I have written of sentiment before; it’s time to write of it again; it’s that time of year.

But there is a need for sentiment at other times, as well. Without it, many of our retrospectives would be wanting, as reminiscences that endure often require some degree of it.

I was once part of a group discussion concerning sentimentality. Someone there advanced the proposition that Doris Day singing “Sentimental Journey” was an outstanding example.

“Going to take a sentimental journey,

Going to set my heart at ease,

Going to take a sentimental journey,

to renew old mem – mor – ees”

Perhaps you recall my mentioning it. But maybe you also remember that Doris’s song was only one example of that genre – an example that was not everyone’s favorite.

Examples of sentimentality abound, and it’s good they do; I believe we need them more now than in the past. Though some parts of this column are a repeat, I can think of no better contribution to the season.

We need the old sentimentality that allows us to smile more broadly, feel pleasant moments of the past more deeply, but we need to create new moments that add dimensions of pleasantry to a challenging existence.

My friend, Charlie, has an old wooden postcard his mother displayed on her sewing room wall when Charlie was a child. The card carried this expression: “If you have nothing to do, don’t do it here.”

As most children did back then, Charlie soon learned to stay clear of places where such notices were posted. The mothers of our generation had little patience with inactivity and no trouble finding work in sufficient quantity and duration to prevent us from ever appearing as though we had “nothing to do.”

Doris’s song makes me feel sentimental, but Charlie’s mother’s wooden postcard is the sentimentality I prefer.

I love music in many forms. When performed with skill and expression, it can often convey feelings of sentimentality that abide during those moments we experience it.

But, as pleasant as that journey may be, I prefer the durability of something more tangible. Better, for me, that something learned, earned, or born of a memory held dear is the genesis of sentimentality.

Probably the best Christmas gift I ever gave was a sentimental one — a doll — to my mother. She was in her 50s then and was experiencing both physical and emotional changes. I wanted to provide her a feeling of youth wrapped in the same warmth she had so often wrapped life for me.

I attached a poem to the doll that ended with these words:

“And so to you, my mother, I give a gift of truth.

A gift that represents your heart –

my gift to you is youth.”

OK, so there’s a fair amount of Doris Day there, but, when it comes to our mothers, we can load up on sentimentality whatever its form and feel no shame in doing it.

And, though they may not admit it, fathers, too, are sentimental beings, not only appreciating it when it warms their hearts but when it warms the hearts of those they love. My father experienced as much joy in remembering my mother’s pleasure as she did in the receipt of it.

Every Christmas after that, “Mary” had a place under my parents’ Christmas tree, and, now, she has a place under ours. When I’m gone, Mary will find a welcome spot under my sons’ Christmas trees, as well – it’s a sentimental thing.

Consider putting sentimentality on your Christmas shopping list this year.

As noted, it comes in different forms; most can be found almost anywhere, often at little or no cost. Maybe an old photograph or old letter – maybe in a song.

Look for an association with meaning that brings forth emotion; things that show empathy or understanding work best.

Is there something you have forgotten, a thing you should have done or said but didn’t that you now regret? Has it left a void that needs filling? If so, there lies an opportunity to plant the fullness of sentimentality.

Wrap up whatever you find that will fill that void.

Whatever it is, plant it well; sentimentality grows best — blooms its fullest — if planted deep when real.

Doug Pugh’s “Vignettes” runs weekly on Saturdays. He can be reached at pughda@gmail.com.