Thoughts on Christmas Eve

 

A holiday moment with my boys

Last night my family and I sat in a big circle in the living room—all sixteen of us plus Trevor, who is new, and I looked around at all those lovely faces, and thought how lucky I am. Lots of laughter, lots of “remember when?” conversations. One granddaughter said, with a huge smile, we haven’t had everyone together since pre-Covid. And we hadn’t—it was so nice to have them all in once place This time, we are all vaccinated, boosted, and tested the day before we arrived. Still for me an air of unease hangs over the gathering. The omicron variant looms. Meantime we make merry and act as though nothing is wrong. One of my granddaughters, a college student, had said that this was a time in her life when she had nothing to worry about. When I heard that, I nearly clapped my hand on my head—it seems to me there is so much in this world to worry about.

Still, these are moments to be treasured. How many women have grown children who sit around, late at night, and talk about their pet grammatical peeves? Brandon began it with his irritation at people who say literally when they mean figuratively, like “I’m literally dying here,” to which he replies, “Really?” My outrage at people who misuse lay and lie came up—it’s by now a family joke—and Megan expressed her displeasure at people who overuse “that” which led to a discussion of extra words. I suggested “There is a study that shows….” Should be “A study shows….”

Today Colin and his daughter Morgan took me to lunch—a lovely chance to visit and talk quietly about things that interested each of us—even how to roast a duck. And last night, I sat in a corner with both my sons, and we talked about many things, including a stock investment I’ve lost track of (don’t ask!) and they think will be their inheritance.

My four grandsons, ages fourteen to eighteen, are the disappearing persons at this gathering. They come and go silently, and we’re never sure where—for coffee, to throw a football, shoot some baskets. But every time they go in and out, in single file, that classic picture of the Beatles crossing a street leaps into my mind. A couple of them have haircuts that increase that image.

Tonight Morgan and Colin went to the airport to pick up Morgan’s boyfriend, who the rest of us had never met. The rest of the group decided they had to give him a proper welcome—they scrounged up candles and stood in the front yard singing carols.  The plan was to ask him to lead them in song—whether that happened or not, I’m not sure, but I heard a rousing chorus of “Jingle Bells.”

Tonight, following our family custom of many years, we had Brandon’s chili for Christmas Eve. Yesterday I wrote a Gourmet on a Hot Plate blog about a salmon recipe I thought showy enough for a Christmas Eve meal. Before Brandon joined the family, we used to have a bit of a problem deciding on a traditional meal for Christmas Eve. But last night I felt like a bit of a hypocrite recommending salmon for others while I knew a great bowl of chili awaited me.

Tonight we had the usual argument—some who married into the family (now called outlaws, thanks to a gift Lisa came up with) come from traditions where gifts are opened on Christmas Eve. The Alter tradition and my childhood one was to open gifts on Christmas morning—one gift, then a big breakfast, and then gifts. We’ve had to modify that to mollify both the outlaws and impatient children, so everyone opened one gift tonight, followed by cries (from my two sons, the wretches) to open them all right now. I quieted them with my usual threat of disinheritance. I think were I not here to enforce custom, they would open them all tonight.

These are all moments to treasure and make me so grateful for my family. And sometimes a bit picky, snarky, whatever—I’m looking at different generations who do things differently than I would, so I bite my tongue—except about the gifts.

For all who are celebrating tonight, I share your joy. For those who are grieving or lonely, I wish I could wrap my arms abut you. In the words of Tiny Tim, “May God bless us every one.”