When I was a child Christmas was a huge event in ours lives. Not just mine, all of us kids. I remember going with Dad to pick out a tree...it was always a real tree for us back then. I never even knew there were 'fake' trees. Some of the other kids came too but I don't remember who they were now.
I never knew where it was that we went but I remember trekking through the woods somewhere and Dad actually cutting the tree down. I also remember Mom being upset when the tree Dad brought home was too much of a monster to fit in the house! I believe he ended up having to cut a lot off the top of that tree and then it was up to the rest of us to make it look beautiful with the decorations.
There was something inherently wholesome about Christmas when I was young. We believed in Santa and were never disappointed if we didn't get what we wished for...because the gifts we did get were still fabulous to us and I don't recall ever asking for anything in particular anyway. The only Santa we ever saw before Christmas was associated with the volunteer Fire Dept and of course Dad knew the guy playing Santa...whoever fit the costume the best. We all took turns sitting on Santa's lap of course but I don't believe there were any pictures taken...at least I've never seen any.
It feels like we always had a white Christmas too. I'm sure that's not true, but that's the way I remember it. And probably the reason we never asked for anything in particular for Christmas was because our tv watching was very limited. We watched tv at night before going to bed and we watched whatever Mom and Dad allowed us to watch....usually shows like Ed Sullivan and Red Skelton...or possibly The Honeymooners. We weren't exposed to a lot of commercials displaying the latest toys and we knew better than to beg for that stuff anyway. It never would occur to us to ask for the stuff we saw on tv.
For the most part we were 'thrown outside' to play every day. I don't know exactly why I say it that way because there certainly was no actual throwing going on. Mom had too many of us...she'd never have had the energy to throw each child out the door. And how exhausting would it be to also keep catching the ones trying to sneak back in and tossing them out again?!
Yet we were sent outside every day and on weekends it was for most of the day too. We only came back to eat lunch; or dinner or if someone got hurt bad enough that it needed medical attention. These were the days that we played in the massive amounts of snow that seemed to be everywhere.
We'd make forts and stage snowball fights...often against unsuspecting victims. We'd make snowmen that would last for weeks..although they'd sometimes take on a warped and twisted demeanor after being exposed to sunshine all day. And we didn't use the standard things to make a face on our snowman. We'd use sticks and rocks and stolen pieces of clothing to wrap around his neck or plop on his head. It wasn't unusual for one of us kids to have to traipse outside and retrieve someone's mittens from the stick arms of the latest snowman...or someone's hat from the top of his slightly melted head.
The sides of our driveway were often piled well over our heads with snow. I'm sure now that getting that snow up there was no easy task for Dad but there was limited space to put all that snow. And we never had a snow blower...that's another thing I never knew existed until I was much older and had to do the shoveling when it snowed.
Us kids would attack that huge wall of snow and make it our own within minutes of getting outside. We'd end up with snow down our backs and inside our snow pants and boots but the secret forts and tunnels we created were well worth it. Nowadays you hear about kids actually dying inside huge snowbanks...we never even imagined such things could happen. We never wore helmets and padding when we rode our bikes either and we rode them in the road; on the sidewalk (if there was one); across the school yards and even peoples lawns. Nobody got hurt.
But I digress here because this is supposed to be about Christmas.
Christmas was always about midnight mass too. We weren't allowed to go until we were judged to be of sufficient age to handle being up that late. I think that age was around 10 but I'm not sure. I do remember going with my Mom and probably with a few other siblings in tow. We'd be in the choir area and Mom would sing in the choir. I loved being up so high and able to look down on all the people and watch. I remember one year there was a car accident that caused the church and surrounding area to lose power. There was a little bit of startled silence but very quickly candles were passed out and lit and people held them for the rest of the mass. It was the most beautiful mass I'd ever seen and seemed somehow magical just because of the candle lighting. Back in those days the Catholic mass was still being done completely in Latin so the candlelight mass was a welcome relief to me. I'm told they have a candlelight ceremony even to this day. Nice touch.
