Do You Hear What I Hear?

 

Today I'm joining sprite once again with a post for this year's Virtual Advent Tour.  She has been doing it the last few years, and I find it both interesting and a lot of fun.

Wednesday afternoon, when I was at home and The Tim was napping after his medical procedure, I was listening to Christmas carols, and singing along with some of them.  Singing Christmas carols was always something that everyone in our family did, as well all love to sing.  My father had a beautiful voice, and my middle sister has one too - my mother had a decent voice and I can carry a tune, but will never be asked to be a soloist anywhere.

And then there is my oldest sister, Nancy.  Nancy really loves to sing, and she never sings in anything but an enthusiastic manner.  The problem is, she cannot carry a tune even if one was handed to her in a bag.  I mean, she doesn't even come close to the mark.  But to her credit, she doesn't care, and still enjoys singing ... loudly ... and often.

I was thinking of one year when we had a plan to go as a family to Midnight Mass.  Both of my sisters were in high school, so I would have been in elementary school, and they convinced my parents that we should go to Midnight Mass because then we could sleep later on Christmas morning, and not have to interrupt/stop opening gifts to get ready and go out.  My parents finally gave in, and the plan was made.  

Now, it was pretty well known that if you wanted to get a seat in our nearby church at all, you had to be there absolutely no later than 11:30 p.m., and even that was pushing it.  On Christmas Eve, we were all ready to go, except for Nancy, who was still fixing her hair (being a self-proclaimed fashionista, she took longer to get ready than the rest of us combined).  She finally sashayed down the steps about 11:40, and suffice it to say that my dad was already annoyed.

Unsurprisingly, we arrived and there was pretty much standing room only.  My middle sister saw a friend of hers, who let her squeeze into the pew, and a couple of young kids got up to give their seats to my parents.  But Nancy and I would have to stand the whole time.  About ten minutes before the Mass started, some hymns were played and singing began.  The first one was "O Little Town of Bethlehem."  Well, Nancy was standing in an area of the aisle that had particularly good acoustics, and all of a sudden, all that anyone in our section could hear was her extremely off-key version of said hymn.  And as I said, we were all *very* enthusiastic singers.  As you might imagine, many heads turned and looked in our direction with either puzzled or amused expressions, but Nancy was so busy singing, she paid no attention.  And so it began.

On the way home, we were all having a good time being amused by everyone noticing Nancy's bad singing.  But my dad - who found it impossible to believe that she was that bad of a singer - kept asking her why she did it.  She would respond each time that she couldn't help it, that was just how it was.  Then he said to my mother, "Why do you let her do that??" which of course led to her saying that it wasn't her fault that Nancy couldn't sing, and how was she supposed to not let her sing, etc.  Of course, we all found it hilarious, but my dad was truly irritated with my mom, who then became really irritated with him, which made us think it was all even more hilarious.

Never again did we attend Midnight Mass as a family.  Apparently because my mother just couldn't find a way to not "let" Nancy sing poorly ... 

To this day, the first strains of "O Little Town of Bethlehem" make me laugh.

Happy Birthday Mom, Advent Calendars, and Christmas Trees

There's a LOT happening today!  First of all, as you can see from the image above, I'm participating again this year in sprite's Virtual Advent Tour - which I have done for a few years now, and I'm always SO glad! It's fun to see what people have to say about this time of year, and what they are doing, what their memories are, etc.  So Happy Day 2 of that, and off we go!

Today is my mother's birthday.  We always celebrated her birthday before we really dug into the Christmas-y stuff.  Growing up, Christmastime started on December 1 and ended on January 6, and that's how we still do it now.  But my mom always said that when she was a kid, she would hate it when someone would hand her a gift and tell her it was for her birthday and Christmas.  So we always had her birthday before anything got "serious" about the rest of it.  

She's been gone for nearly 30 years, and would be 103 if she was still alive (which I'm sure would cause her to say, "Oh for God's sake!"), but I still miss her so much, and talk to her all the time.  So Happy Birthday, Mom, I hope you are having a wonderful celebration! 💓\

It's also Three on Thursday, so I thought I'd join in the fun, since I have three things I can show you.

This year, I was a little bit sad that I wasn't able to get a yarny Advent calendar.  I had so much fun with the one I got last year, but this year, it was not in the financial cards.  So I did the next best thing - I bought an Advent calendar for Hamlet.  

Last night we opened Day 1:

As you can see, he was extremely interested in it!  And as far as we could tell, the treat inside was *very* yummy. 

