A Christmas Memory

(with respect to Truman Capote for his truly exquisite story of the same title)

The last Christmas of my childhood was in 1973. I was 15. I’m not asking for sympathy when I say that, but rather, I hope, that my reminiscences will in some way help others move through the incredibly powerful Holiday memories that can still stop us in our tracks. Face your memories. Learn to love what was/is good and then gently process those things that have burnt your soul in one way or another. We identify so deeply with our childhood, and then have to grieve what wasn’t good, finding a way to move on to health and wholeness.

Onward as best we can, shall we?

My brother and I were fortunate grandchildren, a fortunate nephew, a fortunate niece. That was before our family splintered apart.

We were my maternal grandfather’s only grandchildren. Three of his four children were married, but only my mother had babies. Grandpa Newark, as we called him because Newark is where he lived, loved kids. He loved his own kids dearly and he loved his grandchildren just as dearly. Christmas Day didn’t really start — for me — until he and Aunt Viv arrived from Newark in his beautiful aqua blue Chrysler (with the wings and the push button gear shift — guys, really!)

Grandpa always gave us money for Christmas — a crisp, new $10 bill in a money card. But that wasn’t why we loved him. Yes, the cash was unusual and appreciated, but he clearly loved spending time with us, and that’s what made it so special. As for Aunt Viv, she always gave us expensive gifts that she’d shopped for from the Hahnes department store in downtown Newark; the classic white box with the iconic glossy red lid was so special! A memorable gift for me was the creamy, soft white mohair sweater that she gave me that last Christmas of my childhood. It was my first grown-up gift, really — a classic and flattering sweater. In those days, Aunt Viv got me.

My parents were pretty poor, but we still had a nice Christmas even when we were tiny kids. When I was very small, we would walk up the long gravel driveway early on Christmas morning to the home of my paternal grandparents — Grandpop and Grandmom “Up The Road,” because that’s where they lived. There we’d find breakfast and real Christmas stockings hung on their brick fireplace. We didn’t have stockings at home — we didn’t have a fireplace or money, so Mom left that to Grandmom. Mom was quite ingenious, actually, at making Christmas for us. Some of our requested gifts came from our grandparents, some from our honorary aunts and uncles (the honorary aunts being my mother’s dearest friends: Mary, Miriam, and Doris). If not for Aunt Mary, I’d never have had a Barbie doll, dresses, and a case. If not for my paternal Grandmom, I’d never have had the Mattel Fun Flowers Factory (remember those?). Aunts Miriam and Doris supplied additional doll dresses and the colorful flannel “granny” nightgowns that I so loved. Do you remember the Sears Christmas catalog? We were encouraged to look through and mark those things that interested us — Mom then went to work with modest requests, I think. And bless her for it, because in addition to making a nice selection of gifts for us, it made gift giving easy for those who loved us.

The best part of the day, though, was Christmas dinner. We ate early — about 1:00, if memory serves me. Mom managed to cook a turkey and stuffing and mashed potatoes and vegetables all in her little kitchen with the tiny gas stove. Thinking about it now, I’m pretty sure our entire three-bedroom bungalow was no more than about 900 square feet — so you can imagine the small size of that kitchen (no dining room). Dad would put both leaves in the Formica kitchen table and we all crowded around. Mom’s special china and “good” silverware were laid out beautifully on the white damask tablecloth, a family heirloom. Good tea in the china teapot, poured out into china tea cups after dinner; china cups that I still have. Apple, pumpkin, and lemon meringue pies for dessert. Mom wasn’t a super great cook in general, but she made a mean apple pie. To this day I can taste it. And I still have one of her heirloom pie plates.

And after Christmas dinner? A long walk. Long. We had a small house but lots of property due to being on my Grandpop’s farm. We needed that walk, believe me. We’d stuffed ourselves at dinner. The grownups were in grave danger of a tryptophan food coma, and we kids needed to run off steam, so out we went, no matter the weather. Up and down the driveway and down the sides of Grandpop’s fields. And then? We kids played with our presents in the living room while Mom and the Aunts put together the Christmas Day supper in the kitchen. Cold turkey sandwiches, leftover stuffing, potatoes, gravy, cranberry sauce, and — of course! — pie! A cold but flavorful feast spread out on the kitchen table. Heaven in the early Christmas evening. Not just because of the food but because we were all together, making do with whatever was left from the earlier, more formal dinner. To this day, I don’t have many specific memories of those suppers but I do have an incredibly strong impression of warmth, camaraderie, and the cessation of family drama for the time being.

All this is to say: I hope that there are Christmas memories, no matter how small, that will see you through what can be a difficult season of the year. I miss my parents, grandparents, and aunts and uncles most at this time of year. Why? Because this was one time when family drama was put on the back burner. As a child I may not have known the specifics, but I knew tension when I saw and felt it. We all do. If your golden memories aren’t from Christmas, I sincerely pray that you can live off them anyway, that there are nuggets to cling to and that will shine a light on you and for you now, in this season.

At the bottom of all of this is the truth of the Incarnate God, Jesus the Christ of God. The church turned a pagan holiday – Saturnalia — into an opportunity to celebrate the birth of our Savior. This is a celebration that we have done and continue to do … together … all these centuries later. It is so important that we have done this … together … over thousands of years. If you don’t know this Jesus, my Jesus, I invite you to look well past our current culture and find the true Jesus of Holy Scripture: Wonderful Counselor; Mighty God; Prince of Peace; Risen and Coming King. He reconciles every human being to the Creator God, in tender mercy and pure justice. He’s waiting for you now; please don’t wait any longer to give Him your allegiance. The God who came to earth to live as a human, to dwell with His creation and His creatures, is the God you can count on, even in the midst of human tensions and terrible memories. No, He’s not a fairy Godmother who grants all our wishes. He doesn’t even operate as our human sensibilities think He should. But He is absolutely faithful to the end, and no other human can give you that, my friend.

Message me. I’d love to talk.

And I wish you happy memories, however small, to feast upon this season. Let them fill you up and then burst out to others.

To borrow from Charles Dickens, I say this well known line: “And God bless us, every one.”

Christmas hearth 2022