A Disney Christmas.(Brief Article)

Growing up in Southern California, I've always had a love-hate relationship with Disneyland. In fact, for almost as long as I can remember, it's been more hate-hate. Especially in the summer, when relatives young and old would descend on us, insisting that we take them to visit the Magic Kingdom, a mere eight miles away.

The routine was always the same. We'd arrive at the park full of enthusiasm--only to wither in the hot sun, waiting in line for hours to ride the featured attractions. The price of souvenirs and soft drinks would invariably set my father grumbling about "price gougers," or worse. It all became so much more stressful than fun that one day I vowed never to return. And until recently I did not.

Disneyland became a mere blip on my cultural landscape. With the years, even its physical presence seemed to shrink. As children, we could gauge our distance from home by looking for the imposing peak of the Matterhorn, the Disney roller coaster artfully disguised as the famous Alpine landmark. It rose, jarringly, from the flatlands and meadows of the southland, visible far and wide. Slowly yet surely, its snow-capped majesty faded, slipping into what became the smoggy sprawl of Anaheim, laced with freeways and housing tracts, a suburban home for Mickey and friends--but not for me and mine.

Then came September 11, and then Christmas and the New Year. Brothers, sisters, relatives began to call. If terrorists are hitting symbols of America, we reasoned, you couldn't ask for a better target than Disneyland. Its creator was the iconic American, after all, a risk taker who changed the world. People often say southern California has no culture, but they're wrong. Thanks to Disney and other visionaries, we have the dream business. Last time I checked, it helps give our state the eighth largest economy in the world. So we told ourselves: Let's take pride in our culture and our nation! Let's do our patriotic duty and go to Disneyland for Christmas!

Seldom has a family holiday proved so seductive. None of us are kids anymore. We're all in our 30s and early 40s, and not much given to fantasy. Yet this year was different. Escapism was much needed, we felt, and what better venue than the "Merriest Place on Earth," as Disneyland bills itself this time of year? For a few days we could pretend that the world was at peace, that we had never heard of Osama bin Laden, that the insecurity that overtook our lives so suddenly had inexplicably melted away. And so off we went, eight of us, setting out for the Magic Kingdom we once ...