Christmas Eve draws near and with it, for me at least, come memories of the years when as family we gathered in anticipation of the coming glorious Morn - of Christmas Day.

Today, we mostly give gift cards – ‘so you can get what you want’ - but there’s something missing in that: the choice, the appropriate gift, the ‘you know me’ response. We even make gifts, in some instances, to show we took time, we really care, we REALLY know you.

I confess I’m a sucker for nostalgia, for memories of wondrous times past. I think we spend a fair chunk of life trying to relive, to re-find the experiences and wonders of what was an as-yet unsullied childhood. And I know that not everyone’s childhood was so evocative, so unsullied, so wonderful. I’m grateful that mine was (I suppose I should add, to be honest – for the most part, not that I have anything in mind to the contrary as I write).

The attending video images on this page are like living memories of a ‘Christmas Ideals’ book – of places, moods and experiences that seldom, if ever, existed or now exist. But we try to capture them as if they did, they do, or they should. 'Maybe we can create the perfect memory for our own kids or grandchildren.' Maybe, as an extension, we can make a perfect world, the utopia no one's quite yet managed. In fact, mostly we’re still messing up the good creation into which, by sheer grace, we were born.

But there’s still something wondrously evocative – for me at least, in these sights and sites: the red and green, the tinsel, the holly and berry, the tannenbaum, the candles, the nick-nacks so carefully labelled and put away till next year; the stupidly funny additions we made as kids, the Christmas troll as well as the Christmas angel.

Every family has its own rituals and traditions, even if they're broken and wierd. They become uniquely precious to us and ours. We (must) repeat them time after time, year after year, whether with or without thought, traditions helpful or not-so-much. In some ways we're awfully stuck; in others, wonderfully stuck.

I think something’s lost in newness, even when we're bored and want things new. I think something’s lost in the forgetting that comes with aging. And maybe rituals help us remember – remember, hope-fully, joy-fully, lovingly. In ways still that can make a positive difference in ourselves, our families, in our world.

Least, I hope so.