A very dear friend who knows both me and my niece Amanda sent us each a jam Advent calendar, which I had only ever seen during the By the Lakeside Vlogmas episodes last year.  I thought it was such a neat idea, and was completely blown away when it arrived!  Each day, you open the door to a different little jar of Bonne Maman jam.  (And I am a sucker for the little Christmas-y village, I have to say.)

Yesterday, The Tim went and bought us a Christmas tree, since he had the day off from work.

Look how perfect it is, and now the house smells so much like Christmas and pine trees, that you just can't help knowing that it really is Christmastime!

"Until Then, We'll Have to Muddle Through Somehow"

Happy Christmas Eve!  One of my favorite days, filled with joy, anticipation, bustling around (though granted, this year, the "bustling" is at home), and thinking of those you love, both here and otherwise.  I am writing this post not just for myself, but also as the final entry in sprite's 2020 Virtual Advent Tour.

Whenever I hear the Christmas song, "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas," I think of two things: 1) the movie "Meet Me in St. Louis," where the song debuted, and 2) those I love, both here and gone.  I think it is one of the most bittersweet songs, period, whether or not it is Christmastime.

I don't know if you have seen the movie, but one of the main aspects of the plot is that a family has learned that they will be moving from their St. Louis home shortly before the 1904 World's Fair that will be held in St. Louis.  This sends various members of the family into a tailspin for several different reasons.  One of the family members (played by Judy Garland) sings the song to her younger sister (played by Margaret O'Brien).  The part that *always* gets me are these lines:

"Through the years, we all will be together,

If the fates allow.

Until then, we'll have to muddle through somehow.

So, have yourself a merry little Christmas, now."

THIS.  None of us is guaranteed another Christmas.  *Every* Christmas is, unfortunately, someone's last one.  And that always hurts.  In my family, both of my parents were people who loved this holiday, especially my father.  Through many years of slim finances, questionable living conditions, and uncertain futures, Christmas was still special.  They have not been here to celebrate for a while, but nothing can take my memories away.  

More importantly, what and who is here today, right now, is what is important.  If you are reading this, you are here.  You may be missing someone, but you are here, and this is Christmas Eve.  Even if you are by yourself, you are here and you can love, and feel, and enjoy, whether or not anyone else is around.

People always say, "If I'd only known ... " Well, none of us knows.  We have right now, that is all that is certain.  It's Christmas Eve, maybe not like before, definitely not lilke ever again.  If you are feeling sad, I wish you joy again soon.  If you are feeling lonely, I hope you know you are loved.  If you are thinking it's all ruined because you can't do what you usually do, you are sorely mistaken.  Don't feel sorry for yourself.  Be glad that those you love are doing OK, and that to some extent, it's because of you and your actions.  

Muddle through.  Have a very merry, happy, loving Christmas.  Because in the end, it's your decision how you want this to be, and how you want to remember Christmas 2020.  Make it a memory of love, and one where you may have been inconvenienced, but in the end it was all OK.

That's all we can do.  It's all we should do.  

I hope you can move beyond your own self and your own feelings to enjoy what is happening and what you are doing for those you love.

So have yourself a merry little Christmas, now.

Christmastime Shows We Love For All the Wrong Reasons

Today I'm participating again in the 2020 Virtual Advent Tour over at sprite's blog, and I thought I'd share some Christmastime viewing that are favorites of ours, even if for all the wrong reasons.

Now keep in mind that we LOVE holiday and Christmas shows at our house, and of course watch the "standard" ones such as "A Charlie Brown Christmas," "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer," "It's a Wonderful Life," and so on and on.  But there are also those we have come across over the years that are just too good to not watch pretty regularly, not necessarily because they are well-done, but for other reasons.

First up:  "The Spirit of Christmas," with the Mabel Beaton Marionettes - a must-see every single year:

This one is a killer classic - each of us suspects we saw it as a child.  Besides the non-stellar quality of the production (which I'm guessing was not even that stellar when it had been originally broadcast), the marionettes are ... worrisome.  And hilarious.  And ... well, you decide.

Any/all of the big entertainers Christmas specials.  Recently, we watched this particular one from the old Dean Martin show:

Of course, we both watched these with our parents back when they were originally broadcast, but even if not every year, we do go back fairly often to watch them.  When we were kids, there were a lot of variety shows on, and all of them had Christmas specials, with extra guest stars, and they were ... OK?  This is a good example - A-listers (Bob Hope) and others - Dennis Weaver (WTF is he doing there, and WHY is he [attempting] to sing??).  Then of course at the end, the cavalcade of stars helping Dino announce childrens' hospitals that would be receiving toys from charitable organizations.  One of my nieces e-mailed us and said, "WHO in the heck *are* these people?" which makes it even funnier to us!  Plus, let's just say that there's a lot of things that would never ever pass muster today.

