posted on December 2, 2001 02:43:12 AM
I had occassion to reminisce recently about one of my favorite Christmas stories. Maybe others would enjoy it, maybe you had to be there, maybe someone would like to share one...
Long long ago, when I was a kid, we lived next door to a guy named Vinny McDonald and his family, including his mother, whom they and we called "Nana."
Nana was one of these old ladies who's nothing but softness and wrinkles and a little wispy white hair. The closest you'd be able to figure her age would be between 80 and 209.
One year, we had them over to our place for a little Christmas get together, not really formal enough to be called a party. A little drinking, some Christmas music, stuff like that.
So my sister was changing the album, and she leaned down to Nana and said (or shouted, really.. the room was small, people were laughing, the music was playing, and Nana was a bit hard of hearing...)
"Nana, how about a little 'Adeste Fidelis?' "
And Nana replied "Okay, dearie... but a little less water this time."
I remember fondly one Christmas where we were all sitting around the table eating our Christmas meal. My step-mother was sitting next to my brother-in-law. Things seemed to be going well when suddenly step-mother passed out [from drinking her Christmas cheer] and her head landed in my brother-in-laws lap. He was both stunned and delighted.
Then there was the Christmas when the same step-mother had a bit too much Christmas cheer and was standing right in front of me telling me some wonderous Christmas story when she suddenly fell straight backwards and hit the floor.Passed out again.
posted on December 2, 2001 03:21:27 PM
I grew up in a poor family. One Christmas, I was so happy that my Dad gave me a pair of ice skates for Christmas.
Then,over 50 years later when he was dying, he told me, "I got those silver ice skates for you. Didn't I?" Well, it just floored me to realize how difficult it must have been for him to afford those skates. He gave me so much more than skates but this is what he remembered.
posted on December 2, 2001 09:20:44 PM
Hehe. She sure did, Antiquary. I love y'all's stories... Here's another one, from around the same time...
It was custom of the grownups, my mother, father, sister (who's quite a bit older than I am), and my sister's longtime boyfriend to open their presents on Christmas Eve at midnight. I'd stay up and watch, but had to wait for Santa on Christmas morning.
One Christmas Eve, my mother gave my sister's boyfriend an envelope as his present. My mother was clearly anticipating his delight at what was inside... he opened it, looked, blanched, mumbled a hurried "thanks," and stuffed it in his pocket... disappointing my mother, and mystifying everyone.. and of course they all began to ask him - "What is it, what did you get??"
He took them out of his pocket sheepishly and showed them - two tickets, one for him, one for my sister, to the (then) new, and very popular, Broadway show "Sleuth."
On seeing them my father let out a colorful expletive, my sister turned on her boyfriend with a murderous look in her eye, and both my sister and my father yelled at my mother - "Where did you get those??" to which my poor mother, still mystified, replied "I just went to the box office and bought them, why?"
It turned out that tickets to "Sleuth" had been my father's thought of a present to my mother. He had given the task of buying them to my sister's boyfriend, and my sister's poor boyfriend had tried in vain to get tickets.. he couldn't even find a scalper who had tickets... the last thing he wanted to find in that envelope were those tickets.. he would have rather eaten them than shown them around.
I think my father was going on about those G*D* tickets all through Christmas the next day.
posted on December 2, 2001 09:42:42 PM
God, my childhood Christmases were dull. If you keep up the old traditions, donny, can I come to your house for Christmas this year?
posted on December 2, 2001 10:36:25 PM
You'd be welcome, Antiquary but, sad to say, Christmasses aren't as fun as they used to be. My mother, father, my brother-in-law (sister's boyfriend in my story), all passed away now... they were much more fun than I am.
The only tradition I keep is the edict that it's bad luck not to have the tree down by St. Patrick's day. So, like my father, I always take it down by around the end of February (whether it's ready to come down or not).
Of course, by then, the thing is pretty dern sad looking, and you're sick of having it around, so you grab all the lights off and ball them up and stuff them in a paper sack, to get this over with.
This post-Christmas tradition is integrally tied to the pre-Christmas tradition of cursing and growling and snarling at the other members of your family during the tree-trimming day, and it takes all day, because the lines of Christmas tree lights are hopelessly knotted and entangled with each other.
Then you swear - "Never again!" but the experience has been so bad that you're loathe to touch the tree again.. until, by the end of February, you can't stand to look at it anymore, so you grab all the lights off, ball them up, and stuff them in a paper sack.
posted on December 2, 2001 10:38:03 PM
My Mom was a very special person and she was BIG on Christmas and all it's traditions.
When I was quite young and really into the notion of Jolly 'ole Santa and all the magic that went with it, my younger sister, who was already showing signs of having more snap than me, told me that she didn't think that Santa existed! She had reasoned it all out. We didn't have snow, how could Santa come to a place with no snow???? We didn't have a chimney and our Mom locked our house up each night tighter than Ft. Knox!!! I didn't want to consider she was right, but she had made some pretty good points. So we went to bed early on Christmas Eve with nothing under the tree (as usual). We woke up early Christmas morning (as usual) and ran to the living room expecting to find mountains of brightly wrapped packages (also usual-my Mom loved Christmas giving). Instead we found a bare floor!!! The cookies and milk we had left were still sitting there untouched! I was in shock...confused, trying to figure it all out...Then my Mom and Dad entered the room, my sister was squalling and I was just standing there gawking. The look on my Mom's face was one of pure horror! She threw her hand up to her mouth and gasped loudly..."Oh! No!!! I must have forgotten to unlock the door before going to bed!" She hurried over to the door and sure enough it was locked. My sister and I were right on her heels. She messed with the door (seemed to have trouble getting the darn thing unlocked), finally got it open and as she stepped out on the porch, she let out a sigh of releif, putting her hand on her heart and smiling the sweetest smile. My sister and I poked our heads out the door and there on the porch all stacked in a neat pile was our glorious mountain of brightly wrapped presents! I needed no further proof that Santa did indeed exist and we had come very close to missing him.
