Reminiscing
I’ll be home for Christmas, if only in my dreams.
Gannon & Kent
This bittersweet Christmas classic, recorded in 1943 by Bing Crosby, always reminds me of soldiers far from home. However, that thought is too restrictive because the same holds for families separated for any reason at Christmas.
It’s not a Christmas tune, but perhaps my favorite song by Dolly Parton is her “Coat of Many of Colors.” I especially love her metaphor, “Back through the years I go wandering once again;” and I do so every Christmas season.
Most of our family lives in the Knoxville area. The exception is my West Coast daughter, Emily, and her family who won’t be making it home this Christmas. But son-in-law Matt’s family now lives close to her, so new family gatherings on Christmas Eve will occur.
I asked Becky and my daughters for Christmas reminisces. Everyone mentioned gatherings at the Venable home on Christmas Eve for supping, singing and sampling selections from the fancy Christmas cookie tray. We would watch kids cavort and then “perform,” before reacting with age-appropriate apprehension or joy when Santa Claus magically appeared. In fact, the gathering was so special and brought in such a crowd that the Ferguson clan decided to spread out to our home. and now the torch has been passed to daughter Jenny and son-in-law Ryand in the Big House. They host such a great Christmas Eve party of family, friends, food, drink and carols with Santa that another expansion may some day be needed.
Years ago, I told the story when my parents arranged for Santa to come to their Christmas Eve party, because the sophisticated third graders at my school lunch table had convinced me that the Jolly Old Elf was a ruse. But when I saw Santa in my home, the magic of Christmas warmed my heart and continued a while longer.
So, I felt compelled to do the same for my grandkids and endured a scratchy white beard and a pillow-stuffed Santa suit (see pic) on December 24, 2020, the night my daughter Jenny’s wish for a White Christmas finally came true.
Unfortunately, I don’t have much of a stage presence or the ability to disguise my voice. My “Ho, Ho, Ho’s” were substandard, so I have passed the Santa suit to actual thespians. My Christmas Eve contribution is stumbling through Clement Moore’s “Twas the Night Before Christmas.” My errors of recitation produce comedic shtick and bonhomie as everyone laughs and helps me through the poem.
For decades the highlight on Christmas Eve was Becky’s mom, Joanna Venable, doing her Crooked Mouth skit. It’s impossible to describe the contortions of her mouth while telling the story of Mary and her Volunteer boyfriend. And every year as the story ends, she amazed the children by snuffing out a candle with her fingers. Mama Jo is gone now, but the “candle” was passed to daughter Emily and then to my grandson Oakley, when he was just eleven.
We all have Christmas memories and “wandering back through the years” helps kindle others. Years ago, a friend who was going through a tough divorce spent a Christmas with us. Our young daughters were aware of the difficult situation and that Santa might bring her daughter Allison a lot of gifts. Admittedly, the gifts under the tree for our girls looked pitiful by comparison. We made the best of things, but a few days later Santa came again after we found the rest of our girls’ Christmas in a seldom-used closet! Understandably, I’m sympathetic with Clark Griswold’s hidden gifts in “Christmas Vacation.”
During our traveling days, Becky and I used to collect Christmas tree ornaments from all over the world. Every year hanging our treasures on the tree aided reminiscing about the places we have been. My daughters remembered the time I almost tumbled from a step ladder trying to get the angel atop the substantial tree, like Ralphie’s Old Man in “A Christmas Story.”
Christmas morning is especially exciting for younglings. As a kid I remember looking from my room to see if Santa had come during the night. Of course, he had, but just like Ralphie, we couldn’t assault the cornucopia of gifts until my parents gave the OK. My daughters remember sitting at the top of the stairs and calling to Becky and me asking if it was “OK” to come down on Christmas morning. Some years ago, daughter Emily and husband Matt were visiting and I remember their calls to us, while sitting at the top of the stairs, asking if it was “OK” to come down! Traditions linger.
I’m not tech savvy, but as a twentieth-century guy trying to make it in the twenty-first century, I persevere. I’ve written about how the technology of email and text makes communication so easy that it’s a shame it is not used more by seasoned citizens. I used to write letters, but snail mail is passing away. Chatting on the phone is not a man thing and FaceTime is a bit awkward for an introvert — unless the grans are prancing around on screen.
We won’t be with our West Coast family this Christmas, but I am glad I am able to text regularly with both my daughters and share pictures through my iPhone. We’ve been sharing thoughts for this essay of reminiscences.
I’ll close this somewhat abbreviated essay with a thank you and a Merry Christmas to my loyal readers. I know you’re out there because I hear from you and regularly run into people who say they follow this column in The Focus.
I’m thankful for many things this Christmas including faith, family and friends. But I’m also thankful for the purpose and the creative joy this column affords a retired Santa.