And one of our all-time favorites, "Beyond Tomorrow," which we came across one late night on television and just could not stop watching because, well, it's just plain awful in all the best ways and old cornball movie can be.

Oh my.  We even used to have a VHS of this one!

Now, I'm not promising that you will appreciate however much time of your life will be used up should you decide to check out any/all of these, but surely you have some of your own that are your favorites?  

I do have to say, they just don't make 'em like they used to ... 😊

It's That Time Again!

For the past few years, I've participated in the Virtual Advent Tour, sponsored by sprite, and it's one of my most favorite things of all about holiday time.  I've also been introduced to so many new blogs, new stories, and new traditions, and I don't know about you but I love when that happens.  (You too can sign up to participate here.)

Today is my turn to write a post, so I thought I'd tell you about the time my mother was thrilled to receive a gift from us that The Tim then had to tell her was actually for *his* mother ...

My mom, much like me (well, I guess I'm much like her actually), loved to open packages.  So it was not unusual for us to give her 4 or 5 things, each wrapped up,  as well as a stocking full of goodies and tiny little wrapped packages.  She was also someone who loved costume jewelry as much as fancy jewelry, so there was always a package of Christmas earrings, or a necklace, etc. - you get the drift.  

The Tim's mom was a different story.  She was first of all, really difficult to buy for because she could be really critical even while thanking you for something.  And she didn't really like a big variety of things.  So this particular year, The Tim saw that one of the department stores near us was having a pre-Christmas sale on their 14K gold jewelry, and he decided to buy his mom a pair of gold hoop earrings.  

When we used to travel home for Christmas, we would have two large bins in the car - one filled with gifts for my family, one filled with gifts for The Tim's family.  He was always in charge of packing the car (still is), because he has a certain way he likes it to be done.  This particular year, we were going to be with my family first, and then travel to his family.  

Christmas morning, we opened gifts, and everyone was having fun, and so excited with everything.  My mother opened a box, and I just happened to look up as she opened it and realized that it was the pair of earrings for my mother-in-law!  She of course, not having a clue about anything, was thrilled with them, and kept saying how pretty and fancy they were.  

Apparently when the car was being packed, one of the bins got bumped, and The Tim didn't notice that a single package had fallen into the other bin.  It was marked, "To Mom from Bridget and Tim," so we didn't notice it either.  Now, if we just shrugged and let my mom keep the earrings, it would mean we did not have a single gift for my mother-in-law!  So The Tim had to gently explain to my mother that a mistake had been made.

Fortunately, she completely understood, and even thought it was funny.  She did comment on how odd she thought it was that we gave her so many other gifts PLUS the fancy earrings, though.  

All's well that ends well, but it's become a Christmas tradition in our family that someone reminds The Tim of it every year.  Even some of the nieces and nephews, who had not even been born when it happened, will say, "Uncle Tim, do you remember when you gave Gram the earrings for your mother and then made her give them back?"

My mother-in-law was never any the wiser.  Let's just say that probably was a good thing.

Happy Birthday to My Mom and Virtual Advent Tour 2019

Happy December!  Today would be my mother's 101st birthday, and though I wish she could be here to celebrate, I also cannot imagine her being that old!  I do miss her every day, but have so many good memories that I feel her with me.

Because her birthday was December 2, we never ever did any major decorating for Christmas until afterwards - though there were always some things that came out on December 1, because to quote my mother, "It's the first day of Christmastime, we're not going to ignore it altogether!"  Actually, I always liked doing it this way - you had the fun of getting started, but didn't have to have everything done right away.

The Tim and I still do that - well, I do it, I'm 99% sure he doesn't necessarily pay strict attention.  Though when he sees it, he always smiles and says, "Well, here we go!"  ;-)

Anyway, I have usually put away the fall and Thanksgiving decorations by the end of November.  And then, every single year like clockwork, December 1 means the displaying of the cardboard Christmas wreath on the inside of the front door:

(That's the peephole on the door in the middle there, in case you were wondering ...)

