Christmas Past, Present,Future it’s all about the ghosts

December 18, 2009 at 3:29 PM (Uncategorized) ()

What to do, when neither funds, nor merry friends are around for the holiday…

Dust off some of the old ones.

1968? or so?

I was jealous.  She had a walking doll…and I did not.

I’m not a ‘good sport’  I don’t share well… I was  prickly and guarded and territorial, even at age seven…but my cousin was made of freindly and open, and she did….very different attitude.  We hid under my grandparents big table while it was getting full of food…and played with her doll.  because I was getting prickly and guarded and territorial, even at age seven…And my mother was mortified, because there *was* a walking doll. Waiting at the next house….

1977.  It’s morning.  Before ten, so while  the presents were opened, myself and my parents were still nightgowned, robed and pajama’ ed.

And a copper Olds Cutlass pulled very unexpectedly into my driveway…the one driven by the barely seen boyfriend.   In fact, this would be the last time I’d see him until 1985. (It wasn’t meant to be set up that way, just happened…)

My Gawd!  The boyfriend….! Cover, cover brush brush, clean the glasses….brush the teeth.

I was fumfu’d.  I said nothing coherent. Neither did he. We were annoyed that my parents were there, but nothing to be done about that…  (Turns out that was kinda a pattern for later moments alone,  but we didn’t know that. )   He handed me a copy of Tolkien’s “The Silmarillion, inscribed with his best wishes and “Christmas 1977.” I still have it, though the jacket is long gone.  It had both sentimental value and practical usage.  From 1977 until 1982 or so, no one would believe I had had a boyfriend (the old ‘gimps don’t have boyfriends,’ thing.)..I’d pull the book out and say “Does this LOOK like my handrwriting?”

1979. The Western Reserve Historical Society — all Dickensian that year….I had achieved Chamber Choir…this was not the big sloppy seventy voices, but the elite sixteen. Four each of bass, soprano,alto…and it was a necessity

because in high school, being a good tenor was still risking the ‘sissy’ label if you were a guy…two guy tenors and two girl tenors, of which I was one.

The auditions were tough, the venues were cooler….all standing on a staircase in royal blue (with obnoxious white collars on the dresses – – Yuck) …but it was the standard carols…above, behind and beside and around the tourists…someone suggested I raise myself up on my crutches and shout “God Bless Us Every One!” I smacked them with a crutch and declined…

Any Christmas at my aunt’s house.  TV Christmases really do exist.  They happen.  They’re at my aunt’s house (and no I won’t tell where, otherwise too many party crashers would show up. ) They’re not wacky dysfunctional Christmases where the guests use the time to explain how they’ve always hated each other.  Nope.  It’s the  Waltons, or Little House, or Leave it to Beaver.

No. Grinches. Allowed.  Great food, great music, great stories (and all because I just couldn’t wait to go to the movies one year, ) a partial desertion of the family table by several suspiciously sci-fi loving guests… at the end of the night if the movie was work seeing….And Christmas will come there,  even if I cannot.

God bless those Christmases.  Every one.

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