A Christmas Memory - Day Three

Holidays I don’t write about.

If you have read the other entries I have written then you know that I will write about anything. I wrote about shiny pants didn’t I? I have written about my childhood, and my children, and my children’s childhoods. I have written about Kat’s family, and my family. I have written about my friends and their families, I have even written about people I have never even met. I have other stories to tell, but sometimes I try and I can’t.

There is a great story about shopping for a wedding dress with Jenni in 2000, but the back story sucks and sometimes it hurts so much I can’t breathe. Paul’s first Christmas is noticeably missing as well, because it was Stephanie’s last and I just can’t, not if Kat and her folks are going to read it.

Last year I shared something my friend Durlix wrote questioning when the melancholy creeps into the holiday. I guess I have to ask when is not there? My Paul already knows and he is 14. That hurts me because I want my children to enjoy the holidays, and not be sad, but I know that I can’t always take away their sadness.

So what are your off limit years? What years do you just want to skip it all together and pretend it is March? I honestly and sincerely hope that this is not one of those years for you.

In Sixteen-is Gloria

This is another Christmas blog borrowed from my buddy Darryl Grimm. As I said before, I never met Darryl in person, but one of the aspects of our friendship that always impressed me was that except our ages didn’t correspond, he had so much in common with so many people I do know. My first year at OBU I was always surprised to hear that this friend or that friend was going to be at some other church Sunday because they were singing or playing the organ or hand bells or doing readers theater (but that’s another story). In any case, that’s who Darryl was as a young man.

What is it about Christmas?

When does that little bit of melancholy begin to creep in?

For me, it was the year that I played the pipe organ for the Christmas Eve service at a little church in a neighboring town. As everyone left saying "Merry Christmas", the snow started falling and everything started looking like the picture inside of one of those snow globes. After a while, I was all alone on the street; my father wouldn't be able to pick me up for 15 more minutes, the time it would take him to get from the church where I had always spent a part of Christmas Eve to where I was standing, waiting.

It was the first time I had spent any time, even a minute, away from my family on Christmas Eve and as I stood there, I felt it; that first little twinge of mortality. I felt really alone for the first time.

It's all part of leaving childhood and growing up. A very natural process. But somewhere inside there is still that kid waiting for his Dad to pick him up soon on Christmas Eve, knowing that the rest of the night will be wonderful, standing and waiting with tears in his eyes and wondering why he's crying.

Silent NINE, Holy NINE . . .

I have said before that I have internet friends that I have never met face to face. Once of those Friends was Darryl Grimm. Darryl was a friend of my crazy friend Roland. Darryl lived in New Orleans for many years before moving to Las Vegas after hurricane Katrina. Darryl had a blog and a message board at durlix.com. I loved reading his blog and chatting with him. He is the man who used to run the cheese department at Whole Foods and gave me the fondue recipe that Kat and I use. I had asked Roland first but he tried to pass a biscuit and gravy recipe off as a fondue recipe. Darryl, of course came through in a pinch.

One of the things that I most loved about Darryl’s blog was when he would write about “lil’ durlix” and the things he did as a young boy at Christmas time. One year, before I started my blog I had written something about my Christmas memories and he sent me a coffee mug he had printed a picture from the nutcracker ballet with his website logo on it. That is still one of my favorite Christmas mugs.

Darryl passed this year, and even though I never met him, never even spoke to him on the phone, I still mourn his passing. He was one of the good guys, and I miss him.
Throughout this year’s 25 days I am plan on sharing some of his Christmas Blog entries. I don’t think he’d mind.

When I was a lil durlx, I loved Christmas soooo much. At the age of ten, I had already started; I was a lil durlx/martha stewart. I put the first tree up the day after Thanksgiving; there were three more trees after that. I made angels out of paper mache and wire, and painted them. We were fortunate to have so many pine trees on the farm; I made so many wreathes and garlands. (Poor trees!)

I HAD to have candles in every window! And lights!

My parents let me do it; they were so nice about it. They put up with the remarks about the electric bill because there were so many lights, "It must cost a fortune, Margaret!"

But they knew me, and accepted me for what I was...
They came home early one July night when I was ten. I had pulled out all the Christmas lights and decorations and put them up. They had come home early because one of the neighbors had called them to tell them that our house was "lit up like a Christmas tree!"
My Mom and Dad tried to tell me why I shouldn't have done what I did, but they kept looking at each other and laughing. It made me so happy; I wanted to make them look at each other and laugh like that again and again.