This wreath is probably one of the first, if not the very first, Christmas decorations we bought when we first got married.  Until last year, you could see the sticker on the back that said, "15 cents," which is a pretty good deal - then and now!  We put it on our *outside* door then, as we lived in a small apartment building where you came in through a main entrance and then walked up to each door.  It was our first apartment, in married student housing at the University of Notre Dame, where The Tim was in graduate school and I worked in the main library.  We had a really nice one-bedroom apartment with a little patio, and we were determined to decorate for Christmas, in spite of not having much money or much room!

And every year since then, this cardboard wreath is pulled out and put onto the front door on the first day of December - now on the inside, so the weather doesn't destroy it.  As you can see if you look closely, there are some spots where the cardboard has gotten a small fold, or started to separate from the color image a bit.  But that only makes it more valuable.  It's a reminder of our first Christmas together, our first apartment, and that you can have a very festive space for just a little bit of money.  Yes, we have quite a few more elegant or nicer things as part of our Christmas decor, but this is the one that started it all, and still does.  :-)

I think remembering your beginnings is important, not just in life, but whenever you are able to find something that still makes you smile after 40+ years.

This post is also part of sprite's Virtual Advent Tour for 2019 - check it out, and join us if you like - it's really lovely and a nice way to enjoy the season.

Have a good week, everyone!

It's All About Belief

Here we are once again, having reached Christmas Eve, a day of anticipation and excitement.  For some, it's a bittersweet time because someone is missing, or because things have changed now that they are adults.  For others, it's a really busy day, for instance if you are hosting the Feast of the Seven Fishes, or if you have toys to put together out of sight of curious minds, or if you just thought about buying some gifts.

Today it is my turn again to write a post for sprite's Virtual Advent Tour 2018.

And I want to tell you about believing, because the Christmas season is as much about belief as it is about anything else.  I'm not necessarily even talking about religious belief, though Christmas is at its core a celebration of the birth of Jesus Christ.  There are plenty of people in the world who don't believe in Him, or the Christmas story.  I'm also not talking only about Santa Claus, the beloved character who brings gift and fills stockings and is one of the primary symbols of Christmas. 

What I would like to talk about is belief in something or someone you cannot see, or have never met.  For instance, I never met any of my grandparents, and have only seen one or two photos of any of them.  Yet, I believe they existed, not just because my parents existed, but because of all of the stories they told me about them.  I believe the Christmas story, not just because it is the tradition of my childhood, but because to me it seems very real and very meaningful.  I don't mind telling you that Christmas Eve and the retelling of the birth of Christ make me very emotional, because it seems like such a human story, and because, well, babies are in fact born.

I also believe in Santa Claus, for real.  OK, I know that any gifts I receive are from friends and family, and that I can even use the gift receipt to return or exchange them without having to book passage to the North Pole.  But you will never, ever be able to convince me that Santa and his reindeer do not exist.  Because I have no reason to think otherwise.  If Santa does not exist, why does Christmas seem like such a fun time of year?  When I was a kid, we had a few Christmases where Santa was not able to leave gifts, but he did leave a few things in our stockings, and that was as exciting as a thousand packages.  I know so many people who don't like this time of year, and/or think it's too commercial, or get sick of hearing Christmas music.  If Santa does not exist, why is it that none of their grumpiness or irritation rub off on me, a person who is very easily grumpy or irritated?  For some, this is a hard time of year because they are having troubles or have lost someone they loved.  Why would those intense feelings happen if they were not human and capable of feeling both love and loss?

I guess for me it boils down to my belief that Christmastime is about the belief in and of love.  It's a celebration - much more than Valentine's Day - of the fact that love exists, it remains, and that even if we can't see it as a physical item, we believe it's there.  If you don't love or have never loved anyone or anything, there is nothing to celebrate, nothing to enjoy, nothing to miss when it is gone.  I think most people believe in love - not necessarily the romantic kind, as there are so many other types.  And to love, be loved, and believe in love is always better than the alternative, if you ask me.

Jesus, Santa, gifts, carols - everything we associate with Christmastime - are all about the belief in love.  And love is belief more than anything else.  And belief gives us so much that makes us human. 

I hope this Christmas Eve is one of belief, hope, and joy for you and your family.  May the very best of the season be what you experience, and may you feel love above all else.  Always be looking up.

And if you are like me, I hope you are listening for, and that you hear sleigh bells during the night.  :-)

Happy Birthday, Mom

My mother as a young woman

A few years before she died, I asked my mother if she thought it would be great to live to be 100 years old.  Her response was "Oh for God's sake," in a tone that immediately let me know that she thought that was the most ridiculous thing I could have said.  It very well might have been, because it was 30+ years ago, and even then, people living to that age were very few and far between.

