Christmas Eve With Grandma Fuzzy
The excitement of Christmas is almost too much for children everywhere. Back in North Collins in the 1970’s Christmas celebrations were a live thing.
They had a pulse!
We were excited from the moment our eyes opened on the 24th.
“Who’s going to church when?”
“What time are we going to Grandma’s?”
Most of it was written in stone.
Grandma and Grandpa Schryver usually showed up around noon on Christmas Eve. Once Dad arrived from work, it was game on.
Mom and Dad were in perpetual motion. If Dad was cooking something to bring he was always open to let us try some.
Six kids in a home, with undeniable excitement in the air was a powerful thing too. There was a good chance that a fight could break out, but mostly, we were running around helping.
That first step into the door brought the whiff of the pizza. I’d be curious to find out how many pizzas Grandma made from scratch...
...but I was only interested in one...
...the anchovy one.
Dad would start talking about that with me about a week before. To this day, I only want pizza that has onions and anchovy.
One place near here makes it as Grandma did, without cheese. Just sauce, onions and anchovies. I can still eat a lot of that.
Yet, it wasn’t just about the food.
Our cousins, aunts and uncles were all there.
Everyone jammed into the two rooms...
...if you got a seat, you were lucky.
“Come here, honey,” would lead to kisses from a perfumed Aunt.
Grandpa was in his chair...
...a kiss for him was stop one.
He’d pull you in with his powerful, big hands.
“Where’d you go after you got your haircut?” He’d ask if your hair was too long.
Everyone knew he was in charge.
We’d sit there, open gifts, and eat.
The place was loud. There was a lot of laughter. Every now and again, voices were raised. Drinks were drank.
Sometimes I would grab a sibling and we’d head out to Uncle Herb and Aunt Rosalie’s house. There were more cookies there.
At 11 o’clock things would break down as we’d head to Midnight Mass. We would very often serve as altar boys.
These days, we meet at my Mom’s for Christmas Eve.
There’s still too much food.
The love still wraps me up tight.
We’re getting back to laughing like we used to.
We certainly feel the presence of all those ghosts of our ancestors.
We still feel their love.
And deep down, and bubbling to the surface, is that old familiar feeling of comfort...
...the ‘This is what it is all about. Love is the answer to all the questions’ feeling...
...that defines the season.
Merry Christmas!
(What I wouldn’t do for a slice of that pizza!)
They had a pulse!
We were excited from the moment our eyes opened on the 24th.
“Who’s going to church when?”
“What time are we going to Grandma’s?”
Most of it was written in stone.
Grandma and Grandpa Schryver usually showed up around noon on Christmas Eve. Once Dad arrived from work, it was game on.
Mom and Dad were in perpetual motion. If Dad was cooking something to bring he was always open to let us try some.
Six kids in a home, with undeniable excitement in the air was a powerful thing too. There was a good chance that a fight could break out, but mostly, we were running around helping.
That first step into the door brought the whiff of the pizza. I’d be curious to find out how many pizzas Grandma made from scratch...
...but I was only interested in one...
...the anchovy one.
Dad would start talking about that with me about a week before. To this day, I only want pizza that has onions and anchovy.
One place near here makes it as Grandma did, without cheese. Just sauce, onions and anchovies. I can still eat a lot of that.
Yet, it wasn’t just about the food.
Our cousins, aunts and uncles were all there.
Everyone jammed into the two rooms...
...if you got a seat, you were lucky.
“Come here, honey,” would lead to kisses from a perfumed Aunt.
Grandpa was in his chair...
...a kiss for him was stop one.
He’d pull you in with his powerful, big hands.
“Where’d you go after you got your haircut?” He’d ask if your hair was too long.
Everyone knew he was in charge.
We’d sit there, open gifts, and eat.
The place was loud. There was a lot of laughter. Every now and again, voices were raised. Drinks were drank.
Sometimes I would grab a sibling and we’d head out to Uncle Herb and Aunt Rosalie’s house. There were more cookies there.
At 11 o’clock things would break down as we’d head to Midnight Mass. We would very often serve as altar boys.
These days, we meet at my Mom’s for Christmas Eve.
There’s still too much food.
The love still wraps me up tight.
We’re getting back to laughing like we used to.
We certainly feel the presence of all those ghosts of our ancestors.
We still feel their love.
And deep down, and bubbling to the surface, is that old familiar feeling of comfort...
...the ‘This is what it is all about. Love is the answer to all the questions’ feeling...
...that defines the season.
Merry Christmas!
(What I wouldn’t do for a slice of that pizza!)
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