The Christmas Memoirs

The Christmas Memoirs



Christmas is a wonderful and magical time of year with all the nuances of baking and family, shopping for presents and wrapping them, but especially the decorating. This is always the most stressful issue for me this time of year. I think time after time, “Do I go fun tacky or do I go classy?” I always end up pulling out the box of colorful lights, decorations, and ornaments that have accrued in the dark depths of my guest bedroom. There are always more than I packed away the year before, as if they multiplied like proverbial rabbits. I also have to deal with 7 cats who love the bright shiny tinsel and who take every opportunity to try to tangle me in the strands of lights as I chase them around the room. Coordinated attacks are carried out with surgical precision. The 5 babies have the most firepower. Every cute glance they give puts them one step closer to world domination.

After I have everything organized (no thanks to the cats!), I have to run through my frazzled mind. Then it happens. I think about how special the holidays were to me when I was a child. The memories of divinity and cheesecake, fighting with the cousins you only see around this time a year, and especially sneaking into the kitchen to glean stolen knowledge from the matrons of the family. I never learned as much from anything as I did from sitting at my grandmother’s feet. My mother and Aunt would regale us with tales of their hilarious holiday antics and favorite childhood pranks. I also watched my uncles with rapt attention.

I didn’t have a father figure at this time and it was a chance to get the attention a daughter craves from a father. I could always sit on my Uncle Mark’s lap when I was tired from wrestling with my cousins or when I just wanted to be still since he was the strong silent one. This was one of the few times of the year I also had big brother types around. I would bug my male cousins to death by playing their shadow. They were patient and loving with me as well though, always teaching me new things. I was a bare canvas, gladly accepting the gentle strokes that were shaping my mind and future.

My family was very tight knit. I remember my Uncle Bruce, who was a mine safety inspector, would bring us rocks and would always lift my giggling sister and me to the ceiling due to the fact he was 6 feet 8 inches tall. He would eat Oreo’s and mustard to gross us out and one time he went to Disney and brought us all Beauty and the Beast gifts home. Boy, was that a treat to a 10 year old girl! My mother groaned when he bought us our first set of make up. Talk about tacky! I walked around for a month looking like Meme from Drew Carey.

My mother was always a little down at Christmas, but she tried her hardest to provide everything my sister and I needed. I can remember her and my Aunt Ruth doing silly renditions of Build Me Up, Buttercup, and eating coveted chocolate covered cherries. My aunt went so far as to put Hershey’s Kisses and cherry flavored Tums together. You could always count on her to slip candy to us under sworn secrecy. Her daughter, Vanessa, was IT to me. She was about 14 or 15 and could wear makeup! She was just the greatest thing since sliced bread to a budding preteen. We would practice dancing and talk about boys. At age ten you are just learning about boys so you don’t know what you’re talking about, but it was always important to never let on to that fact!

My grandmother was the star of the Christmas clamor. She and my mother would direct the chaos of the cooking and corralling of the little ones, which was no easy task in a 2 bedroom trailer. I remember who had what job to this day. My Aunt Linda would peel the potatoes, my aunt Ruth would be in charge of making the cheesecakes, and my mother was in charge of the turkey and running after 7 children who all waited patiently for samples of the delicious fare being so carefully prepared. My uncles would be dutifully watching the football games and wisely staying out of their wives hair. My male cousins would be busy trying to hide from the clingy girls and the girls would be plotting some prank to play on the boys.

Once the meal was placed on the table and ready to eat, my Uncle Bruce or Mark would say a small prayer in thanks for the wonderful meal. It was always their job to carve the variety of meats. They would dig out the wishbone and my grandmother would place it in the oven to dry. There wasn’t enough room for everyone to eat at the table, so we all made our way into the living room, where we would all catch up on the year’s events. This would be the time my grandmother would tell stories of growing up in the depression and having Christmas in February the year my sister was born. She always bestowed the wisdom of her favorite euphemisms every chance she had. I can still see her waving her teacher finger, having caught me with too much candy, saying “Moderation in all things young lady!”

My point in this is simple. No matter how frazzled you feel, no matter how awful your year has been, remember that this time of year isn’t meant to be as stressful as it has become. It’s not about out gifting your Aunt Fifi. It is about family. It’s about passing knowledge onto the next generation of children that you don’t get to see very often. Christmas is about love! I have a challenge for whomever reads this. I challenge you to make your gifts from scratch, not from a store. Return to your roots and actually talk to those “annoying” family members you can’t stand. You might actually learn something! Take joy in singing carols no matter how off key they are, and most of all, tell your family that you love them