Today would be that day - my mother's 100th birthday.  To be completely honest, I cannot imagine her at that age.  Mostly because by the time she died, she was so sick and so frail, that even the fact that I loved her so much would not have made it worth her still being  here.  

Nonetheless, if she could have been healthy, it would be nice.  I often feel a bit jealous of my sisters, who had the chance to know both of my parents longer than I did.  They were fortunate enough to know them for a longer time when they were both healthy and energetic, and needless to say, quite a bit younger.  

Having said that, I was lucky with my mother.  For the most part she was healthy during the time I had with her.  She was incredibly smart, and often wished she had the chance when she was young to have gone to college.  She loved to laugh and have a good time, and you could not play a game with her without playing for money, even if it was a penny a point.  "It makes it a lot more interesting," she would always say - and she NEVER let you win, just because you were a kid!  She even figured out a way to play Trivial Pursuit for money ...

I do remember one time when I was young, asking her why she didn't do something, because so-and-so's mother always did it.  Her response was, "Because you are not the center of my universe."  That shocks people when I tell them, but it just seemed like her answer to me.  I never felt any less loved or cared for because of that.  And to be honest, I think it is probably good advice for any parent.

She thought The Tim was just the best.  And of course, he played up to her all the time, because he loved her too.  Her given name was Geraldine, but everyone always called her "Gerry" (though she spelled it Gere, "because my mother said, that's how it was spelled").  No matter, The Tim *always* called her Geraldine, and that was fine with her.  They had many conversations about how I was a pain in the a** (all when I happened to be right there), and often found the same things hilarious to the point of tears.  The Tim often tells me that he would give anything to hear her laugh again.

My mom's life was in no way an easy one.  Money was scarce when she was child, and when she was an adult, but life was lived anyway.   She grew up in a household where her parents were separated at a time when that was incredibly unusual, with her mother and her aunt, who was a nurse.  She knew that it was just as important for women to get an education and be able to work as it was for any man.  By the time I was able to be somewhat independent (I am the youngest child), my father was sick and she had to worry about and take care of him.  After he died, she carried on and lived her life, and kept a good attitude even when she started having her own health problems.

I wish she could have seen her grandchildren to adulthood, and known her great-grandchildren - she would be telling anyone and everyone about how wonderful they are, whether or not anyone had asked.   She would get such a charge out of everyone, and be right there with all of our ridiculousness.  

In our house, Christmastime started on December 1, but *serious* Christmastime started after her birthday on December 2.  She hated it when she was a child, and someone handed her a gift and said, "This is for your birthday and Christmas," and as a result, I *never* give anyone with a December birthday only one gift.  She adored Christmas music, and would sing along whether or not she knew the words (which admittedly drove me nuts!), often just making things up.  She and my dad made everything special,  but outdid themselves for Christmas, which is I suspect why I love it so much.

She died 30 years ago this past July.  Not a single day goes by that I don't think about her at least five times, and admittedly, I still talk to her sometimes.  When December 2nd comes along, it's always bittersweet because she loved celebrating her birthday, but she's not here to do it anymore.

And so, today, when she would have turned 100 years old (for "God's sake" or not), I hope she is celebrating with my dad, and that she knows that even 100 years would never have been long enough to have her here with me.  And that she also knows every single year, she is with me during Christmastime, along with my dad and all of the memories that make it even better.  

Happy Birthday, Mom.  Love you.

*****

This post is my first one in the 2018 Virtual Advent Tour, hosted by sprite writes again this year.  Please consider joining everyone there for at least one day - reading the posts is so fun, and it's a good way to mark Christmastime.

Virtual Advent Tour 2017 : Simple Christmas Happiness

Well, this is definitely a case of the best laid plans and all that.  I signed up again this year for sprite's  Virtual Advent Tour, and I have known for a while that today was my turn.  I had my post all decided in my brain and knew what photos I wanted to use, and I was set.  Then last night I picked up my laptop to get it set up, and ... nothing.  Zippo.  Nada. I did what I thought might "fix" it, with no luck at all.  The Tim was not home, so I couldn't get his assistance.  So I decided that I would get to work early and at least have my post up using my work computer, even if there were no other photos.  So here I am, and I'm glad it's Friday at least!

OK, you don't necessarily care about that so let's move on, shall we?

