Christmas at the little house on Third Street was a grand occassion. The windows blinked with red, green, blue and yellow bulbs and strands of garland were laced throughout the house. Everything had been cleaned and shined to get ready for the big day. You could taste the sweet anticipation of the holidays.
Christmas Eve belonged to Nana. She spent weeks preparing - baking batches of homemade chocolate cookies, decorating and shopping. Nana always made orange juice punch and poured in a smattering of homemade wine. It was the only day of the year that the children were allowed a tiny nip. All the candy dishes in her house were full of treats and, as part of the celebration, the kids were allowed to help themselves.
Christmas Eve dinner consisted of Nana's version of a traditional Lithuanian fair - kielbasa, pierogies with butter and onions (my favorite), ham, green beans, fish (no one liked the fish soup except me, Theresa and Nana), and oatmeal cookies and cakes for dessert. You needed at least 13 types of dishes on the table - representing the apostles and Jesus. Before dinner Dad would say grace and pass around the Christmas wafer - an unleavened bread that resembled the communion wafers from church. Then Nana would raise her glass and say “Here’s to a good year and hoping that we’re all here again next year.” Nana gave the same toast every year until she passed away in 1992.
After dinner the kids opened gifts from Nana. But we had to wait until Christmas morning to open presents from Mom and Dad and Santa. Sometimes Nana had homemade gifts, like hand-sown dresses or knitted slippers. Other times she gave us store bought gifts like jewelry or clothes. One year Nana knitted each of us little dolls dressed in blue and white cheer leading out fits. Mine had blonde hair. I always cherished most the things that Nana made herself and I still have the doll.
One Christmas Eve, after Mom tucked us into bed, I couldn't sleep as the butterflies danced in my tummy. The anticipation of the next day was too much. Tina and I sneaked out of bed, peeked out the window and searched for Santa’s sleigh among the stars in the winter sky. Eventually I drifted off and dreamed of the wonders the morning would bring. Tina woke with the sun. She shook Theresa and then me. The three of us scrambled into Mom and Dad’s room at six a.m. and bounced on their bed to wake them. Dad called Nana so she could sit with Mom and Dad around the Christmas tree while the kids tore open their gifts.
Christmas Eve dinner consisted of Nana's version of a traditional Lithuanian fair - kielbasa, pierogies with butter and onions (my favorite), ham, green beans, fish (no one liked the fish soup except me, Theresa and Nana), and oatmeal cookies and cakes for dessert. You needed at least 13 types of dishes on the table - representing the apostles and Jesus. Before dinner Dad would say grace and pass around the Christmas wafer - an unleavened bread that resembled the communion wafers from church. Then Nana would raise her glass and say “Here’s to a good year and hoping that we’re all here again next year.” Nana gave the same toast every year until she passed away in 1992.
After dinner the kids opened gifts from Nana. But we had to wait until Christmas morning to open presents from Mom and Dad and Santa. Sometimes Nana had homemade gifts, like hand-sown dresses or knitted slippers. Other times she gave us store bought gifts like jewelry or clothes. One year Nana knitted each of us little dolls dressed in blue and white cheer leading out fits. Mine had blonde hair. I always cherished most the things that Nana made herself and I still have the doll.
One Christmas Eve, after Mom tucked us into bed, I couldn't sleep as the butterflies danced in my tummy. The anticipation of the next day was too much. Tina and I sneaked out of bed, peeked out the window and searched for Santa’s sleigh among the stars in the winter sky. Eventually I drifted off and dreamed of the wonders the morning would bring. Tina woke with the sun. She shook Theresa and then me. The three of us scrambled into Mom and Dad’s room at six a.m. and bounced on their bed to wake them. Dad called Nana so she could sit with Mom and Dad around the Christmas tree while the kids tore open their gifts.
Mom and Dad tried to hide from us how poor we were. That year, Dad had been laid off from his construction job. Money was really tight now. So Mom collected all the change in the house and managed to scrape together $20 to buy presents for the kids. That year, Santa brought me a doll with red hair wearing a navy blue dress. I remember a baby carriage and a sled. And there was a fort to put together - with cowboy and Indian figurines. I liked the little farmhouse best because it had a chestnut horse and a caramel colored horse, and a red and white tin barn with plastic split rail fences to build a corral.
It turns out that Mom bought all our presents with $20 at a second hand store. But I don’t think Santa brought anything for Mom and Dad that year. After Theresa, Tina and I opened our gifts, and the living room was buried in an avalanche of wrapping paper, we hugged and kissed Mom and Dad and said, “This is the best Christmas ever.”
It turns out that Mom bought all our presents with $20 at a second hand store. But I don’t think Santa brought anything for Mom and Dad that year. After Theresa, Tina and I opened our gifts, and the living room was buried in an avalanche of wrapping paper, we hugged and kissed Mom and Dad and said, “This is the best Christmas ever.”
And it was.
2 comments:
Awesome... and you know - this is still true... kids need precious little to be happy. Even today. Usually they just need our time and attention...
Amen to that.
Post a Comment