A Winter Holiday

A couple of years ago I was digging around in our storage and came upon my Gramma Al’s fur coat.  As I looked at the coat, I saw a piece of kleenex, tucked into the cuff on the left arm. 

I unfolded the tissue and saw my Gramma’s lipstick print, just as she had put it there some thirty or so years ago.  And then I held the tissue to my face and breathed in deeply, and I was reminded of her perfume.  In an instant all the sights and sounds of holidays past, came rushing in.

It was a few days before Christmas break in 1968.  I was 8 years old and Clare was 6.  The snow was piling up outside, like good intentions on the first day of school.  The sidewalks were shoveled into trenches to walk in on our way to school.

Clare and I were in boots, snow pants and coats and mittens and hats and scarves.  We were wearing a lot of clothes to walk the six blocks between our house and Beaser Elementary School. 

We dragged our school bags through the snow.  Bags which were full of homework , tablets, pencils, crayons and library books and school shoes.  When we finally arrived at the school, we began to peel off the layers of clothes and deal with the inevitable hat hair.  We both had long hair and we were either battling hat hair or snarls.

It was the last day of school before the Christmas break was met with the same level of anticipation as the last day of school.  No teacher was fool enough to try and teach us anything, so we spent the day singing Christmas carols, and putting on the school program and finishing up our cards and homemade presents for our parents.

As the day progressed the anxious little children became squirmy little wide-eyed children who jumped around like we had ants in our pants.  It was so hard to be quiet and behave when there was a tree at home with presents underneath it and your name on some of the tags.  Who knows what kind of treasures were in those boxes?  No matter what it was, we wanted and loved it and treasured it.  I have a doll I got one year that was so pretty, I never really played with her.  She’s still with me and she still has a tube of toothpaste that came with her.  And I still have her shoes.  I’m a saver, I like to keep everything.  Just ask my husband.

As the day finally drew to a close, we carefully folded the paper chains made by our little hands with loads of paste and construction paper and put them in our school bags for the trip home.  We also tucked in the homemade cards and presents which we made in art classes the week before. 

Clare and I hurried home as fast as we could.  There were only a few stops along the way to climb snow banks and make angels in the snow.  As soon as we got home we unfolded our paper chains and put them on the tree.  Then we turned over our homemade gifts and cards to our parents who were sitting in the kitchen drinking coffee and trying to relax in the chaos of the holidays.

Clare and I dove under the dining room table to lay on our stomachs and look at the tree.  It kind of freaked us out sometimes when the tree was looking back!  Our cat climbed up the middle of the tree and sat there.  When you walked by, her big yellow eyes would follow you.

If you didn’t know we had a cat it was a little freaky.

By the time Christmas Eve finally arrived we had worked ourselves into the kind of frenzy that can only now be achieved by downing 4 double shot espressos and topping them off with a half dozen red bulls.

We were like live wires, the excitement was palpable.  No amount of coaxing could get us to settle down.

My Mom always let us open one present on Christmas Eve.  I think she had to let us.  We were so excited, we were probably driving her crazy with our begging.  I think this is the only time begging worked out for us.  We must have worn her down.  But I still do that tradition here, I think it’s kind of fun.  But then there was another problem, which one of the mystery boxes would we open?????

Normally we would open our presents from Aunt Marilyn and Uncle Glen.  They lived in New Mexico with their 3 kids, my cousins Nancy, Erica and Peter.  They all looked like they walked straight off a sixties sitcom and I mean that in a good way.  All three kids had blonde hair and beautiful big bright white smiles.  I remember one year we got matching green plaid dresses.  Our cousins Nancy and Erica also got them.  Nancy wore her dress for her school pictures.  I always felt special in that dress, like some of the magic of their technicolor life rubbed off on me.  I felt very pretty in that dress.

So here it was, everything was done, the only thing left was to go to bed.
Christmas Eve is by far the most difficult night of all.  Sleep is the last thing you want to do.  Between our excited giggles we would look out the window and watch the snow fall and wonder aloud about which things were in which boxes.  We also used this time to sing at the top of our lungs.  We did this every night, not just during Christmas.  We mostly sang Beatles songs and Three Dog Night.  My poor parents.  Every time they told us to be quiet, we acted like we didn’t know what they were talking about.

