It was quite a holiday!

#220958

Dear neighbors,

It was quite a holiday! I hope you can say the same. No. 2 daughter came from her home across the sea, we rented a car and drove the endless turnpike to Massachusetts to celebrate with the rest of the family. We laughed a lot, ate too much, starting with the cookies made from my mother’s traditional recipes—fondly remembered flavors of my youth—anise, ginger, sesame, citrus, a wee bit of rum, chocolate and especially butter!

We exchanged gifts, some silly, some I will cherish forever, though maybe never need. What do you give an eighty++ grandmother who wants nothing? Chocolate!!!

Attending Christmas Eve service sitting between my two daughters surrounded me with a warmth and security I had not felt in a long time. Not since I was a little girl sitting between my parents, to keep me from squirming I believe.

I closed my eyes and it was 6:30 PM on Christmas Eve in a little German Lutheran congregation on the East side of Detroit. The fathers in their best suits, the mothers with an extra splash of Midnight in Paris all over themselves. The children lined up according to height in the basement Sunday school room ready to troop up the stairs, through the pastor’s study (the only time we would ever see this room, an ordinary study, btw,) except for the few boys who would some day be married in the little church. Like the children on Christmas Eve, grooms, about to be married would enter the Sanctuary from the Pastor’s study.

We were fascinated by the vestments that hung in a narrow cabinet in a corner and the silver chalice and several salvers in a cabinet with glass doors brought from Europe before anyone now living could remember. We were all eager to get a closer look but no one dared to step out of line. The line wiggled and squirmed but it held.

All the while the organist was playing every Christmas hymn in the book. The pastor in his flowing robe and with the proper colored stole draped over his shoulders comes in and creates a momentary calm. He smiles (pastors are always good with little kids who are not his). He tells us we are celebrating the birth of the baby Jesus like folks all over the world this night. Some of us think that is special. Some of us think that is awesome! Some of us just want to get this over with to get home and see our presents. We all knew that Santa was putting our presents under the tree while we were suffering all this anxiety lined up the cellar stairs into the pastor’s study. Back then, while the bombs were reshaping the geographic boundaries of Europe, Santa, or the Christmas Child, (das Christkind) still brought presents to most of us on Christmas Eve.

When the organist pulled out all the stops and lit into "Oh, come all ye faithful, joyful and triumphant…" the littlest child stepped into the sanctuary and we knew the show had begun. If the path to the rear of the church seemed daunting for a three-year-old, a patient parent or perhaps one of the ushers took her hand--it was usually a little girl--and led her part of the way around the back of the congregation, all standing and singing their hearts out, then down the center aisle where a loving Sunday School teacher was waiting for her and pointing out where she should sit.

At some point two or three little boys would get into a shoving match to see how fast they could all three reach the same spot in the pew and sit down. If there was a tableau, and there usually was, the children in costume came toward the end. The three boys portraying the Wise Men preferred to call themselves The Wise Guys, usually brought up the end, and rightfully so. After all they came from afar following yonder star.

The Pastor, clever fellow that he was, had taken an empty oatmeal container and punched a series of holes in the pattern of a star into it, placed a small light bulb behind them and propped it between two organ pipes. From there it shone brightly on the congregation below, watching for their children to come marching in line like the docile little sheep they were supposed to be.

Only one character was missing from this assembly, the angel who appeared to the shepherds as they lay keeping watch o'er their sheep by night. One year it was me! Olivia de Havilland could not have brought more drama to the role. I was in fifth or sixth grade, had long braids down my back. My mother had never yet cut my hair. We unraveled those braids and brushed out the kinks the best we could, I was dressed in a white junior chorister’s robe and a bit of tinsel was wound around my head sweat-band style. The wings were dispensed with. They would have just gotten in the way. It was quite clear who I was supposed to be.