*****

Growing up, our family didn't leave near any of our other family, so holidays were completely on our own.  My mother was an only child, and though my father had siblings, they had been broken up as children to live with other relatives when his father was killed.  So he was close but not really with them.  And my parents were not the types to stay in one place if moving offered other opportunities, so we moved around a lot.  However, they both had decided that their own family was going to be different.  So we were pretty close-knit, and every single holiday was a BIG DEAL at our house.   Especially Christmas - my parents thought that was the highlight of the year!  (So you see I get my holiday love honestly.)

Our Christmases were so much fun!  We usually started decorating after December 2, which was my mom's birthday.  She was a firm believer in letting people with December birthdays actually celebrate their birthday the same as if it came in July.  We always had a tree, and lots of decorations, and stockings.  There was cookie baking (just the basics, my mother was only "domestic" at holidays), sing-a-longs (in the house, in the car, everywhere!), and just general fun.  On Christmas Day we would wake up and go to church, which could be excruciating, since Santa *always* showed up, and we would have leave the fun to go.  Always there were presents, filled stockings ("Something you want, something you need, something to wear, something to read," plus an orange and some nuts), and one or two presents from my parents.  We ate!  We drank!  We made merry for the entire Christmas season!

My parents never seemed stressed out.  They never complained that it was too much.  They never told us not to expect much.  I remember as an adult, I once mentioned this to my mother.  She told me that they both loved Christmastime so much, it was always as much fun for them as for us.  I asked her once why she never freaked out about holidays, meals, gifts, etc. and she told me it was because the only expectations she had to meet were hers and my dad's - no one else was around to compare, comment, or judge. 

Now the thing that most amazes me about this when I think back on it, is that my parents had pretty stressful lives.  Most of the time, we were ridiculously poor.  Sometimes we were farmed out to stay with relatives for a while when they were out of work.  There were a lot of huge medical bills.  When things were good, they were really good.  And yet, only as an adult did I realize how bad off we were!  Oh sure, other kids lived in nicer houses/neighborhoods and had more possessions, better clothes, etc., but it never seemed like a big deal.  If we wanted something, we'd be told that it wasn't something we could afford, and even though it was disappointing, that was that.  My mother used to say that just because you were poor, it didn't mean that you had to be dirty, or that you didn't still need to have manners, so even if we didn't have the best things, we always had clean, solid things and knew how to behave.  We went to Catholic schools most of the places where we lived, so we wore uniforms like all of the other kids. 

I do not ever remember a Christmas that wasn't a big deal.  I don't remember us ever not being all together, and having the time of our lives. 

When I think about it all now, it makes me realize that although my parents were not - by any definition - perfect, or saintly, they gave us the best they could and the best they had, often in really crappy situations.  But they kept the simple idea of what Christmastime should be - family, fun, and togetherness - intact.  So much so that my memories are happy, simple, and lovely.

We should all be so lucky as to be able to pull that off, right? 

And now that I poked around on my work computer, I was able to find one photo of my own for this post, so enjoy Christmas Moon Man, a handmade gift from a former co-worker long ago.  :-)

Have a great weekend!

Adaptable Traditions

Today I'm taking another turn contributing a post to sprite's Virtual Advent Tour.  Before saying anything else, I have to tell you that it has been so great to read everyone's posts this year.  I hope she will consider hosting again next year.

Part of what makes the whole thing so interesting is finding out how people "do" holidays.  To some degree, it's all variations on a central theme, but I don't think anyone celebrates holidays *exactly* like anyone else.

Now as anyone who knows me knows, I truly love Christmastime.  All of it.  I like making/buying gifts for others.  I like wrapping gifts.  I like baking goodies.  And I love decorating.  Just to name a few things ...

Years ago, I remember reading an article in the newspaper written by a family therapist, and she said that most of the couples who come to her had issues with two topics:  Money and holiday traditions. I read that part out loud to The Tim, and then said, "Fortunately, we agree on money issues, and we've never argued about how to celebrate holidays."  And he responded, "That's because we've always done it your way."

The short version of the discussion that followed was that first and foremost, he was giving me a hard time, and secondly, there were very few traditions that seemed overly important to his family, so he was more than happy to adjust to how I wanted to do things.

