A Christmas story.

Growing up in Great Falls Montana, I was one of those lucky children who got to be part of the best Christmas tradition ever. Our family was a good, Catholic family all living within a few city blocks from each other and always ready to come together for the holidays. Now even though not every one got along during the rest of the year, Christmas was special. My great-grandmother was the matriarch of our family and what she said was the law. This meant everyone was to attend, no excuses, and everyone was to be dressed for the occasion. This meant beautiful dresses for the ladies, ties and dinner jackets for the men and holiday cheer only. Any bad attitudes in attendance would hear about it from my Great-Grandmother and well, let’s just say no one wanted that. Her house was very small; 2 bedrooms, a kitchen filled with delft plates and cups, a living room, dining room and a basement with a small kitchen and a bathroom that always smelled like rose water. She raised 5 children in that house and for some reason despite the size on a normal day, the house seem to expand on Christmas. Now, for the reader I need you to soften your focus like in the movies from the fifties when the glow from the lights filled the room, where handsomely dressed people are drinking hot toddies and spirits and children are playing in every corner waiting for Santa’s arrival. There was more food then anyone could ever eat and the decorations were all glitter and grace, silver angels adorned the tree and the tinsel hung like ribbons of gold from the fresh cut bows. My grandmother and great-grandmother, even on in years, had the most amazing dresses. My grandmother had the smallest waist and I remember thinking even as a very young girl that she was so beautiful. Her and her sisters were like something out of Hollywood. My great uncle was always walking around, filming movies and making sure to capture everyone in techni-color. There would be laughter and the building of anticipation for the guest of honor. First came the bells, faint at first so you had to listen, then louder and a thump on the roof, then Santa would ring the door bell. He would come in with such a presence that every child, young and old, were captivated by him and more importantly, what treasure awaited for you from within the velvet bag he carried. We all would line up and take turns to tell him what was our heart’s desire and then magically it would be the very gift he had for you in the bag. He would depart making sure to say, “now go to sleep, no peeking, HO HO HO!!!” and off he would go, jingling all the way.

While the children were all happily playing with new toys and treasures, the adults would be laughing and chatting, swaying to Old-Blue Eyes rendition of “White Christmas” and all was right in the world. The men would eventually make their way down to the basement and smoke cigars and the ladies would begin to gossip and tidy-up the kitchen. The children would start to rub weary eyes and the magic of the holidays would wind down. We would all wish our many blessings to each other and head home to nestle children into beds. It was after such a night that I had the most magical moment ever. In fact, in my 36 years, I can not recall a more magical Christmas night.

This most magical Christmas was the Christmas night when my mother and I did my brother’s paper route still dressed in our holiday finest. It was 1:00 in the morning and here we were in our dresses and big snow boots, hats and gloves. There were no cars on the roads, only blankets of perfect snow, glistening in the light from the street lamps. Our dog Sophie, a cock-a-poo, trailing behind us collecting ice in her whiskers, transforming her from a black lap-dog to a some mythical creature in an instant, as we delivered the Christmas paper to all of our neighbors. I remember my mom and I laughing at the quiet of that night when the snow seemed to whisper under our feet, while the flakes of snow fell gently from the sky. We ran and danced in the snow and sang Christmas songs softly into the night. The decorations on the houses in our neighborhood seemed to sparkle like gemstones, emeralds and rubies and sapphires abounding. I felt like I was on the set of some movie and time had stood still as we walked through the snow. I remember how my mother looked in the lamp light with her dark, chestnut hair and and her long, velvet car-coat. She was the same age then as I am now and she was a stunner. I remember growing up and hearing stories about her when she was young, told to me by her dad, my granddad- how she rode motorcycles and raced powder-puff race cars, how she was a crack shot with a rifle and how men fought over her, my dad included. I remember thinking how could this graceful women do all those things and still seem like such a lady, but on that night I could see anything was possible. Time had stood still and the grace of the night had shone its light and love on my little piece of the world.

Being in Hawaii, away from all my family for the holidays seems strange to me. Stranger still is the sunny and 80-degrees, no snow in- sight, my mind has yet to wrap around the idea that yes, it is really December. I called my mom the other day to say how strange it is to have no snow this time of the year. Although it is many years later and we are gearing up for the holidays thousands of miles apart, my mom and I still recall this night with one of us saying, “remember that night” and it will transport us back to a time, long ago, to a Christmas like no other. We will laugh as we talk about the icicles on the dog and how silly it was to be out in our dresses, how beautiful everyone looked at Grandmother’s and how many years it has been since she left us. As happens, many of the players of that holiday have passed on and, with it, the loss of an era, yet the memories of this tradition is etched so deeply on our hearts that the mere thought brings tears to my eyes, softening the focus once again on the memories from so long ago. Those yester-year thoughts of Christmas, of families together, where sleigh bells ring, where the snow glistens, where we are happy, as we go walking in a winter wonderland..... I can not recall what gifts I received that year, but I can recall every sound, smell, taste and feeling of that magical night and that is the greatest gift of all.