That's Life: One Big Clump of Holiday Greetings
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Since this happens earlier every year, I would not be surprised if before long Christopher Columbus is pictured riding on a reindeer sleigh.
One customer passed the Halloween costumes and plastic pumpkins and walked directly to the dinnerware decorated with Thanksgiving motifs — turkeys, Pilgrims. I wondered if a horde of relatives would be descending on her on Turkey Day, expecting to be served a scrumptious meal.
One year, the night before Thanksgiving I set the table for eight, looking forward to my family gathering at my home in Williamstown to celebrate the holiday.
The next morning my son, Christopher, called from his apartment in Arlington, Va., and said he would like to bring a guest. "Her fiancee just broke up with her," Christopher said. "She shouldn't be alone, but she has no place to go."
So, I set another place at the table. But, with only enough beds for eight to occupy, I was stymied as to where I would put the unexpected guest that night.
Then I recalled that two days earlier when my new neighbors — a young couple — had moved in, they had carried a folding bed cot down to the basement. ( I had not been spying on them, but had seen them climbing down the stairs when I went to the mailbox, which is in the lobby. )
Driven by desperation on Thanksgiving Day, I asked my neighbors if I could borrow the folding bed. "No problem," said the young man. The day after Thanksgiving, my son and son-in-law carried the bed back to the basement, before we all tagged along with Jennifer's two children, who wanted to visit Santa Claus at the mall. In years gone by, the day after Thanksgiving, now known as Black Friday, ushered in the Christmas season. It was not until then that streets were decorated with garland, poinsettias and strings of red, green and blue lights.
I would be happy if Christmas lasted for months, as it is a time we put everything else aside to be with the ones we love, and it is a time for reliving through memories, the holidays we enjoyed with those we love who have gone before us.
Some of my fondest memories of my mother revolve around the Christmas season. Her heart was bigger than her pocketbook, and she shopped early for Christmas and did not stop until the last minute, taking advantage of advertised sales.
On my 28th Christmas, I had opened all the gifts beneath the tree that had tags bearing my name. Then about a half hour later, as we were eating a turkey dinner, Mother blurted, "Phyllis, there should be another gift for you."
We rummaged through all the wrappings that lay in a heap beside the Christmas tree, but found no unopened box. That night, Mother discovered my missing gift — a pink plush robe — in the closet in the spare room where she had hid it in November.
When I was about 10, I searched for my gifts a week or so before Christmas until I found them in Mother's clothes closet. After opening the boxes, I regretted knowing what was in them as there would be no surprises waiting for me on Christmas morning.
Now that I am older, I rush to the Christmas tree to watch my grandchildren open their gifts. The joy of Christmas is multiplied when children's eyes dance with delight as they looks at a present you, in the role of Santa Claus, have chosen for them.
Thinking about Christmas has sparked my desire to listen to "Oh Come All Ye Faithful" and other music of the season, so off I go to slip a CD into the CD player in my living room.
But before I leave, let me be the first to wish you a Merry Christmas. Happy Halloween and Thanksgiving, too!
Oops like the stores, I am clumping those holidays together.
