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My Christmas in England was quite different from the holiday back home in America. As an Episcopal (essentially the American version of the Church of England), it was a real treat to celebrate Christmas Eve mass in England, where the local mayor was dressed in eighteenth century attire, and the priest was in full high holy day regalia. The liturgy was the same, but the spirit of the holiday seemed more festive and special; maybe it was just me, but I don't think so. I think in America we go through the motions without the true feeling of the specialness of the holiday.

On Christmas Day, we ate enormous amounts of minced meat treats, stuffed goose, and puddings with clotted cream. We warmed by the fire of coal on a grate in an enormous fireplace and sang songs, some I'd never heard, from well-worn song books, and then went for a walk before returning for more food and Dry Sack sherry for us all.

My favorite part of Christmas in England was Boxing Day. We boxed up gifts and went door-to-door, giving gifts to neighbors and friends of my host family. We were invited in and I met some of the nicest people in the world. The presents we delivered were handmade potholders, aprons, and biscuits, or what Americans call crackers. They were special because of the labor of love, which brought them into being, not something bought at Wal-Mart. It was such a special day for me; I continue to observe it, still.

On Boxing Day, I begin by writing letters to friends, whom I haven't seen in years. "On this second day of Christmas, I am thinking of you," I write. I then box and wrap homemade candles and drive to friends homes, where I show up at their doors, saying, "Merry Christmas." They no longer say, "Christmas is over, but come on in." They are accustomed to my eccentricities by now.

We have a glass of wine or a beer, and share stories of our holiday with loved ones. Now that my friends are accustomed to the event, they seem to enjoy it with me, giving me a present they saved, knowing I would be in their homes on Boxing Day. "We look forward to it, instead of just having one special day," they say, now, or something like that.

I have my candles and fire-starters made, and banana nut bread. I will box it up and deliver it to my friend's homes on Boxing Day, as usual, after I have written to my host family from England that special year. Once again, I will write, "On this second day of Christmas, I was thinking of you."

Learn more about this author, Will Kester.
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