Christmas In The Dining Room

Thanks to Dad's amazing skill as a builder, we had an enormous dining room where all the family would gather for Sunday and holiday dinners. The room was big enough that we only needed to move one chair to accommodate a huge Christmas tree. The dining room was Christmas Central, serving many purposes...

I remember seeing Grandma Bessie sitting at the dining room table slicing Maraschino cherries to decorate Mom's Krispy Nutty Cookies. Her fingers would get stained Maraschino red!

I remember my brother and I playing our Bing Crosby's Merry Christmas album every day, morning, noon and night for about a month before Christmas on the stereo which was in that dining room.

I remember my sister Patricia painting poinsettias and candles on the front dining room windows.

I remember Dad stringing those strands of huge night-light sized bulbs on the tree, and using language he usually reserved for his workshop frustrations when they inevitably got tangled, or wouldn't work!

I remember the ornaments, beautiful and shiny and fragile...Pulling them out of the boxes each year was like visiting old friends. I am proud to have a few of my favorites from the family tree in our own collection today. I'm especially fond of the delicate ball of pale blue fading into white which reads Silent Night.

I remember a little village of houses with lightbulbs inside that we would set up under the tree. The tiny Christmas scene was completed with an "ice skating rink" made of a piece of broken mirror sprinkled with fake snow and populated by tiny skaters.

I remember the piano in the dining room. My sister Patricia played the best, and I remember singing Christmas carols with the family while she played. My sister Judy was fond of composing her own parodies of the classics, including, "walking in our Winter underwear," (Winter Wonderland) and "there is no water 'cause there is no well." (The First Noel) I hear your groans...I do! But it's not every family who can boast a "Weird Judy Yankovic...!"

I remember the big Christmas Eve parties in the dining room when we would get all dressed up. One year Mom sewed all us girls red or green velour dresses...très élégante! Mine was emerald green with white lace sleeves. Mom would always prepare a scrumptious buffet feast. After dinner, Santa would visit and pass out a gift to everyone! Most years, the suit was filled by "Buck" the husband of one of Mom's co-workers. (It occurs to me right this moment that with a name like that, he sounded more like a reindeer!) One memorable year, though, my extremely shy soon-to-be brother-in-law, Skip, begrudgingly filled in. He was so nervous that he was encouraged to have a belt - or five - of Christmas cheer before emerging from the basement. Santa was particularly jolly that year!

I remember the year that Santa must have run out of wrapping paper, because he left my big stack of Disney records on a dining room chair in the corner, next to the stereo.

I remember leaving Santa his cookies and milk on the dining room table. Once I could read, he would borrow my mom's favorite black felt-tipped pen and leave me a note on that table. Santa's note would thank me for being such a good girl and tell me how proud he was to bring me these gifts. That was also where I would write my thank you note to Santa, also borrowing Mom's felt-tipped marker...

Now to wrap up this collection of memories from long ago, I will leave you with my most romantic Christmas memory...

I remember this scene from the dining room. It was an evening like tonight, very close to Christmas. Most of the lights in the house were turned off so we could bask in the glimmer of the outdoor and indoor Christmas lights. This particular moment, I came be-bopping through the kitchen toward the dining room. I came to a screeching halt when I saw my sister Peggy and her fiancé Skip sitting at the dining room table. They were on Winter break from college and had just become engaged. I saw them simply sitting quietly in the warm Christmas glow while playing a board game at the table. They just looked so happy, and peaceful, and in love... I instinctively knew that this was not a situation that would welcome a nine-year-old kid, so I scurried away.

My mind took a snapshot of that moment, though. In large part that scene comprises my definition of the sublime serenity of Christmas as a time to appreciate those people and experiences we hold most dear.

Christmastime is when we give ourselves that gift of time to celebrate what is good in our lives.

That is my wish for everyone on Earth.

Mele Kalikimaka!