Copeland St Christmas

Its a strange feature of the human mind that--when the holiday season arrives--we tend to think of those we have lost, those we have loved, and those no longer with us. Surely these people have infiltrated every facet of our day to day lives....but, for some reason, its the Christmas season we seem to remember most. Why don't the other 330 days or so bring the same clarity--the same emotions--as they ones ranging from Thanksgiving to Christmas? One of the mysteries of love that science can't explain, I guess....

We're swarmed with memories during the holiday season, and I, personally, think first to Nana Courtney's annual Christmas party. Nana never owned her own house--and the financial, family, and "luck" ramifications of WHY could fill a week's worth of these blogs I write. Suffice to say that for Nana, money was always tight. Without sounding too overly sentimental, Nana Courtney showed us that Christmas wasnt about gifts or money or "stuff." Her parties were always held (originally TWO full weeks before Christmas...although my mom will say "you're crazy...it was always the Sunday before Christmas") in her small apartments; in my lifetime, she lived in three different ones, and each once was responsible for its own traditions. Family packed the small abodes like sardines--Nana had five children, and each of those kids had at least two kids (some had five themselves), and there were always "distant" cousins, uncles, aunts, great uncles and aunts, friends, and more who came by and jockied for a seat on one of the few couches or chairs.

Nana always made THREE things to eat (that I remember). Two I hated: Her "Merry Cheese Squares" and her sedimentary rock based chocolate brownies. But I love thinking back to those desserts. The third item--and my all time favorite--was her famous sweet and sour meatballs. After she died, I made a vow to make them each and every year around Christmas--and I'll make them next weekend for a party, in fact.

Nana had something like 25 grandkids by the time all was said and done, and to each of those grandkids she gave a check for 50 dollars (unless you were under the age of 13, which meant you got a toy present!). But the second gift she gave to each of the kids was what my sister and I used to call our "junk-pack." Although its long been closed, there was a Mass. based store called Paperama, which was a party/paper/discount everything sort of department store. It was awesome! And Nana would go there and buy all kinds of crap, divvy it up, and then wrap it. But how fun it was to open--both for the adventure of seeing what you got, and for the way it lent itself to be made fun of by the grandkids (in a loving and healthy way, of course). Here is what you could find in your junk-pack: Thermal socks, black Thinsulate gloves, scotch tape, two candy canes, a pad of doodle paper, a pack of crayons, lip gloss, hand lotion, white athletic socks with orange or red stripes by the top, 4 or 5 Hershey's Kisses, hair gel or shampoo, a coloring book, glitter, pencils, an orange winter hat, and lifesavers in that "storybook" package they sometimes came in around the holidays. One time, and this must have been a great year, she gave us each a McDonalds gift certificate too. Happy times.

Santa would always come, and, probably 76 years before I was born, Nana purchased a Santa costume--I say 76 years, because thats how good it looked. I have no idea who played Santa when I was a kid, but I do know that I myself played him a few times. Santa would deliver the gifts to all the grandchildren--gifts given by specific aunts and uncles who "drew" that particular grandkid in a "grab." Looking to bring equality to the gift giving, it was later decided that each uncle and aunt would get a special "gift" from the kid they had in the grab. This usually meant that the aunt's got a candle and the uncles got a gallon of windshield washer fluid. Like I said, Nana taught us that it wasnt about gifts or money.....haha

I could go on, but I won't. I'd rather go play with my son, with whom I am home with today. I just wanted to stroll down memory lane for a moment, and see if Kris, Mom, Dad, or any of the other family who read this can remember anything I left out. Maybe I can get Sally Piles to write about her memories sometime...as I am sure they are just as rich. And this season, I hope to start making these special memories with my own son, with whom I am so blessed.