Christmas day was always the same yet different over the years. I don't know who was the first kid to wake up but it was usually the youngest ones. And they always woke everyone else because it was just impossible to keep themselves quiet...plus I'm not convinced they even tried to be quiet anyway. Eventually someone would be elected to 'sneak downstairs and see if Mom and Dad were awake'. Of COURSE they weren't awake....it was usually 5 am! When we were old enough to understand the concept of time and parents needing sleep, we were told never to come down until it was light outside. (that only gives you an hour more to sleep parents!) So the elected kid or kids would have to tip toe into Mom and Dad's room and ask if we could come down now and open gifts. Sometimes the answer would be no, go back to bed for another hour (you mean so you could pretend to sleep while we make all kinds of noise over your heads?); sometimes we'd be told we could come down and have our stockings (which were always lined up according to age on the couch; and had our names on them; and in later years were made by my Aunt Ida); and sometimes they'd actually wake up and pretend to be enjoying watching us rip into those stockings like wild cats. Usually it was Mom that got up to help the littlest ones with their stockings. Us older kids were way too involved with cramming the forbidden candy into our mouths to help the little kids. (we weren't supposed to eat any candy before eating breakfast...yeah, right!) Dad would be given a bit more time to 'fake sleep' before having to get up and join us.
Every year the gifts were handed out and opened first....Dad doing the honors. Each kid would squeal with excitement or gasp with astonishment at what they were opening. We truly loved what we got. (with the exception of that traditional orange in the toe of our stockings each year). Sometimes the gifts were too big to wrap. Then the oldest kids would have to wait and pretend that their other gifts were just so absorbing while we waited with held breath and slanting looks..to find out who's name was on the big gift when Dad called it out. Sometimes they'd fool us all and it would be for all of us. A family gift! What wonderful fights we'd have over sharing the family gifts! :)
I remember getting a camera once that took pictures in reverse of what you were looking at. I don't understand it even to this day but I had lots of fun with that thing. And another year, when we were a lot older ( and the presents were more expensive I'm sure) we got a family gift of the game 'Clue'. I think it was a brand new game back then. We played it all day long...swapping gamer players as one would get tired or hungry and another would take their place...even the neighborhood kids got in on it later in the day. I'm sure our absorption with the game gave Mom and Dad some welcome quiet time to themselves.
Mom would always make breakfast as soon as the gifts were open...feeding Dad first. We always fed Dad breakfast first. He was the man of the house, the breadwinner, the guy in charge...and he usually had tons of other things to do so didn't have time to hang around awaiting to start his day. Dad came before us kids...that was the pecking order. After breakfast of eggs; bacon; fried potatoes and toast..we were set loose on the world and allowed to play all day..whether that be inside or outside.
It wasn't until much later in life, when we had our own kids and we'd bombard Mom and Dad's house for Christmas, that Dad wasn't the one to hand out the gifts anymore. I think he had reached a point in his life where he just wanted to watch the fun now. One of us kids or sometimes Mom would hand out the gifts. There were so many of us there was never a shortage of people to 'man the tree'.
And it wouldn't be Christmas unless my Grandmother was there handing out her crazy 'grab bag' gifts. We loved picking gifts from that bag! And boy were there some crazy things in that bag!
I was so caught up in the actual living of my life that I never realized that things were changing...old traditions were giving way to the new ones...the first generation was stepping back to let the next generation take over for them. Knowing it now, there is a sense of loss that prevails but there is also the small feeling that it was supposed to happen like that. Nothing stays the same and change is inevitable. We have to move forward and embrace the best parts of what our lives give us. It's not easy to do...I know that now. It actually is quite painful at times. Right now is a transition time for me...for us...for the whole family. Some of us are painfully aware of it and trying to deal with it. Others are blissfully unaware that changes are occurring under the surface as we laugh and joke and enjoy the youngest members of the clan as they too tear into their Christmas gifts like we once did. I can only hope that these young ones will one day look back at these Christmas memories with their own kids and see it as a joyous treasured time in their lives as well.
Rest in Peace Dad. I miss you.