When sleep finally came we slept very hard.  After the past few days of anticipation, our exhausted little minds were filled with dreams of dolls, bikes and teddy bears.

When morning finally arrived, it took us about 1 1/2 seconds to figure out which day it was.  Clare and I would run to the top of the stairs, link our arms and run down the stairs as fast as we possibly could.  We continued this tradition every year well into our twenties.  We would probably still do it but I live in a ranch house.

As we rounded the corner, we peeked into the dining room and there it was.  A bounty of presents appeared overnight!!  Santa had come and left more presents and mixed up our carefully arranged stacks.  What did these boxes hold!!!

It was so exciting, so many things under the tree.  It was almost too much to bear.  And then.....we waited.  Although we were never told to wait, we always waited to open our gifts until after Mom & Dad came down.

Sometimes we would run back upstairs to hurry them along.  Mostly we would just sit and wait.  A few times we made coffee, thinking the aroma would surely make them hurry up.  I was right, it did.  Probably because we didn’t know how to make coffee and it was boiling up and all over the stove.  But they never complained.  Mom and Dad sat with their mugs of really strong coffee and very tired smiles.  Very tired from staying up late to assemble whatever needed it and to move the presents from where they were hidden.

If you happen to be a little kid, you should know that Santa left the presents for us earlier in the night, so our Mom and Dad had to hide them until we went to bed.  Then Mom and Dad  put them under the tree.  You see Santa has a long way to go on Christmas Eve, so sometimes he stops up north in Wisconsin first.  Anyway, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.

Soon we were up to our chins in flying paper and bows.  The chaos inside almost matched the snow blizzard going on outside.  We tore open the packages like they were on fire.  And what presents we got!!  There were the dolls, doll clothes and games.  There were clothes and mittens and books. One year we got bikes from Gramma Al and Grampa Jack.  I would give my right arm to have it back.  Mine was a 3-speed Schwinn, purple metal flake, banana seat and wheelie bar in back.  I loved it.  Clare’s bike was a single speed, marine blue Schwinn also with a banana seat and wheelie bar.  I think she also had a basket and bell.  I’m not sure, but I think she did.  If I wasn’t so lazy I would go and pull out the photo album and look, but it’s Sunday and I’m here alone with Dino.  I’m not getting up for anything except maybe the Milky Way Bar that’s waiting for me in the refrigerator.

Every year we got so much stuff.  One year we got a science project kit that had chemicals and a microscope.  Clare would play with that stuff forever.  She would take it into a closet and sit there by herself mixing stuff up.  She’s a pharmacist now, this was probably good training.

After we played with our new toys, Mom had to practically threaten us to go back upstairs and get dressed.  Christmas dinner would be served soon and our grandparents and Aunt Susie and Uncle Mac would be arriving soon.  We had to put on nice dresses and tights.

And in they came with a rush of cold air and warm hugs.  Gramma Al and Grampa Jack, Aunt Susie and Uncle Mac.  All of them happy to be in from the cold and ready to hug and kiss all four kids.  Mary the oldest, Mike the only boy and the one with the biggest blue eyes, me and Clare the only blonde.  As we greeted each of them, we all got marked by Gramma’s lipstick and surrounded by her loving mink covered arms.

And just like that, my memory is over and I’m standing here in my house in Harmony Grove, looking at my Gramma’s coat and inhaling her perfume as deeply as I could.  I’m not 8 years old anymore and my Gramma, Grampa, Uncle Mac and Dad are gone.  But in my memories, they are right here.

If I shut my eyes, I can almost see Dad mashing the potatoes and Mom putting her homemade rolls on the table, Grampa Jack slicing the roast and Gramma stirring the gravy.  It’s a nice memory and it makes me feel like I’m at home.  After all, they’re not really gone, my family is right here whenever I need them.  I can feel it.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year

Thanks for listening,

Anne