A Holiday Season Sidetrack

We interrupt our regularly scheduled blog entries for a series of Christmas remembrances. (yeah)

Until the house burned down, every Christmas for me was a wonderful event. It began the day after Thanksgiving, when we would set up the tree and decorate it. Then it became a daily ritual to rise up in the morning, rush downstairs to the living room and see if anything new had arrived. The ritual would be repeated when returning from school in the afternoon. There was a little jealousy when someone else would have something new, but just watching the stack of beautifully wrapped boxes grow was mystifying. With two parents, seven children, four grand-parents, an aunt and sometimes others, it didn't take long for the pile to become magnificent.

Originally, mother, Mickey, Lynahr and Judayl would decorate the tree. Dad would put it in the stand and Mickey would wrap the electric lights. Those were incredibly hot. Why our trees didn't catch fire and burn I do not know. I even wondered about it at the time. The bulbs burned me.

Later, Gayanne took charge. This was even before Lynahr and Judayl left home. Helvie and I helped too. We strung the popcorn and cranberries on string. I still remember the pattern: three popcorn and one cranberry, over and over and over and over again. The average length of these homemade garlands was about six feet. We would make several to wrap around our twelve foot tree. (We had twelve foot ceilings. That made for fantastic trees.) Also, because we were small (comparably), Helvie and I got to go behind the tree to hang ornaments. The plastic ones, and those which Helvie and I made in school. I didn't much appreciate having to hang my handmade bulbs - made from real egg cartons and painted by me - in the back, but they were there.

No one was immune to the draw of the Christmas Tree and the goodies it guarded. Adults would pretend not to notice, but should a new present show up addressed to them, they were suddenly in a much better mood. Daddy wasn't bashful. He would blatantly search the pile, looking for anything with his name on it. That made Helvie and my laying in front of the tree on our bellies staring at the lights less embarassing.

The build up to Christmas was like a pressure cooker (I assume, having never been inside a pressure cooker). Helvie and I were nearly always the first to rise on Christmas morning, but not by much. I think our older siblings may acutally have been awake before us, but didn't dare risk being teased about 'rushing' downstairs. I think they lay in their beds awake listening for Helvie and me to make fools of ourselves first. Then they could do it without being noticed. I believe this because it never seemed like it took long for them to come down - fully dressed. At least Helvie and I were still in jammies. (I wore jammies back then. Haven't for a long time. I should get some. I wonder if bunny jammies come in my size?)

That all of the kids were up meant nothing. Christmas could not begin until Dad said so. And Dad would not say so until Mother told him everyone who was coming, had arrived. This often meant both Mother's parents and Dad's parents. No matter that they hated each other. It was Christmas. We can all hate each other later.

Dad doled out the presents. I was his helper. (Dad didn't care much for crawing under the tree.) He would take all of the easy to reach presents and hand them out one by one. Then he would call on me to crawl in and get the packages which had slid way to the back. Helvie could have helped, but Helvie didn't want to. I thought it was great. I got to hold my own presents, give them to Dad, and then have him give it right back to me as though it were a surprise.

Wrapping paper piled up like snow drifts. You needed waders to get through it. I always felt sorry for the adults, and my older siblings - when they got too old for toys. Mostly, adults and teenagers got crap presents like sweaters, and crud like that. Not like Helvie and me. We got stuff you could make some real noise with. Like the year Mother bought us twin Tommie Guns. I remember when we opened them. Everyone looked at Mother and said the same thing. "Are you out of your mind?" If she wasn't when she bought them, she certainly was by suppertime. Helvie and I were tossed outside and told not to come back unless we agree to put them away - forever.

The food was great, too.

Presents began some time after nine or ten and continued to noon. By then the turkey and roast were ready (food was cheaper back then). There was mashed potatoes, creamed corn, carrots, cranberry sauce (the thick kind with real berries, not the jelly stuff), olives (with the red stuff in the center that was fun to suck out), and a bunch of other stuff that no kid in their right mind would touch, but adults couldn't get enough of. Eggnog (I forget how to make it). And cider - unspiked. Dad took no alcohol during the Christmas Holiday Season. After about two or three hours of letting lunch settle there would be hot pumpkin pie with a mile of whipped cream on top. There was also this abominable tin of sh*t called mince pie, which sounded good but tasted like crap.

Usually, everyone spent the night. The Ghost would be quiet, respecting the family time. Such days. I wish I could hold them in my hands. I love the memories. I love the music.

Sometimes, I think a year is too long a time. You know?