Christmas was as dependable as sunrise when we were growing up. It never crossed my mind that everyone didn’t check the stockings, open presents and go to their grandmother’s to eat. It also didn’t occur that the menu never changed, only the people did. Because of this, individual Christmases could only be recognized by some oddity that marked the occasion.
We married, in our family, for better, worse and Christmas. On the 25th of December, it never occurred to anyone to not go mom’s house for lunch. We did not go when we were in Hawaii and Alaska, but that was considered to be excused. One child rebelled and decided to stay home and subsequently got a lot of grief about it.
It was like a trip to the past - a glimpse of the way life used to be. We maintained that illusion after Mom and Papa died and never changed the format appreciably. It was almost a ritual to show the children how things were once-upon-a-time. We spiffed up with suits for the men and dresses for the women, and we sent Mom and Mother corsages. Ola wore her black uniform with the white apron. It was an event worthy of the good china and the sterling silver.
Mom never served alcohol until the Episcopalians outnumbered the rest of us, and she consented to have a little sherry, which developed into happy hour to the delight and enjoyment of most of the non-Episcopalians as well. In later years, we rotated houses for the event, and I thought it a bit strange that everyone willingly bought a dish to the party, but the host was responsible for all the alcohol. All I could figure was that everyone assumed that everyone else maintained a fully stocked bar, and certainly by the time Christmas was over, that was true.
Presents were the featured activity until we had given everything to everybody. Then we drew names, which we hated. Once, we played Dirty Santa where a person opens any gift or can ‘steal’ an opened gift from another person. Unfortunately, our family was unfailingly polite, so no one stole anything at first.
Then my sister, who was sixth, decided to show everyone how it was done. She walked over and took three tin cans decorated with flowers. “What are you doing?” asked a bewildered Aunt Mary as the cans disappeared from her lap. “That’s how you play this,” explained Putzie. “You can open a gift or just take someone else’s.” “Well, that is the rudest thing I have ever heard of,” responded our aunt. The rest of the game progressed with each of us opening a gift and keeping it. A young adult son received a frilly picture frame which he begged everyone to ‘steal’. “You regifted my present?” was heard from down the room. It was NOT a pleasant Christmas diversion.
Papa’s three sisters always sent gifts for everyone. In those days, every man wore a regulation tie (red and blue diagonal stripes occasionally with a thin black or white stripe or even yellow - I am not making this up, look at the pictures). At least one Christmas gift was always a tie, so each recipient tore the paper of the familiar shaped box with enthusiasm ranging from one to zero. One year the ties were a LITTLE DIFFERENT. Each one was a bright abstract, and as they were opened they seem to get brighter and gaudier.
Suddenly, one of the men laughed, and soon we were all in stitches as they began to compare gifts in order to discover the absolute worst. Here is the really funny part: the next Christmas brought a stack of very similar ties. Was Aunt Sue just “losing” it? Had she purchased a case of heavily discounted items? No one had the courage to ask.
When it was a small family, we opened the gifts one at a time. But, as we increased in number, several people opened their gifts at once. It still seemed normal to hear a shrill cry of “Oh, look,” when a particularly interesting present emerged from a box. So it was no surprise when the little five-year-old opened his gift and began with “Oh, look,” which of course we all did. And when he had everyone’s undivided attention, he added “Just what I didn’t want.”
Christmas is the time for family whether one you are born with or one you acquire. The old people are gone now, and so are our family dinners. But, on Christmas Day, we will each think of each other, scattered physically as we are, and the terrible ties will be one of the stories we will tell the little ones who will probably ask, “What is a tie?” Merry Christmas!
Marion Miles is a Northsider.
