I don't remember much about celebrations when I was a very young child. Those memories start after my father died in 1954, when I was 7, and my mother brought me and my brother and sister to Florida from California.
Even small celebrations were significant. Sunday dinner was a ritual observed to celebrate family and friends and the liberty of weekends to do what we pleased and liked. These dinners occurred at 1 pm or so on Sunday afternoon. The dinner might be at my grandma and aunt's house, or at our house. They were formal occasions only in that our nicest china and silverware were used. We dressed casually, though my aunt and I were probably the most "dolled-up," as we had been at church that morning. The dining room table groaned with the bounty of the feast -- turkey, ham, or chicken, or sometimes lamb, and lots of side dishes. Or Mom might make a favorite dish of mine, which she called "Rice'n'Curry." This dish would especially be served after Thanksgiving Day, using leftover turkey. The meat was heated in a curry-infused gravy that I loved, and served over rice. Condiments were piled on top. It was a dish that grew on your plate. It was fun to decorate the dish with the condiments, and colorful, too, with tomatoes, boiled egg whites and yolks, bell peppers, bacon, and more. We often had guests at these feasts, whether local friends or visiting out-of-towners.
Easter was likewise a significant celebration. My aunt was also my godmother, and she took those duties seriously, shepherding my Christian education in the Episcopal Church. After the Easter church service, we'd go to either our home or the home of my grandma and aunt, and the Easter Egg Hunt would be on. Then, of course, we feasted. The next week at school, I would find in my lunch my favorite sandwich: egg salad, which my Mom had made from my Easter Egg Hunt finds.
Christmas was, of course, the biggest celebration of the year. My brother and sister and I would get up, eager to get started. But we had to wait for Mom to call us out to the living room, giving her time to put last-minute touches on the tree and last-minute gifts or special ones that defied wrapping. Then we would come out and get into our stockings first, then into the presents under the tree. One of us would serve as "Santa Claus," handing out the presents one at a time. We waited while the one who had a present unwrapped it and showed off what it was. And then -- you might think we were a bunch of lascivious gluttons -- we feasted.
After I got married, while my husband and I lived in Jacksonville, Christmas got extended, as we would, at home, open our own presents in the morning, an event that became more fun as our daughters arrived and grew. Then we'd go to my mother's house or my husband's parents' house in the evening, to exchange and open gifts there. Sometime during the day or evening -- you guessed it: we feasted. We might have a dinner at home, or go out to one of the better restaurants.
These days, my husband and I gather with family and friends on Christmas Day either at our younger daughter's house or the home of our older daughter, her husband, and their son.
And, yes, after opening presents, we feast.
1 comment:
I loved Christmas when I had young children. These days they are scattered and we spend Christmas Day with friends who also don't family nearby. It's still fun but different. I suppose you could say it's our new family tradition.
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