The house was once filled with the warm smells of homemade cookies, turkey, ham, pies and stuffing roasting in the oven or cooling on the counter tops. Grandma's kitchen was filled with all the Aunts, and cousins that were in high school scurrying about preparing the Christmas Eve dinner that soon would fill the chrome and gray Formica table that sat in the middle of her kitchen. At Grandpa's back was the table that I sat, the kids table. This was usually a card table or two set up for every one under the age of sixteen, at sixteen you got to join the adult table; a right of passage.
All of Mom's three brother's and their families would be there as well as the six of us and Grandma and Grandpa. We would drive the six long miles to Grandma's house every Christmas Eve, some times my sister's and I would sing Christmas Carols on the way. When we got there,we all piled out of the car, and headed into the house, hanging up our coats, and kicking our boots off at the second landing of the basement stairs. We girls were sent upstairs to play with our cousins.
My youngest Aunt, a year older than my second oldest sister, always forced us to play school and we would have to memorize the spelling and meaning of a word that she had chosen, by the time we left the house for the night. We would play hide-and-go-seek, hiding in the crawlspace closets that were spread through out the upstairs, twister, scrabble, and sometime times kicked outside to play in the snow.
After supper, the kids had to do the humongous pile of dishes from cooking and eating the holiday meal, this would usually take us about an hour or more depending on how much horse play took place. The folks would be playing pitch, or hearts in the living room while we worked. Laughter and teasing at times in loud volumes would drift out to the kitchen. It was a happy time, full of joy and fun.
Once the dishes were washed, dried and put away we would all gather in the kitchen again around the live Christmas tree that was decorated with strung popcorn and cranberries, large, colored, tear drop shaped lights, glass ornaments that were gold, blue, green, red, white and purple. Some were round, some oblong with spindles from the tops and bottoms. When you dropped these ornaments you could hear the pop of the glass shattering on the floor in the next room.
Under the tree would be at least one present for each Grandchild until they reached the age of 16, then Grandma and Grandpa stopped buying you a gift. Each family brought one gift for each kid, and for the adults sometimes there would be a gift for each, or the couple or perhaps no gift at all. We always had a gift though.
It would be about 10 or 11 pm when we would put our coats and boots back on and pile back into the car for the six mile drive home. I loved to sit by a window, so I could look at all the houses and their decorations. By the time we got home my sisters would be half a sleep, whining to open the rest of the present under the tree. Mom and Dad would tell us no, and send us off to bed, I was usually dead to the world by the time we turned off the frontage road, so they would just get me dressed for bed and tuck me in. In the morning, Santa had come, and we would be full of giggles and laughter trying to get the folks up and out of bed so we could unwrap our gifts.
But sad to say, things are not the same any more. No more family gatherings, everyone is off to Disney World, or skiing, or some other way of enjoying the holiday. So, these walls have never known the joy of laughter from children playing hide-and-seek, adults playing pitch, or the warm smells of a stuffed turkey being cooked from dawn to almost dusk, scenting the house with love.
Now, all are in to big of a hurry to cram in another long weekend, or another vacation, or just avoiding the holidays all together thinking only of our wants, our selves, and not what we can bring to our family just by sharing a holiday meal, decorating a tree together, or stopping by for a hot cup of coco can do for those of us who remember what good cheer is. . . . , or rather was.
Both porcelain sinks were filled with pots and pans, silverware from cooking and prepping the salads and relish dishes that sat on the counter for snacking on while we all waited for that golden brown, stuffed turkey to come out of the oven. Grandma always made the turkey gravy in the roaster that the turkey was cooked in. Small bits of stuffing would be stuck to the bottom and the sides, making the gravy so rich and delicious my mouth would water just thinking of it.
All of Mom's three brother's and their families would be there as well as the six of us and Grandma and Grandpa. We would drive the six long miles to Grandma's house every Christmas Eve, some times my sister's and I would sing Christmas Carols on the way. When we got there,we all piled out of the car, and headed into the house, hanging up our coats, and kicking our boots off at the second landing of the basement stairs. We girls were sent upstairs to play with our cousins.
My youngest Aunt, a year older than my second oldest sister, always forced us to play school and we would have to memorize the spelling and meaning of a word that she had chosen, by the time we left the house for the night. We would play hide-and-go-seek, hiding in the crawlspace closets that were spread through out the upstairs, twister, scrabble, and sometime times kicked outside to play in the snow.
After supper, the kids had to do the humongous pile of dishes from cooking and eating the holiday meal, this would usually take us about an hour or more depending on how much horse play took place. The folks would be playing pitch, or hearts in the living room while we worked. Laughter and teasing at times in loud volumes would drift out to the kitchen. It was a happy time, full of joy and fun.
Once the dishes were washed, dried and put away we would all gather in the kitchen again around the live Christmas tree that was decorated with strung popcorn and cranberries, large, colored, tear drop shaped lights, glass ornaments that were gold, blue, green, red, white and purple. Some were round, some oblong with spindles from the tops and bottoms. When you dropped these ornaments you could hear the pop of the glass shattering on the floor in the next room.
Under the tree would be at least one present for each Grandchild until they reached the age of 16, then Grandma and Grandpa stopped buying you a gift. Each family brought one gift for each kid, and for the adults sometimes there would be a gift for each, or the couple or perhaps no gift at all. We always had a gift though.
It would be about 10 or 11 pm when we would put our coats and boots back on and pile back into the car for the six mile drive home. I loved to sit by a window, so I could look at all the houses and their decorations. By the time we got home my sisters would be half a sleep, whining to open the rest of the present under the tree. Mom and Dad would tell us no, and send us off to bed, I was usually dead to the world by the time we turned off the frontage road, so they would just get me dressed for bed and tuck me in. In the morning, Santa had come, and we would be full of giggles and laughter trying to get the folks up and out of bed so we could unwrap our gifts.
But sad to say, things are not the same any more. No more family gatherings, everyone is off to Disney World, or skiing, or some other way of enjoying the holiday. So, these walls have never known the joy of laughter from children playing hide-and-seek, adults playing pitch, or the warm smells of a stuffed turkey being cooked from dawn to almost dusk, scenting the house with love.
Now, all are in to big of a hurry to cram in another long weekend, or another vacation, or just avoiding the holidays all together thinking only of our wants, our selves, and not what we can bring to our family just by sharing a holiday meal, decorating a tree together, or stopping by for a hot cup of coco can do for those of us who remember what good cheer is. . . . , or rather was.
