Sitting around the table after tonight’s Christmas Eve service, I remissness with my family on their most memorable Christmas moments. After all, not only is it fun to hear my relatives dish out embarrassing details about each other but it’s also a good time to learn more about the experiences that eventually made my childhood what it was.
If I ever wondered about the origin of the odd collection that resides in my stocking each year, I need look no further than my mother (a.k.a. Santa). Every year for Christmas, she said her brothers and she would receive a large orange in the toe of their stockings, nuts still in the shells, hard candy to nibble on, and a toothbrush for damage control. My stocking has followed suit every year, with a few modern twists, of course.
My dad’s family did things a little differently (no surprise there). They would partake in unwrapping presents after the Christmas Eve service. He remembers gifts like a farm set and a filling station, but his most memorable experience was when his grandpa spanked Santa thinking it was Jim Anderson, but it actually turned out to be Mabel McNair. Ho ho ho…
I remember the year I was surprised on Christmas morning with the most beautiful doll house imaginable. A few years before that, I joined the ranks of the chefs in our family with a Fischer Price kitchen set. Years later, my parents told me the story of putting it together in our living room. Unbeknownst to me, it took my mom, dad, a friend, several glasses of wine, and seven college degrees between them to put that thing together. Mom remembers a similar kitchen set, but this one was hand-crafted by her dad, my Grandpa Dale. Once I came into the picture, he carved Noah’s Ark for me, complete with removable top which was graced by a single dove, a pair of elephants, giraffes, camels, alligators, Mr. and Mrs. Noah, and many others. Reminders of my grandpa the craftsman are dappled all over the house: a gorgeous rocking chair made for my little toddler self, a smaller version for my baby doll, and a nativity set with paint detailing by grandma, just to name a few.
Grandma Cleo, whom we’re lucky to have spending Christmas with us this year, remembers a time when things weren’t so fortunate. For Christmas gifts, her mom and brother would make dolls for her and her sister made out of cigar boxes with spools for legs, which she loved. One particular memory she possesses was a Christmas during the Depression. Many families, including hers, could not afford a tree for the holidays, so her class at school would have a drawing for one lucky kid to win a tree to bring triumphantly home to their family. Although she says, “I was a smart kid and knew it was rigged,” one year her name was drawn from the basket, and she got to bring a bit of Christmas spirit home for the holidays.
But what I recall most this season is a very recent memory. This year we celebrated our first Thanksgiving and now Christmas without Grandma Fern, and the loss is present every day. I still have to remind myself at times that she’s gone, even though I gingerly laid her casket in the Earth myself, along with the loving hands of her other grandchildren, my cousins. I thought I would eventually have the words to express how much she meant to me, but they haven’t come yet. When I think of her, I remember her selflessness: how she would let me pick through her jewelry boxes, Grandpa Harry’s coin collections, and their scholarships to the grand kids, among many other things. She spent most of her life as a teacher, and she never failed to remind us of how our brains work, and how we must use them. One thing I will always remember, is that she was probably my biggest fan. How her face would light up when she saw me, like I was the most important thing in the world. She loved to listen to people singing and was always asking me to sing for her, for her friends, at church, and for anyone who would listen. Even in her last days at the hospital, she had her family singing hymns by her side. I’m so sorry I couldn’t be there to sing to you, grandma, but I know they did a beautiful job without me. Knowing her though, it would have been silly for me to miss school to come be with her. She would rather I focus on making good grades than fussing over her. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of you and what you meant to me. Thank you for bringing us all together and reminding us to be grateful for one another. Because of you, I have learned to cherish the people in my life more dearly, and to not let anything pass me by. You were a wonderful teacher, inspiration, and a true gift. Merry Christmas.
We came across a rainforest (yes, an actual rainforest) and found a little Japanese graveyard while scouting around.
lalalizlang 