There were always so many relatives at our house on Christmas day in my childhood that I tend to associate the day with a great deal of happy confusion, much laughter and two dinners, one for the kids and one for the grown-ups.

Thursday, December 20, 2001

There were always so many relatives at our house on Christmas day in my childhood that I tend to associate the day with a great deal of happy confusion, much laughter and two dinners, one for the kids and one for the grown-ups.

I was in high school before I ever tasted turkey. As long as my grandmother lived we had goose for Christmas dinner and I still prefer it to turkey.

My grandmother made fruit cakes at Thanksgiving time so they’d be properly aged by Christmas. We had a cast iron frog, painted green; turned on his back he provided a hollow spot. That’s the spot where my grandmother placed each black walnut before cracking it with a hammer.

I loved the taste of black walnuts and used to annoy my grandmother in my pre-school days by hanging around while she cracked them.

&uot;Go away,&uot; she’d finally command me. &uot;What if this hammer head flew off and hit you? You’d be in bad shape, you would. Go sit in the front room, look at one of your picture books or play with your dolls. When I’m finished cracking these I’ll save a cupful of nut meats just for you, but go now.&uot;

Outside of my friend, Chris Schocker, I don’t know of anyone who took Christmas as seriously as my grandmother. She made candy, plum pudding, and most of the Christmas presents she gave her friends and relatives.

After her death, when I was six, Christmas still brought its blessings, but it was never quite the same. The relatives still came, until the Depression scattered them and us to other locations, but something was always missing.

I do remember, though, a special night when my mother and I walked to the grocery store to do some last minute shopping. It was already dark, but seemed light because of the thick blanket of snow covering the ground, and because the moon and stars were so bright.

One star in particular, or it may have been a planet, loomed large and awe-inspiring. It was not in the eastern sky, but in the southern. My mother pointed it out to me and observed that it must be in appearance somewhat like the one the wise men followed. I was not yet 10 years old at the time, but the impression the incident made on me, lingers to this day. When I think of Christmas I have two pictures in my mind: the colorful and chaotic, and the serenity of starlight casting blue shadows on the silent snow.

For me these are the two faces of Christmas. I do not hold one to be more important or holy than the other. They differ in their importance, I suspect, according to the time and circumstance of the individual’s life.

A woman I once worked with, noting my preparations for Christmas, told me that while I might enjoy Christmas at the present the time would come when left alone forsaken by friends, I would hate and dread the day.

Recently widowed, neglected as she felt by her son, an only child, and his family, she suffered great depression and eventually, I’m sorry to say, took her own life.

Older now than she was then, I have no near relatives, and no longer so much as have a cat with whom to share my home, but – to indulge in clich\u00E9s – I’m happy as a clam and contented as a cow.

Grateful beyond words for my friends, I prefer being with them on non-holidays. Over the years I’ve developed a number of small rituals, trivial beyond belief, but important to me.

I have already listened to VCR tapes of &uot;Miracle on 34th Street&uot; and &uot;The Grinch that Stole Christmas.&uot; I am re-reading &uot;A Christmas Carol&uot; (Dickens) and &uot;A Child’s Christmas in Wales&uot; (Dylan Thomas) and if I can find my book of O. Henry’s stories, will also read &uot;Gift of the Magi.&uot;

I plan to listen to my records of The Messiah and all the other Christmas music available either in my collection or on television. I probably don’t celebrate Christmas as efficiently as many of my friends, but despite my melancholy friend’s dire predictions I still enjoy the day. It usually finds me purring like a cat.

I like my friends to enjoy it, too. My best wishes go out to all of you for a joyous and blessed holiday. As Tiny Tim puts it, &uot;God bless us everyone!&uot;

Love Cruikshank is an Albert Lea resident. Her column appears Thursdays.