We started a new tradition on Christmas this year. Well, actually, we introduced our children to an old tradition that was started by my Grandma B. back when I was a child.Christmas in my heart will always be back at my Grandparents’. My dad was one of seven siblings, so it was a very full house with our numbers growing each year as more and more grandchildren and then great grandchildren were added to the clan. But no matter how crowded, there was always room for all – including space for anyone who didn’t have a place to go for Christmas. Everyone was welcomed as family.
I fondly remember my Grandma's expansive dinner buffet that spread across two rooms and several tables. We had to use the big lunchroom-style plates with several compartments to hold all the food, but still the styrofoam started bending with the weight of it all about halfway through the line. Among the many delicious dishes, my grandma’s famous cheesy yellow beans were always there, as were every kind of cookie and jello salad imaginable. It was a child’s dream dinner!
At the end of the table my grandma had a cup set out for each and every person on which she wrote our names in her messy hand. Deciphering which cup belonged to who was always part of the fun. But the best part was filling those cups with the sweet red drink from her beautiful punch bowl. It was the kind of punch made with Hawaiian Punch, Sprite and sherbet, with a ring of frozen fruit floating in the middle. When one ring would melt away it was quickly replaced with another that my Grandma had all ready to go in the freezer.
Oh the punch! That was not the tradition we carried over this year, but I am thinking that it needs to start next year. Every child should have punch at Christmas! And lucky me – I have my grandma’s punch bowl to serve it in. It was given to me when my Grandma’s house was sold three years ago when she could no longer live alone. When the Alzheimer’s finally got too bad. But I won’t let that nasty disease interfere with my memories of Christmas at Grandma’s...
The special tradition that we passed on to our children this year was what happened after Christmas dinner at my Grandma’s. After we had filled every room of the house for a sit-down meal at folding tables covered with table cloths, of course all of us children were drawn to the mounds of gifts stacked as tall as the tree in the corner of the living room. But, no, we had to wait. We had to earn our presents. While the adults cleaned up the dishes, we were sent away to the basement to plan our annual Christmas show. The only rule was that everyone had to participate.
Some of us came prepared with Christmas songs practiced on our clarinet or violin, but most of us collaborated on the spot and made up funny dances or holiday skits to perform together. It is the memory of that time in the basement with my cousins that I cherish most of all. It’s the kind of time that family is all about. As the mother of seven, Grandma knew what she was doing!
When the last dish was done and the final table was folded and stored away, the kids were finally called up from the basement to show off our stuff using my Grandma’s special microphone. She always sat right up front and recorded every detail. Man, I wish I had the tapes of those shows. We earned a lot of applause and even a few happy tears every year. And, of course, our gifts.
So, this year after Christmas brunch at my parents’ house, my kids didn't get to go directly to the presents. We all moved into the living room to watch my oldest daughter play Jingle Bells on the piano while the younger two shook bells and danced. It was the perfect way for them to honor the memory of their Great Grandma, who succumbed to Alzheimer’s earlier this month at the age of 85. I’m glad she was free from the disease this Christmas so she could enjoy that special performance of Jingle Bells. It was just for her.
