The Laughing Wolf

Christmas 2005

This year is the first year since Dad has died that I have truly been into Christmas. Christmas is about family, and my fondest memories of Christmas are of Mom, Dad, Ralph, and I enjoying the time. Next year I shall endeavor to write of Christmas Eve, a special day, but for now only of the day.

We would get up and go into the living room and see what Santa had brought. Then came the stockings (both mine and the dog's), then the presents under the tree. The stockings contained a mixture of fruit, nuts, treats, and always had a dime in the toe for good luck. These were not, with the exception of Ralph's (the dog, aka Mutt, aka You Bloody Beagle), store-bought but rather old fashioned real stockings from before the Great Depression, upon which an initial was carefully sewn by the owner. While the store-bought were pretty and nice, the real stockings held a heck of a lot more...

We would have coffee (chocolate for me when younger), stollen, or other home-made delight to eat whilst we enjoyed it all. Sometimes the food was simple, family treats from when my parents were children, to more elaborate, but all made by hand with love. And occasional imprecations and invective in working the stollen dough... Then, it was a trip over to an Uncle's house for Christmas morning there, an exchange of gifts, and -- always -- egg nog. Then, it was back home to the madness that was the mandatory gathering of Mom's family and a huge dinner. Many years this was enjoyable, and a few years not so much. Things got much better after we broke the tradition a bit but kept the great get-together and feast.

To this day, I honestly can't remember if it was Christmas or Thanksgiving that Ralph ate the turkey intended for the feast. The stinker found it out on the counter and cleverly pulled it off and rolled backwards so that it came down on his chest and did not make a thud on the floor. A chunk was gone out of the bird when the deed was beagled out, and consternation hit. Ralph was sent out in gorged disgrace, and my parents tried to figure out what to do. Back then, the holiday meant no stores were open, and even had one been, the odds of them having a bird that large were next to nil. So, Mom scrubbed the area with Comet, and Dad wisely trimmed the area down. We roasted the bird, and then in a major break with tradition (noted by all), carved the turkey before everyone arrived. I forget the exact excuse used, but it worked.

The food for the feast was always plenty, and plenty good. It was the one time of the year we got some of the treats, and all made the most of it. It wasn't just the trypto that had us in a coma afterwards...

Yet, the memories that mean the most to me are of the first of the morning. It is the little tin bell that was always on the tree, and was one of the first I was allowed to put there. It is on my tree right now as I right this, along with the bird's nest and the glass pickle... It is of Dad with his cup of coffee, sleepy, grumpy in act and proud and happy in fact, in robe and pajamas. It is of Mom dressed in a bit more for cooking, expressing delight at some surprise. It is of the two of them on that old, formal sofa, underneath the portraits of Bishop Pierce (a X-great grandfather) and Miss Nancy, his wife. It is of Ralph investigating his stocking, knowing which one was his without coaxing. It is of Ralph trying to get out the sliding glass door with the long rawhide treat that hit both sides. It is of sitting on the cold wood floor or the bricks of the fireplace in my pajamas, bathed in the warm glow of love. It is of the two pair of jeans always under the tree, the pants that had to last me until next Christmas.

Yes, Christmas was special, and was both dreaded and loved by Mom. Dreaded for all the work (and expense), and loved for both the reward for the hard work and for the celebration of her faith. As the ovarian cancer ate away her insides, her wish was to make it to Christmas, to be home for Christmas. A woman of strong faith, it is my opinion that by her lights she was indeed home for Christmas when she left her shell behind 11 years ago this day. It made for a strange Christmas, but a surprisingly joyous one, for she was home and was free of the pain. I doubt that anyone who has not lost family or friends to that horrible death can understand, but Dad and I both felt relief at the end of her suffering even as we mourned her loss.

Yet, it was when Dad died that it became odd for me. For, this is a celebration of family and no offense to any Aunts, Uncles, or Cousins out there, but my immediate family was gone. Things just were not the same, no matter the efforts of friends and extended family.

For some reason, this Christmas has brought back some of what has been missing. I am not sure why, and I am not sure what it is, but -- with the exception of things said and thought whilst dealing with all the oh-so-delightful drivers -- something has returned. The new lair is getting some major cleaning and work, and a tree is up. Decorations are out, and the living room is aglow with the warm light of candles on mantle, sideboard and hearth. My favorite Christmas music is playing, and I am the happiest I have been at this time in several years. By rights, this should not be for I do not have someone special here to share it with me, nor was I able to do for family and friends -- most especially my friends -- as I would like. Time has been short, and I am like Tammi on this, for in a perfect world I would have already written all.

Yet, I am strangely happy. I have had a wonderful visit with this guy, though he was not supposed to see my true form. Actually, I treated him better than family, as I left some coffee for him Friday morning. I have dinner tonight with other friends. Perhaps it really is as simple as realizing that friends are the family we choose. Who knows.

What I do wish for each of you, no matter your beliefs, is the joy of the season, is the wonder of it all as seen through a child's eyes, and is whatever measure of peace is needed to comfort you. Sit back from the rush, the consumerism, and the madness that is the surface, and take time to enjoy the delight and love that is at the heart of family -- those chosen as well as those of blood. Share that gift with others, and let the light shine forth from window, heart, and hearth.

May the light shine on you all this season, fill your life with its glow, and warm your souls and hearts with love.

LW
off to be sure dimes are in the toes of the stockings...