Sunday, December 8, was the day of the annual Marion Holiday Stroll.
The holiday stroll is a Tri-Town event that sets itself apart from the rest in a category all its own. It surpasses the other town events by its very nature; the holiday stroll is not just a town event, the holiday stroll is a true village event.
As a community journalist, I have attended the holiday stroll every year for five years and look forward to each one. As children we enjoyed years of delighting in the magic of Christmas; as adults, some of us are lucky if we can harken back to that Christmas magic vicariously through our children. At some point in life, though, we all find ourselves in the midst of a holiday season swirling around us with absolutely no desire to participate, devoid of the holiday spirit and lacking the time to even notice that Christmas is now only two weeks away.
Life is like that for grown-ups – busy during non-holidays and then double busy when one has to fit in the extra tasks of gift shopping, gift wrapping, tree trimming, light hanging, feast preparing, and party attending. For a community journalist in the Tri-Town, a weekend like this past one has us boomeranging from Rochester to Mattapoisett to Marion and then back to Mattapoisett all in one day, chasing down Santa as he has breakfast then pizza with kids in different towns, all on top of the routine meetings and goings-on that we must attend and report on. By the time Sunday afternoon came and it was time to get back to Marion for the holiday stroll, my gas tank was on ‘E’ and so was my energy.
The holiday stroll is a pretty easy event to cover, however; there are opportunities for great photos in every direction and after five holiday strolls I know just where to position myself and which direction to point my camera. I was careful to park my car outside of the zone of the stroll so I could quickly slip away when my work was done, and as my teenage son and I closed our car doors and cut across the street, I said to him, “OK, let’s get this over with.”
Straight to the Town Wharf we walked, politely excusing ourselves through the crowd to the very top of the gangway for unobstructed photos of Santa’s boat as he traversed Sippican Harbor. I ate a Tabor Academy sugar cookie while I waited. I was cold. I looked to the kids sitting and standing on the roof of a nearby shed for a signal that Santa could be spotted and my work could begin.
“There he is!” “Where?” “Oh yeah! I see him!” “Here he comes, yay!”
The children smiled and jumped and clapped and with a slight jolt of adrenaline, I squinted my eyes in the direction where the kids were pointing and focused my zoom lens on the horizon, like I do every year. And the second that fuzzy white boat with the red dot came into focus, I was overcome, like I am every year, with the sudden magic of Christmas.
For a moment I am a kid again, and I feel that expanse of emotion and imagination that I would on Christmas Eve. The anticipation of Santa’s arrival increases as the boat appears to grow in size closing in on the wharf where we all stand waving back at Santa as he waves to us. His “ho-ho-ho” carries across the water and his exclamations of “Merry Christmas!” resonate with the child in me that loved Santa Claus – a familiar and unconditional love-giving omnipresence in my life – and his ‘Merry Christmases’ felt warm and reassuring like a promise that Christmas would indeed be merry and that it was time let some of its joy in.
I was still that little girl when Santa made eye contact with me from the boat, star-struck like the rest of the kids on dry land. Meanwhile, I am watching most of it unfold through my camera lens that followed Santa’s every step up the gangway and into the arms of an exalting crowd. Now I’m an adult again, busy at work trailing Santa like the paparazzi and pressed to make my way through the people to get ahead of the horse and carriage before it departs up to Front Street carrying Santa and a carriage full of lucky kids.
As I do every year, I take my place atop the stone wall that lines Island Wharf Road to get a great above-the-crowd perspective of the carriage’s approach with Santa waving at the people as he passes. As he closes in on my position, he looks over at me on my perch and gives me a wave.
“You’ve been a very busy girl!” Santa says to me. And for another split second, I’m back to being 5-year-old Jeannie again. She feels proud and special to be singled out by Santa. “Ho-ho-ho! Merry Christmas!” The horses take the turn and Santa passes on into Marion Center with an entire village following behind him.
It’s an extraordinary sight to see the village streets so full of people. Village businesses open their doors and hand out free snacks, hot cocoa, and candy canes… There is popcorn and hot dogs and holiday music… Neighbors in colorful hats and scarves greet one another and shake each other’s mitten hands in front of decorated holiday doorways and it all seems like one big living Christmas card.
The Marion Holiday Stroll is an essential component to Christmas for many of us, and it certainly feels less like work and more like a Christmas catharsis for this community journalist.
The spirit of the holidays was alive and well in Marion on Sunday as I walked back to the car. Holding my son’s hand in one hand and 5-year-old Jeannie’s in the other, we strolled on into Christmas.
By Jean Perry