her rocket seat in the back of our red 1985 Jetta. In the store, she’d guide us – she was a leader even then – up and down the aisles, pausing to consider a purchase and eventually rejecting any idea other than a new Barbie doll. We taught her to “touch not take” and she’d do just that. Mulling over each doll as if she were adopting her next best friend. Finally she’d find the right choice and on came those eyes. I’m still not any good at resisting those eyes. Yes, we can buy it, I’d tell her, often over Mary’s far more sensible objections. Yes, but you have to split the cost with me, I told her. And she would agree.

On to home and into her little bedroom where on her shelf sat the little green Simba bank, the Lion King character inside of whom was kept her riches of pennies, nickels, dimes and, occasionally, quarters. I’d pop open the bottom of the Simba bank and pour some of the coins onto her IKEA bed and I’d tell her, ok, give me half of the cost of your new Barbie. I loved this part. Hannah would consider the coins for a minute or two and then very deliberately pick out the coins that to her represented half of the cost of the new Barbie. Maybe 4 pennies, a nickel, two dimes and if she was very very bold, one of the big quarters but rarely the one with the brightest shine.

I’d ask her if this was half. Yes, she’d say with great conviction. Is this fair? She’d assure me it was. And then I got my gift, two little arms wrapped around my neck, an I love you daddy, and a princess kiss (that was her name for it).

Last weekend, with Clare and Frankie, Mary and I had the pleasure of attending the annual Christmas (ok… Holiday) concert at Kimmel Center put on by the Philadelphia Symphony. At the conclusion, Maestro Wilkins, who had just delivered with the help of his amazing musicians and the soprano Alison Buchanan a wonderful evening of Christmas music, thanked us all for coming and then asked us to remember something. He said in this year during which some of the dialogue was disturbing and the events reported to us from the world horrific, that we not stop at giving one another’s gifts of cookies, wine and Barbies, but that we give each other the gift of our selves. His words sent me back to that little bedroom on west 94th street and Hannah’s little arms and how all of our children and how children all over the world give us the gift of themselves and, maybe as important, the gift of hope.

The Collinzes plus one (hi, Peter) wish you all the gift of little arms and hope this Christmas season. Everyone, everywhere can stand for a little more love and hope and small kindnesses. May you find it if not under your tree, then tightly wrapped around your necks. And if not from children, then from each other. We wish wonderful hugs to you all.