REMEMBERING CHRISTMASES LONG, LONG AGO

There is something about childhood and Christmas, at least for me there was. It was about family togetherness. Christmas Eve was when we would all gather for the celebration with my mom's side of the family. There was always a huge meal, extended family and friends would be there. It was, as I recall, about as perfect as a Christmas could possibly be. It was a time of togetherness and love, in spite of whatever dysfunctionality there may have been. It was a far more simple time. It was a happy time. It just seemed like Christmas is "supposed" to be. Christmas Day was generally always spent with my dad's side of the family. We'd eat another big meal, exchange gifts and usually having a hymn sing-a- long, commonly referred to as "pickin' and grinnin'".

That was then. This is now. The times have changed, the people have changed. Some of those who made the holidays so special are no longer living. Those of us who remain are all older now. Time has changed us, too. The family dynamics aren't what they once were. There have been marriages, divorces, deaths and the birth of a different generation. The family friends who would join us all have families of their own now. My young cousins are now adults with spouses of their own. I have come out as a gay man and moved away after college. My last fond Christmas memory was twenty years ago. Something truly changed after Christmas of 1987. Yet, I do not know what.

Here's my confession: Once a time of great expectation and anticipation, the holiday season is now just a time of dread and a source of fatigue. I, myself, haven't been home for Christmas in over five years. I haven't spoken to my mother in nearly two of those years. Celebrating Christmas seems merely an obligation now, rather than the images a Norman Rockwell painting might evoke. Putting up the Christmas Tree was once an activity which was looked forward to ,but is now just another chore on the already too long list of things to prepare for this "most joyous of seasons". It's hard to remember what truly giving a gift from the heart felt like. And those dreadful holiday songs! They are like love songs with a holiday theme. They evoke images of fantasies and fiction. When, honestly, was the last time you went gliding in a one-horse open sleigh? Exactly. Never, and neither have I. I've experienced the occasional White Christmas, if you want to call it that. Maybe I should try looking at Christmas through the innocence of a child's eyes, rather than my jaded and tired adult eyes. Maybe, just maybe, the wonder and merriment would return.

REMINISCENCES

Driving this morning, the air was different, the scenery changing. It dawned upon me that it is October. Although the thermometer may not have gotten the memo here in Alabama, it is fall. Fall has always been one of my favorite times of the year because it conjures up fond memories of times spent with my grandparents as a child. I had the great fortune to know all of my grandparents and three of my four great grandparents. I have already written about the relationship I had with my maternal grandmother. I wouldn't be where I am today without that relationship. But it was my time with Doskie, my maternal great grandmother, which had such a profound impact on my life. As a child, it was Doskie who was perhaps my best friend and confidant. She and I would take long walks in the woods together. Those long walks were such an adventure for me and I think it helped keep her young, too. We were peas in a pod. She shared with me so many family secrets...many which I'll never repeat.

I would spend as much time with her as possible. Weekends, school holidays, summer vacations. I suppose she was a "cheap" babysitter. Yet, I'm not sure who was there to babysit. I think we were there for one another. She was 63 years my senior, but we were there, in essence, to watch one another. I was always given instructions of what I was to do if she was in need of medical attention. I think we identified with one another so well. She was an only child, too. I think she knew the loneliness I felt.

Winter, Spring, Summer and Fall. I have memories of them all. But, as I go through life, it will be the memories of long nature walks and family chats with Doskie which I will carry with me. It is the taste her cornbread (made the old-fashioned way, with lard), her fried potatoes, her beef roast that I'll cherish. It is the memory of locking her out of her house while I sent her to get the mail and decorated her house for her birthday—after, of course, I had her make her own birthday cake. It is the carolers from the local churches who would serenade us at Christmas and deliver a fresh basket of fruits and nuts that will resonate in my head. It is falling asleep well before midnight on New Year's Eve, but having a celebration, just the two of us. It is the sound of her nightly gossip sessions on the telephone with her friends from yesteryear, her profound faith in God, though she didn't really go to church, her example, that helped mold me. It is my first Bible that I will forever cherish, for it came from her. It is making preparations for our large family (and extended family) Christmases, Thanksgivings and other gatherings that still linger in my mind.

Here's my confession: I didn't see my great grandmother the last few years of her life. She was moved to a nursing home. I couldn't bear the thought of seeing her in that environment. I did write a letter to her about a year or so before she died, and she wrote me back. While I didn't visit her in person, I think I visited her in her dreams, for in her mind, it seemed that I had just been for a visit. That brings me some comfort. I wonder, was I "there" with her as she peacefully went to sleep that night and woke up in the presence of her Lord? In so many ways, she knew me best, but in others, she never had the chance. I wonder, would she be proud of me today? Would she accept the person that I am? I have to believe that she knew certain things about me long before I did. I have to believe that she's somewhere out there, looking down on me, with a smile.