THIRTEEN CHRISTMASTIME MEMORIES



Ah, youth. All that anticipation! Decorating the tree, going to church, waiting for Santa, eating too much... And staring at--but never dare touching--the perfectly wrapped, hospital-cornered gifts under the tree... until mom and dad said it was time to open presents.

Sigh... those were the days...

1. I remember my mother making her special holiday bread (she is a genius with bread to this day--and I did not inherit that trait, unfortunately). It is a simple sweet bread with raisins studded through it; mom would divide the dough into three parts and braid it together before she baked it. I can still taste it.

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2. We always went to Christmas Eve mass, not Christmas Day. Now, being Catholic, we had lots of opportunities for church--all those holy days!--but my mother was a strict "vigil" person. We went to weekly mass on Saturday evenings, and holiday/holy days to the Vigil Mass, which is held the night before the actual event.
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3. After mass, we would go to my Grampa Joe's house. He lived in town, which when I was a kid was a big deal. Living on a farm three miles out, we only went to town once--maybe twice--a week. If necessary. Like if you were bleeding from the eyes. Or for church, of course.

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4. At Christmas Eve, we kids actually got to drink a glass of wine at Grampa Joe's. Granted, it was Maneschewitz Concord Grape or some other high-caliber vintage, but still. It was WINE!

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5. Our closest cousins would be there, and it was like a big party. We'd trade stories and go into Grampa Joe's spare bedroom and kick all the coats off the bed and hang out in the dark with cookies and our WINE and tell ghost stories. Ghost stories for Christmas?? You bet! The scarier the better!

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6. One Christmas Eve my sister and cousin wanted to "tell secrets" in private and shoved me out of the spare bedroom and I got my middle finger squeezed between the door frame and the door. On the hinge side. On my fingernail. (are you cringing yet? the nail fell off a few weeks later--baby, that hurt like a m-f!)

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7. We always had good, yummy (sometimes weird) traditional foods. Like pierogies, oyster stew--which wasn't stew at all; it was a broth with oysters floating around in it, kielbasa (can you tell I'm Polish yet?), and so much more.

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8. I can still remember getting that knot in my stomach when we'd finally get home and in bed, thinking I could never get to sleep and squeezing my eyes shut really tight (like that's going to work) so Santa wouldn't think I was awake and not leave me anything and finally falling asleep and waking up at like 5 a.m. and fidgeting like crazy because I didn't dare get up right away and finally getting up because I heard dad out in the living room bustling around... that anticipation was hell in the most wonderful way imaginable.

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9. Picking the first present to open. I always went for a safe one first, one that I pretty much knew what it was. Like books.

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10. Decorating the dog with ribbons and bows. Our dogs were the most patient animals on the planet, thank goodness. I have continued this tradition with my own dog (why not?). However he looks very put-upon whenever I stick a ribbon or bow on his head. Like "Oh, great. Here we go again. Treating me like a fricking present when I'm a dog! A dog! I want biscuits, not bows!"

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11. I remember my oldest sister (not the one who shut my finger in the door) crawling under the tree before Christmas and shaking every single present, trying to guess what was inside. I think she does it to this day. And--major plus-- Son seems to have inherited this particular trait, and it is really cute to watch him.

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12. Decorating the tree--resurrecting those old ornaments and examining each one and breaking a few (blush) and making sure you put "your" ornaments on the tree. This was crucial. Any ornament we kids made, we had to put on. And then there were the ornaments we claimed as ours... and on down to the dull, scratched boring ones that nobody wanted to put on but they had to be put on...

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13. My dad always turned on the tree lights first thing in the morning. It was magical to get up when it was still dark and go into the living room and the only light was coming from the tree. And on Christmas Eve and Christmas night, the tree stayed on all night long. I was never sure exactly why, but it was lovely and touching. I have taken this tradition to heart and I hope Son takes it with him as well.

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Don't know if I'll post next week or not; we'll have to see how things go. But just in case: Happy Christmas to all!