Which is lovely, and we have had wonderful holidays throughout our marriage.  And I realize that I do take it all more to heart than he does.  Everyone teases me, for instance, about my "Christmas Rules" (many of them), which of course I feel everyone should follow.  Intellectually, I accept that everyone does things their own way, and should be able to do just that; emotionally, I am convinced they should follow my example ... ;-)

Having said that, we have adjusted some of our traditions as well as created new ones over the years.  Originally, we both used to have jobs where we could either take the week between Christmas and New Year's off, or could take the time off without any problem.  So we would travel to be with our families.  It was always fun, and there are so many happy memories from those times.

Once The Tim started working in retail, not only did we no longer travel at Christmastime, but we had to adjust to the fact that he couldn't take any time off, and was also required to work six days a week during December instead of only five.  Trust me, that took some adjustment!  But now it's the usual, and though I would love to be able to see more people and do more things at holiday time, we still have the best time ever.

Traditions are open to interpretation, is what I'm saying.  So if there are any of you struggling because you can't do things this year the way you have always done them before, remember that the holidays are supposed to be fun.  And no one can have fun if all they can think about is what they are missing.

Homemade Noodles

This post is actually related to two things I participate in:

Carole and Kat's Think Write Thursday, and Sprite's Virtual Advent Tour.  And as it so happened, both asked us to write about our favorite holiday tradition.  I have thought long and hard about this, and I cannot choose just one, or even decide if it's more favorite than another.  Instead, I've decided to write about something *related* to a holiday tradition in my family.

Our big Christmas meal was always on Christmas Eve.  This was largely because my parents were incredibly social, so Christmas Day, after church, we'd be lucky if we ever got near a meal, between people stopping to visit us, and us visiting others.  So about the time I was 8 years old, my parents decreed that our big family meal would be on Christmas Eve.

Something to keep in mind is that it was seldom ever just our immediate family.  There were always extra people, friends of my parents who might not have anywhere to be, friends of my sisters who weren't going home for Christmas, orphans from the orphanage where my great-aunt (one of the nuns previously written about) who had no where to go, and I don't know ... just others.

Also, my parents tended to go all out at Christmas.  We were relatively poor, but they would take money out of their savings, and use credit for Christmas - both for foods and for gifts.

So that's the background.

One year, my father realized that his Uncle Bill and Aunt Viola would be alone at Christmas for the first time, as both of their adult daughters had found jobs in California and wouldn't be able to travel home.  They didn't make plans to go to California, because according to my father, Uncle Bill was "so cheap he would not pay a nickel to see Christ jump off the cross."  (Yeah, I know.)  So my parents decided to invite them for Christmas Eve dinner.  When my mother called to invite them, she told Aunt Viola to feel free to bring anything that was something they generally had for Christmas dinner, and it would be included.  Aunt Viola said that she would bring homemade noodles, because they were "Bill Arthurs' favorite."*

Aunt Viola was a good cook (or, as my father said, "Does it just seem that way because you never get enough to eat at their house?"), and the idea of homemade noodles was exciting to all of us, particularly since my mother never really made homemade anything.  So we were all looking forward to trying them.

Fast forward to Christmas Eve dinner.  Everyone is there, and the table is COVERED with food of all kinds.  There's talking, laughing, drinking, eating, and at some point during the meal, Aunt Viola asked my mother about the noodles.  My mother responded in a surprised and contrite fashion, saying that with all the people and all the food, she forgot to fix them.  Disappointing to be sure, but it's not like anyone was going to go away hungry.

Only after every single person but our immediate family had gone, did we learn the truth.  Aunt Viola arrived with a small baggie of homemade noodles - enough for a serving for Uncle Bill!  My parents said there was no way in the world (well, they said it more colorfully) that they were going to cook a single serving of something for one person.  My father claimed this was further proof of their cheapness.  My mother pointed out to us that, "Well, it *is* your father's family."**

So we never did get the homemade noodles.  But to this day, whenever we eat our Christmas meal, I think about those homemade noodles, which have become holiday legend in our family.  We'll sit down to eat, and even The Tim will say, "Oh, I forgot to cook the homemade noodles!"

The Tim and I have a tradition of a special Christmas Eve meal, and then a special Christmas Day meal.

But sadly, neither includes homemade noodles in any amount ...


*Our last name was Arthur.  However, Aunt Viola always referred to Uncle Bill as "Bill Arthurs."

**My mother was from a small family, and had cousins rather than siblings.  So she enjoyed pointing out to us the failings of my father's family.  :-)


P.S. If you want to sign up for the Virtual Advent Tour, go here.   It's fun and there are still some slots left!

