Merry Christmas (Part One of Three)

Merry Christmas (Part One of Three)

The Good Old Days

It's Christmas Eve again. I have lived through fifty-four of them now. I'm fifty-three but you have to include the one just after I was born and aged zero, well, six weeks. (You know, I once heard that in China they say that when you are born you are one. So there I'd be fifty-four.)

When I was a kid we always had great Christmas's. My Mom really got into it. It was her greatest pleasure to do whatever was necessary to make sure that my brother, sister, and I had an abundance of presents, and nice clothes for Christmas Mass. And year after year, though our family was never well-to-do, she made our letters to Santa and our sugar plum dreams come true.

My Mom had a "tradition," a way of doing Christmas, that she did every year. We always had a big Christmas Tree decorated and lit from bottom to top. The whole house was decked out with Santas and Angels and all the trimmings. She would start buying presents after Thanksgiving. One by one she'd wrap them beautifully with fancy paper, ribbons, and bows placing them carefully under the tree. All through December it was such a thrill to pass the tree every morning and see the new presents that had magically appeared overnight, and the piles growing.

On Christmas Eve we'd have roast beef with pan roasted potatoes and a salad. For dessert we'd have ice cream sitting around the Christmas Tree. And then, we'd each get to open one present. My Mom would pick which one. It would usually be a minor gift. She liked to leave the best for Christmas morning. And, of course, you had to open the presents on Christmas Morning because everybody knows that the presents from Santa arrive while you're sleeping... Duh!

There was a rule. We couldn't wake Mom and Dad until after 6:00 AM on Christmas Morning. That rule was really for my Dad. My Mom was just as excited as we kids. She lived to see us open those presents. But Dad was just a little humbuggy and would rather sleep in.

When morning came, there we were, three anxious kids and one anxious Mom waiting for the King of the Castle. We kids opened presents, my Mom took pictures, and my Dad cleaned up the mess as the paper ripping carnage went on and on. My Mom directed the show. We took turns opening, posing, opening, posing... until we came to our last present, the one from Santa. Then for the last present, we did it one by one. My Mom wanted to see each of our faces when we got that one special gift from Santa. Then we'd have breakfast, Quiche Lorraine, pork link sausages, and asparagus. It was wonderful.

When I was a little kid we used to go to Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve. I never really understood that Christmas was supposed to be a celebration of the birth of Christ. Santa and presents were not required. But, ironically, by the time I figured that out and understood it, we had stopped going to Church all together. Christmas was still a celebration but the religion had faded away. Still, it was a time of warm family togetherness.

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