The Voice of Treason

Remembrances of Christmases Past, Part 1

Writing by treason on Monday, 26 of December , 2005 at 1:46 pm

Every year it’s the same. It doesn’t feel like Christmas, but then, at the last minute, inevitably, the spirit kicks in. This year was a little different: the spirit never quite fully kicked in, but it turned out okay. I made a fabulous dinner and my mother had a nice day. WGN repeated the Bozo, Gar & Ray special, so I sat her down in front of the TV and hoped that it would stimulate some memory. It did - for about two minutes. She decided that watching me cook was more interesting.

T put her to work peeling potatoes. I protested, thinking she’d cut herself, but he assured me that she’d be fine and she was. Then he sat her down with photo albums with lots of pictures of dogs from her past. Last Christmas I sat in the emergency room with her. This holiday was much better.

And really that’s all I can ask for. Was I disappointed that George Bush didn’t make a trip to Iraq? Not really. Seeing Rumsfeld distributing lobster tails to the troops scratched that itch. But I do expect him to go there once an Iraqi government is in place.

Anyway, the WGN special might not have stimulated much memory in my mother, but it certainly got me thinking a lot about my childhood and past Christmases. I’ve been thinking a lot about Chicago lately and I have an urge to visit. For years I had a recurring dream: I was walking to school, going past houses and apartment buildings I’d passed a million times, and it was always so real. Chicago. It’s my kind of town.

So I can’t help think about how awful it was when my mother moved us to Prescott, Arizona. It’s sketchy, but our last Christmas in Chicago was minimal. We were preparing to move, so it didn’t make sense to have a big holiday. I will always remember this one, though, because of Norma and Jim. They were an older couple who loved to go to the restaurant where my mother worked. They’d wait for a table in her section to open up just so they could visit with her. Again, we lived in a Jewish neighborhood, and Norma and Jim were Jews.

And, knowing that we were going to have a small holiday because we were packing up and leaving the city, they invited us to their home to celebrate Christmas. Norma cooked a traditional Christmas dinner and wrapped, in beautiful Christmas paper, three gifts for us. She decorated a tree especially for me. We decided to call it a Hanukkah bush, but I couldn’t help think that her creation of a Christmas for us was one of the most generous and kind things I’d ever known. She had bought for my mother, sister, and me beautiful leather purses. In fact, I’m thinking I might still have the purse because it was in my closet in my stepfather’s house when I was in high school and college, still in pristine condition. I know I moved some of my purse collection to my mother’s house after college…I just wonder if it’s here or if it was left behind. Proof that a good handbag can last decades. And these were all well-made and very well selected. My sister and I carried ours for years. (My mother was never big on purses. She only used one to carry tips home from work. When she stopped waiting tables, I never again saw her with a handbag.)

What a nice thing for them to do, I kept thinking to myself. Why would anyone go through so much trouble to celebrate a holiday that they really don’t celebrate? These are such good people. So thoughtful.

It might have been a small gesture on their part, but it’s one I will never forget.

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