Downtown Cleveland Nostalgia

Courtesy of Life Magazine and
Cleveland Memory Project

Since I was a young, I've had a soft spot for eras long past.  Especially the 1940's and 1950's.  Perhaps it was being raised on Pleasant Company's American Girl Dolls (sorry, Mattel, it just isn't the same since you bought the doll line).  Or maybe it was my affinity for pearls and housekeeping.  Whatever the reason, every so often I will get an ache in the pit of my stomach and a feeling of all encompassing sadness for the fact that I will never experience "simpler times".  It passes quickly; however, I realized early on that this isn't a response most people have.


The holidays seem to bring on this unjustified nostalgia.  The cocktail of classic Christmas movies, Rat Pack music, and sharing memories cause it to rush over me like a tidal wave.  The other day, while randomly surfing the web, I came across a documentary that made me so desperately want to find a Delorian and travel back in time.  Cleveland's PBS station (WVIZ) apparently made a special called The Way We Shopped years ago and I found it on YouTube.  The hour long special takes viewers back to the golden age of shopping in Downtown Cleveland: Higbee's, May Company, Sterling Lindner, and Halle's.  The talk of dressing up in your best to be seen Downtown, uniformed elevator operators, and the famous Sterling Christmas Tree put me in awe.  I now officially declare that I hate shopping malls and the 1960's and 1970's urban sprawl that ruined it for everyone.

Courtesy of CSU Digital Library

If the idea of wearing your hat and gloves out on the town puts a slight smile on your face, I suggest checking out this special.  It transports you to a time when Christmas window displays were a quarter of a million dollars of a store's annual budget.  The stories remind you that no one had heard of "customer service" because it didn't need a name: it was simply implied.  Stores were closed on Sundays and shopping was as much a community experience as it was an errand.


Who wants to grab a penny for the streetcar to Public Square and eat lunch at the Silver Grille after an afternoon of last minute Christmas shopping?



Courtesy of the Cleveland Memory Project
http://images.ulib.csuohio.edu/u?/press,180

Do You Hear the Bell?



Christmas was not just a holiday in my house growing up: it was an institution, a frame of mind, and an over-the-top experience.



2012's Christmas Tree.

Growing up in a red-shuttered colonial in an idyllic suburb, our home turned into a Norman Rockwell when the weather would begin its chilly nosedive. My Mom was the main driver of this "real life snow globe" experience. Rules like "white lights outside, colored lights inside", "only play in the snow in the backyard", and "only the ugly cookies can be eaten by the family prior to Christmas Eve" can give you a small glimpse into the attention to detail my Mom had for creating the perfect atmosphere. It may sound a bit crazy, but it worked. To use a Polar Express reference, there was never a Christmas where I couldn't hear the ringing of Santa's sleigh bell.



I've made crazy rules now, too:
the angel is always last.

Now that I am an adult and living away from all other family members, it falls to me to create a holiday atmosphere for myself while working full time on a "still at the start of my career" salary. I have found what helps most for me are classic holiday movies, music, and family traditions. Nothing can get me out of a Scrooge state of mind like Frosty the Snowman (preferably the VHS from my childhood that also has the 1990 commercials recorded on it), Mannheim Steamroller, and hanging the ornaments on the felt advent calendar my Mom made decades ago. These comforts get me my Christmas mojo back just enough to take on bigger tasks like making my family's favorite caramel swirled chocolate covered pretzels, knitting presents, and decorating my tree.

These things are addicting.

I had a rocky start, but I think I'm there now- I can hear the bell. Can you?