CHRISTMAS EVE

Many years ago when my grandmother was alive and the world seemed so much warmer, she would devote her energies to preparing a wonderful traditional Christmas Eve meal known as the seven fish. When my mother started to realize the family was too big to dump on Grandma, she took up the tradition from Grandma and it became the best night of the year.

Mom like me favored a lobster sauce with spaghetti; eels fried in a batter, stuffed Scungilli, bacala salad, made from salted cod that was bought dried and set in water. Calamari was a staple as was the octopus. There were stuffed mussels in a delicious light garlic sauce and of course anything else that lived in the ocean. It was the adult’s holiday, celebrating our Italian heritage and those we loved. Once we left the table as both adults and children, the magic witching hour took over, the time for anticipation of Santa and what might fall under the Christmas tree. The magical appearance the next morning led to even more wonderment, as the toys I wanted seemed to appear. The amazing thing was: my two friends who lived next door got the same exact things!

It is here that I will leave my past and venture to the present, and the house that sits in Burbank, California, thousands of miles away from the cold and snow and my memories. As I sit here in the room where the decorated tree sits I hear the voice of my granddaughter and know that although there are no traditions yet, there will be. But I hope those traditions enter around Darby and Bobby, that it becomes all about them and not the adults with their fretting and agonizing over getting greeting cards out, buying this one and that one a present, that the garbage man and the lawn people get a tip for the holiday, that the newspaper boy/girl/adult gets another tip beyond the weekly one.

(I want to hear about what my grandchildren want for Christmas, listening to their innocent beliefs in the magic of Santa and Christmas. I don’t want to offend anyone by saying to them: “Merry Christmas” or having to feel guilty for a moment that there are indeed others who won’t be celebrating because of religion or the state of their finances.

Many years ago when my wife and I started celebrating Christmas for the first time together, we were poor as I was just starting out in life and she was 6 months pregnant. I truly don’t remember what I got her that season but I do know it was something. She, on the other hand, gave me the spirit and truth of what Christmas should be. It was a small thin package that left me no clues. In it was my watch that had stopped working and I was too cheap on myself to fix it. That watch was all she had and all I ever wanted to this day, it was the true meaning of giving and loving, it was Christmas.