This offering is divided into two parts. The first part is humorous (one hopes) stories. The second part is a little different.
PART ONE: HUMOROUS (ONE HOPES) STORIES
Wook Spoiler Alert. Everybody calls my brother “Chewy” because he is a hirsute fellow who can growl with the best of them. But he was a neither hairy nor growling 11-year-old in 1987 when my Mom was diagnosed with lung cancer.
Mom survived, praise God and the doctors, and on the first Christmas after she returned home Dad wanted to make it an extra special one for her. He drafted the Wook and me to help him wrap presents. He let us in on a secret: He got Mom a color TV with remote for their bedroom. We wrapped some other stuff–in the slightly ham-fisted way you’d expect from two boys. Dad wrapped the TV. You may see where this is going, but let me take my time.
On Christmas morning we opened presents. We go oldest to youngest, and every time Mom’s turn came up she would say “I wanna see what’s in that big box!” And Dad would say, “No…give her that little one over there.” This went on for a while. At one point the imperfection of the wrapping came up and Wook stated, ‘”I wrapped all of these except the TV!”
(There was still some element of surprise because the TV had a remote. And no matter what the presents were, the best gift was having Mama Mary back home.)
Princess Phone For Josie Berry. I have told this story on the radio 21 times (once every Christmas). It is a family favorite. In 1993 my sister Johanna was 12 and she saw something in the JCPenney Christmas catalog she could not live without. It was a pink phone with places for photos of your friends and all kinds of pink neon Barbie-girl-Barbie-world thingies.
So she told Mom, this is it. I want this for Christmas. And Mom called the JCPenney catalog to order. And the JCPenney people said it was out of stock. So Mom told Joey that it was out of stock and she probably wouldn’t get it for Christmas. But Joey knew, just as the Wook and I did, that Mom could be a real gamer with Christmas. She engaged in lots of subterfuge to make sure we were surprised. So Jo called the JCPenney catalog, aaaaaaaaaaand…heard for herself that the pink girly-girl phone was out of stock.
Oh, cruel, cruel fate! Ah…but one day close to Christmas when Jo was in school, the JCPenney catalog called Mom back and said they just got some of those phones in stock. So Mom got one…and our Uncle Bill, who for decades worked for the telephone company, came over and installed the extra phone line in Jo-Bear’s room. Now I don’t know if she saw the phone jack before Christmas…it looked to me like they hid it fairly well… but she did get her pink phone with little places to put pictures of your friends and so on.
Cookie Talk. When I go home for Christmas it’s always nice to go out on errands with the folks…it’s quality time, away from the festive and busy Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. One year I went with Mom to a medical appointment. We went into a very small waiting room with us and maybe two other people sitting and waiting.
My Mom asked, as she always did, “Honey…is there anything special you want to do while you’re home? Anything you want me to make?” I thought for a moment and said, “Gee, it would sure be nice to have some Christmas sugar cookies.”
When we were kids (and Mom was 25 years younger) she would bake huge batches of cookies at Christmastime–corn flake cookies with little cinnamon candies on them, and my favorite: sugar cookies. They were frosted in a rainbow of colors and a variety of shapes–stars, wreaths, Christmas trees, and one that was supposed to be Santa I think.
So we’re in the waiting room and I bring up the sugar cookies and Mom says, “Those are pretty hard to make, babe.” And I said, “Well…I could help you.”
And then a woman three seats away from us laughed out loud. And she and Mom exchanged the knowing glance of women who had spent every Christmas making cookies, and that time was over now. And we got a box of sugar cookies at Wegman’s. (Not the same of course.)
I’ve put on Facebook previously that if someone made me some Christmas sugar cookies in Christmas shapes with frosting and little sprinkles, I would build them a boat. That’s just a silly way of expressing nostalgia for times past. Which brings us to Part Two.
PART TWO: MEMORABLE CHRISTMAS MOMENTS
Do you ever find yourself in a situation and realize this is a moment you will want to remember? Like, we all treasure memories of things past but sometimes you’re in the middle of something happening and realize, “This is incredibly special.” I know this brings to mind the following:
But let me share a couple of these with you.
Brockport Pals Visit Wenty. I made some wonderful friends in college, which is remarkable because I’m a pasty, socially awkward recluse. One of the hardest things about moving to Nebraska was knowing that I probably wouldn’t see many of them ever again.
But in 1999, three of my pals–Pat Adriance, Heather Spanevello (then Behr), and Erin “Kid” Covey. came to stately Wentworth Manor for a reunion. I showed them my home, and my hometown of South Otselic, NY. We exchanged Christmas presents. And we had turkey soup. It was incredibly nice of them to come all the way to visit…it’s one of my fondest Christmas memories.
Christmas Traditions. When I was in college, our Christmas break usually happened after all of the events and activities in my hometown that were such a special part of the holiday. But one year—I think it was ’96 or ’97, I’m not so hot on years–something changed. Either some of our hometown events were done a little later or the college break started a bit sooner.
I was able to attend the annual “Trim-the-Tree Party” at our local church which also included a sing-along of favorite hymns.
And I got to go on a ride all over Otselic Valley with Mom and the Knickerbockers, Nick and Arlene, to judge the “Best Christmas Lights” contest. Arlene was my 1st Grade teacher and Mr. Knick was my 7th Grade math teacher. The Knickerbockers were dear friends of our family. About a year after I moved to Nebraska, Arlene died. It hurt not to be there. This is a feeling that has come up more than a few times over the last 21 years. I wouldn’t trade my years at KCOW for anything…but the distance is sometimes frustrating.
Christmas Shopping With My Pappy. For a couple of years now my Dad has been essentially housebound…he can drive places but moving around is tricky business. Four or five Christmases ago, Dad picked me up at the airport. Before his health troubles, Dad was always there at the airport waiting for me.
Usually we went to lunch, then to Wegman’s to get the essentials of Christmas: sausage and bread crumbs and apples for stuffing, walnuts and raisins for waldorf salad, and a 12-pack of Cokes for the eldest boy. And a bunch of other stuff.
But on this occasion Dad was using a cane and had some Christmas shopping to do. So we went to the mall and tag-team shopped. I took some of the list and brought things back to Dad. We got everything on Dad’s list and made our way back to stately Wentworth Manor.
This doesn’t sound like much, and I guess it isn’t. But my Dad was a pillar of strength as long as I can remember…he retired early due to a hip injury but he was still that strong presence. He moved me in to my new Nebraska apartment in 1998, moving box after box up three flights of stairs.
So on this day, Christmas shopping, it was nice to be able to lighten his load. My parents have been so kind and supportive, despite their sonny boy’s weird dream of being a disc jockey. There is no way to repay that. So I’ve had to just tell them as much as possible how grateful I am.
Nice stories of my pal.