enya727's Journal

I am from a huge family.  Unfortunately I moved away when I was 18 for 8 years and again for the second time at the age of 28.  Basically, I grew up in a Waltonesque type home in New England.  Thinking that what my family life was that of everyone. 

My mother was a brilliant pianist who gave up all hopes of becoming a star when she married my father, a navy man in 1924.  They had 11 children each of whom she expected would be the next Shirley Temple.  My mother was a shrew, we never did anything right and unbeknownst to the individual she was reprimanding at the time, she would hold up that child the others as a living example of perfection to the reprimandee. She was only at peace in two situations, when she was holding a baby in her arms or playing her piano. Dad was a happy alcoholic, however he was the positive influence in our lives.  He worshiped our mother and all of his children.  He was playful and sweet.  They balanced out the picture.

Despite their flaws,  holidays were joyful gatherings.  You have to realize one thing,  my eldest brother would have been 30 years older than me if he had survived infancy.  The next eldest is 29 years older than me.  She was born in 1925 and I was born in 1954.  My mother was 48 when she had me and Dad was 54.  But back to holidays.  We always had a house full on weekends but on holidays everyone  came home.  Mom would decorate for every holiday and for Christmas the decorations would go up the first weekend after Thanksgiving. There were candles in every window, a yule log one of my brothers had selected and made from a birch tree with 3 holes for candles, and garlands strung throughout the house.  The tree was a family process.  Dad always did the lights and everyone helped put the ornaments on.  Mom would start cooking days in advance.  The aromas that filled the house would bring back memories of Christmases past and heighten our anticipation.  Homemade pies and fudge, and the giant 26 or larger turkey thawing in the sink.  Finally, stockings were hung, presents were all wrapped and (number 10) my sister and I waited for everyone to come home.  Christmas was a dysfunctional Norman Rockwell painting.  Five grown children, 5 spouses and their assorted 20 children in tow were all coming home.  

The stockings were opened first, then breakfast, then we were dressed in our Sunday best and our beds were made, ready foer Momma's inspection.  We would start the tree presents and slowly our other family members would start trickling in.  Martha (#10) would have to help mom in the kitchen and I was responsible for entertaining and corraling the 20 kids that were older than me, my age, and younger than me (and I thought this was normal).  We would all bundle up and go out in the snow to build forts and snowman, snow angels and have snowball fights.  We'd sled and play outside until we were soaked and almost frozen.

The adults sat at the dining table and the children at the kitchen table, a cacophony of conversation.  Dinner, the likes of a Dickens' Christmas Carol, was heaven.  There was turkey, squash, boiled onions, carrots, mashed potatoes, gravy and stuffing.  And when we were all so stuffed we couldn't hope to move we would slowly make our way to Momma's side at the piano and sing until we couldn't sing anymore in well blended 5 part harmony. My sister Martha and one or two of the older grandchildren would all do the dishes.  There was a lot of spiritual bonding.  Supper would be leftovers and/or pie.  The adults would play cribbage or canasta, while one by one the younger children would start drifting off to sleep, usually where they played.  Some would stay over night and some would be gathered up and quietly taken back to their homes. 

I miss my family at Christmas.  Their are only four of us remaining.  God has taken the rest to be with him.  My eldest sister is 83, she lives in Maine and she could probably out run me on my best day.  My brother is 79 and had his very first surgery last year, he also lives in Maine.  And #10, well she lives in New Hampshire she is 62 and is doing well.  I am here in Wisconsin, 54, and falling apart a piece at a time this month is my knee, LOL.

My family here consists of my significant other, the love of my life; a rather large, lovable, Marmaduke of a dog and two cats (we just added one); my two grown children who both live in Alabama; and my three beautiful grandchildren.  So, Christmas is a time filled with heartfilled whisps of memories and present day phone calls.

Merry Christmas, Happy Channukah, Happy Kwaanza and may Everyone have Blessed holidays.