Roses in December Redux

Last week one day, I was reading one of my usual blogs Sprite Writes, and she mentioned being a part of this year's Virtual Advent Tour.  I was intrigued, and followed her link (as I hope you will follow mine), and decided it just sounded like so much fun, I wanted to join!  I was given today's date, and have been thinking about what I wanted to write when it was my turn.

Here is what the basic idea is, according to the website:

"Each day anyone who wants to participate takes turns sharing a treat with our friends here in blogland. For example it could be something about your family traditions, recipes, your country's holiday traditions, or a favourite Christmas memory, movie, book, song...anything you like. Even if you don't celebrate Christmas we would like to hear about what your family does during the holiday season, whether it be celebrating Hanukkah or Kwanzaa or whatever it is that you do during this time."

I had several ideas, and when it came down to choosing something, I decided to re-post this piece from 2009.  It is one of my favorite Christmas memories, and one of  my very favorite Christmastime posts.   The thing I just noticed is that it is dated exactly four years ago today - which makes me think it is definitely the right choice!

For those of you who will remember reading it, you may just want to wait a few days for a newer post, but if you haven't seen it before, I hope you will enjoy it.

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10 December 2009

Roses in December

God gave us memories that we might have roses in December. 

~J.M. Barrie, Courage, 1922

  

It happens to me every year in December, but it's not something I can predict, or make happen when I want to.  It just happens when it's ready to happen, and to be honest, it's a bittersweet experience. 

  

You may have noticed that I am quite the fan of holidays, and Christmastime in particular.  I get this honestly, in particular from my father.  He grew up during the Great Depression, in a family who lost their father as youngsters (my father, the oldest, was only 13), and where the kids (4 of them) were split up among relatives afterwards.  In spite of hardship - or perhaps because of hardship - holidays were extremely important to him.  

  

Of course, this was just fine with my sisters and I.  My father loved to cook and bake, but was not home a lot due to his work, so the "big" holidays - Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter - meant he would not just be around, but be the one cooking.  In spite of the fact that this entailed him using every single pot and pan, and every single dish for his preparations (which we then had to wash  and dry later), this was something we looked forward to and counted on.  Though my mother loved to eat, she was not too crazy about cooking.  And needless to say, we never starved, but we couldn't wait for Dad to be home and be the cook! 

  

I will admit to being a Daddy's girl.  I was the youngest (by quite a few years), and so was nearly always home when my Dad was still around.  Thinking back, I realize that I probably drove him nuts hanging around with comments, questions, etc., but to his credit, he never treated me like he wished I was out of the way, even for a while (or, if he did, it was never obvious to me).  I loved to "help" him cook, watch baseball and/or football, clean - whatever he was up to, I liked to be right there. 

  

My father died of liver cancer when I was 13 years old, at a time when a diagnosis of liver cancer literally meant no hope of any amount of survival time.  This past November 24 was the 40th anniversary of his death, which occurred on the Monday of Thanksgiving week that year.  I could write volumes about this, but this post is not meant to make you (or me) sad, but rather to share something with you that happens every year at Christmastime. 

  

As I said earlier, I cannot wish this experience, or predict it.  But it happens, and even though I more or less expect it, I am always thrown by it.  

  

I can be reading, doing dishes, decorating the Christmas tree, or at work, and all of a sudden it happens.  I am walking in the door from school in the second grade, and my father, who is home recuperating from one of his many cancer surgeries, is there - in the middle of the afternoon.  He is putting up Christmas decorations, more specifically, hanging our Christmas stockings for Santa to fill.  The most amazing thing?  They are new stockings that he went out and bought that day.  And mine is green with Santa coming down the chimney!  Do you realize what that means??  GREEN.  Not red, like my sisters' and everyone elses' stockings.  And not just with Santa onit, but Santa coming down the chimney!  As far as I know, nobody else in the world has such a stocking, but my father found one, and knew it was the right one for me!  I remember the feeling of special-ness, of knowing that Santa cared about who I was that that particular stocking represented.  

  

Of course, now I realize that my father probably bought a green stocking with Santa on it because he wanted us to each have a different stocking and the remaining red ones were the ones he had already chosen for my sisters.  But at that moment in time, it was one of the most amazing experiences of my life.  And every year, out of the blue, I am unexpectedly transported to that very moment, surprised, pleased, and thinking my dad is the best because he knew I needed that stocking. 

  

When the moment is gone, I'll admit to being sad, at least for a minute or two.  But it's always the point when I know that Christmas has officially arrived, and that my dad is never that far away. 

  

Roses in December, indeed.

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