As the late Andy Williams once sang, “It’s the most wonderful time of the year!” Don’t get me wrong, summer’s great and spring and fall have their moments. But, this time of year, with Christmas, Hanukkah and Kwanzaa all bundled into the same month, this is the celebration season at its peak!
You know when someone says, “I know everyone says theirs was the best…”, well, let me tell you, mine really was the best! I don’t know how I got so lucky, really. When I think back on the period from my childhood to adulthood at Christmas time, I see a picture only the great Norman Rockwell could paint.
Though we weren’t wealthy, we did get a satisfying amount of gifts during the season. I recall only a tiny fraction of those gifts. For instance, the time my middle brother and I decided to get up well before sunrise to see if Santa came. He did – that was the year my brother received a drum set. The initial surprise and jubilation were short lived when we were told to go back to bed until sunrise. Or, the year my siblings (two brothers, one sister, all older than me) put together their wish list, and I only put one thing – a television set. I wanted my own TV in my room. That Christmas morning, my siblings and I came into the living room. My sister (16 years older than me) by that time was married and living two houses up the street, and she was there. They first went to their designated present section within the living room, but then they stopped and looked at me. I didn’t see mine at first among all the other presents, and then suddenly, as if almost hidden under the tree, there it was – a Panasonic portable, black and white television with a nine-inch screen. The actual TV was twice that size. It was AWESOME! For reference, the 36-inch was the largest TV at that time. My brothers immediately said, “Hey, why does he get a television set?” To which my parents replied, “That’s all he asked for.” That was one of the best Christmas Days ever. Even better than an “official, Red Ryder, carbine action, 200-shot, range model air rifle.” Shout out to Ralphie.
The presents were nice, of course; however, I knew then as I know today, what I had at the holidays was more special than mere gifts. It was Dr. Seuss who understood, “Maybe Christmas, he thought, doesn’t come from a store. Maybe Christmas…perhaps…means a little bit more!” The Pulitzer Prize winning novelist Edna Ferber describes it purely: “Christmas isn’t a season. It’s a feeling.”
It began with the matriarch of the holiday season in our family, my very dear late grandmother, Daisy. Mama Daisy, as we called her, was a widow for several decades after her husband, Daddy Robert, passed away early in his life from cancer. She never remarried, yet she had the most active social life, surrounded by good friends from the church, family down the street and others who were always around her. Daisy’s place was where all major holidays were held. She lived in a small mill town named Fieldale in Virginia. The cliché, “everyone knows everyone in this small town” is appropriate when referring to this community.
Here’s the most special thing about Daisy’s version of Christmastime. Although there were no handwritten or spoken “rules” during the event, it always came across as if everyone was on their best behavior. The reason – they were genuinely happy and grateful to be there. No politics, no bad blood, no hurtful picking, no negative memories to dredge up, just plain old elation, excitement and joy. Sounds a bit corny, I know, but believe me, it was real. That sweet, wonderful, tiny old woman really knew how to throw a good time gathering. I attended more than two and a half unforgettable decades of them. Delicious turkey, ham, gravy, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, stuffing, cranberry sauce, green beans and enhanced with the sweet aroma of Daisy’s homemade buttermilk biscuits, all placed on the country sideboard and table buffet style. The seniors were at the main table, the remaining adults in the den and adjoining living room, and the small children in the kitchen. Does this remind you of an old black-and-white holiday movie now? If so, you’re beginning to get my point.
No extravagant gifts or grand decorations involved here, just the family, all together, sharing in this moment, one light shining on another, collectively embracing the joy of the season in the only way we could ever imagine – at Daisy’s place.
After her passing, my mother and uncle carried the torch, and though they were very memorable in their own right, nothing beat Daisy’s way to celebrate the holidays. A warm, loving, inviting, friendly, energetic and kind environment with the delicious scent of homemade buttermilk biscuits.
Happy Holidays to all our readers, advertisers and my Forsyth Magazine family. May you always hear the bell ring.
Musical Selection: Pentatonix – Please Santa Please (Official Video)
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