When I had my own child, I had entered a period in my life where I was determined to get back to basics and not going overboard on silliness (how soon we forget our joys as children and how sadly). I am afraid my son will not have the same fond memories as I did. We celebrated Christmas without all the hoopla. I didn't refuse to allow Santa, but he was kept in the background and greatly limited. When my son was in the 1st grade, I worked for our local paper in the composing department. We were putting together the annual Christmas addition with all the letters to Santa. The schools had delivered the piles of letters and we had to quickly go through and get them ready to print. I heard some chuckling from one of the girls and she picked up a letter and began to read it outloud: "Dear Santa-I would like a ToysRUs Store or you can just bring me a check for a million dollars and I'll get my own and save you the work." It was from my son!
edited to try and correct the mistakes ...ignore those I missed please.
[ edited by sulyn1950 on Dec 3, 2001 02:14 PM ]
posted on December 3, 2001 12:46:36 AM
When I was about 7 or so I was writing my letter to hand to the elves at the Christmas parade. I finished mine and had some time left so I thought to be funny I would write another one for someone else ... you see, Santa answered all the letters with a quick note to each child if you included your address.
Well, I got tired of listing things so I wrote, "For Christmas I want many things but the thing I want most is for everyone to have a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year."
Parade day came and went ... and then I got the paper the next morning. There it was ... right at the top of the front page ... a picture of my letter ...
The headline .... And little Inzie's letter said it best of all ....
posted on December 3, 2001 12:11:19 PM
My mother (now in her 70's) is from Minnesota, so Christmas for her is sleigh bells, snow, lots of it, hot apple cider, snow, heavy coats, snow angels and more snow. Her first year as a married bride in the military took her to the south. She was working in a clerical office, and at Christmas time, she was lamenting about how it just didn't seem like Christmas. AFter all, it was around 70 degrees outside and not a snowflake to be seen.
(for this next part, the reader must imagine a heavy southern accent on the part of the speaker)
Her co-worker, tired of her whining, said, "Well, I can't imagine where y'all got the idea that Jesus was born in a snowstorm".
[ edited by Valleygirl on Dec 3, 2001 12:21 PM ]
posted on December 3, 2001 08:50:26 PM
When I was very young, my military Dad was home, so it was already special. He played Santa around the neighborhood (I didn't even know this Santa character and I was afraid of him holding me) I realized it was him when he picked me up and I saw under that fake beard. He carried me around for the longest time and was so happy...it was my best Christmas ever. (Dad's been gone a long time now, so I always remember this when it's Christmas tyme).
posted on December 4, 2001 12:28:18 PM
I suppose the most memorable Christmas presents were from our old tabby cat. He was a great mouser and one particularly frigid winter we had an abundant supply of prey. He left us two offerings among the presents which we found on Christmas morning. It was thoughtful of him to think of both of us and to place his gifts where they would have maximum impact.
posted on December 4, 2001 12:37:37 PM
Saabsister.Must you bring cats into every thread? It's not all about cats you know.
How dare you try to derail Donnys thread like that!
MOD-ER-AT-OR!!!!Saabsister is derailing threads again! Make her stop!
posted on December 4, 2001 12:57:23 PM
Just because she may be a cat person does not mean she can play favorites and shirk her duties. I demand that you be handily dealt with.
You are offending my well known delicate sensibilities. I won't have it.
posted on December 4, 2001 01:33:23 PM
Yes, it's called The UDOI Method. Use Diplomacy Or Ignore Method. The moderator has 2 choices, ignore the stuff you don't feel like talking about, and use diplomacy for the posts you don't mind discussing. It's a copyrighted method, anyone who uses it the rest of the week must pay me royalties.
Of course if UDOI Method fails me, I can always turn to the alternate method BOC2, affectionately called BOC-BOC. That stands for Bring out Chucky & Bride of Chucky from the closet. Then you just turn them loose on the errant posters.
posted on December 5, 2001 03:09:57 AM
Love y'alls Christmas stories, but Sulyn, your sounds kind of mean
I was just watching a trailer for an old version of Dickens' "A Christmas Carol," and the trailer showed the scene that this story is concerned with, reminding me of it.
This was before my time, when my sister was young, but it's part of our family lore...
One year, her Jr. High staged "A Christmas Carol." She had some minor part, so my mother and brother were in the audience to see the fun.
Early in the story, Scrooge is visited by the ghost of his partner, Jacob Marley, to introduce the 3 ghosts who will take Scrooge on his nighttime journey. Marley's ghost makes a dramatic entrance, clanking chains, etc., scaring Scrooge, who stammeringly asks this frightening visage "Who are you??"
Marley's ghost is supposed to reply "Ask me who I was." (Scrooge will comply by asking "Who were you then?" leading to the explanation that he's the ghost of Scrooge's partner, blah blah).
Marley must've drawn a blank though. When Scrooge asked him "Who are you??" Marley replied (naturally enough, really) "I'm Marley, who are you??"
Faced with this unexpected enquiry into his own identity, Scrooge was surprised into confused silence, while the whole audience roared.
...ignore those I missed please. 