I was settled in the pulpit and did not have to march in with all the rest but I had to crouch down in that pulpit through the whole agonizing service. At the singing of each carol another character or characters walked into view and stood on his tiny X marked on the carpeting of the altar. The heavenly host was just the organist with all the stops pulled out again. The congregation was too small and did not have the voices necessary to do Handel’s Hallelujah justice.

On cue I jumped up from my heavenly crouch like a racehorse from it’s gate. "Fear not! For I bring you glad tidings of great joy…” I shouted. I had memorized that entire passage from the Gospel of Luke, King James Version. The only version at the time. Nothing rhymed, it was heavy stuff. None of the other kids had to recite anything like it. I did it perfectly, and loudly with a spotlight shining in my eyes. My mother said practically the whole congregation was startled, even she jumped back a bit and she knew what was coming. I was pleased. I had my 10 minutes of fame very early in life.

All the older ladies told me that I had scared them, sort of. The men, mostly other dads, would not admit to that. Mostly they said stuff like: "Yah did great, kid.” "Yah had us goin’ there for a minute, kiddo.” "Like a rabbit outta a hat!" I hated that one. I was never given a role in the tableau ever again. The Angel, when she appeared at all, stood quietly and elegantly beside the manger and raised her arms slowly toward the end as if in some sort of benediction.

Which brings me to the manger and the baby Jesus, the pièce de resistance of the whole affair. There was no baby Jesus asleep on the hay. He was a goose-necked desk lamp with a low wattage bulb in it nestled down in the hay.

Poor Mary had to stare adoringly at that light bulb for a long time. Joseph could at least look away occasionally. I think Mary feigned prayer with her eyes closed most of the time. Or maybe she was really praying for the end of the tableau and the end of her ten minutes of fame for the year. Mary was everybody’s sweetheart and she repeated the role well into high school.

I was never asked to repeat my Oscar-worthy performance again, I think because my mother let me cut my hair into a cute little pixie cut. And we all know there were no mischievous little sprites around on that cold winter’s night that was so deep, there’s nothing deep about pixies.

Eleanor 🌸 O.

#220960

Dear Eleanor,

Thank you for sharing your Christmas memories and taking the time to post them. I really enjoyed reading them. Merry Christmas!

Best wishes for the new year!

Michael

- from original message -

Dear neighbors,

It was quite a holiday! I hope you can say the same. No. 2 daughter came from her home across the sea, we rented a car and drove the endless turnpike to Massachusetts to celebrate with the rest of the family. We laughed a lot, ate too much, starting with the cookies made from my mother’s traditional recipes—fondly remembered flavors of my youth—anise, ginger, sesame, citrus, a wee bit of rum, chocolate and especially butter!

We exchanged gifts, some silly, some I will cherish forever, though maybe never need. What do you give an eighty++ grandmother who wants nothing? Chocolate!!!

Attending Christmas Eve service sitting between my two daughters surrounded me with a warmth and security I had not felt in a long time. Not since I was a little girl sitting between my parents, to keep me from squirming I believe.

I closed my eyes and it was 6:30 PM on Christmas Eve in a little German Lutheran congregation on the East side of Detroit. The fathers in their best suits, the mothers with an extra splash of Midnight in Paris all over themselves. The children lined up according to height in the basement Sunday school room ready to troop up the stairs, through the pastor’s study (the only time we would ever see this room, an ordinary study, btw,) except for the few boys who would some day be married in the little church. Like the children on Christmas Eve, grooms, about to be married would enter the Sanctuary from the Pastor’s study [snip]

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The message is available in full at Message #220958]

#220961

Oh how I wish your parents could have recorded that angel's speech! No photo at least? That was a great report.

Thanks!

Joan

- previous message -

Dear Eleanor,
Thank you for sharing your Christmas memories and taking the time to post them. I really enjoyed reading them. Merry Christmas!
Best wishes for the new year!

- from original message -
Dear neighbors,
It was quite a holiday! I hope you can say the same. No. 2 daughter came from her home across the sea, we rented a car and drove the endless turnpike to Massachusetts to celebrate with the rest of the family. We laughed a lot, ate too much, starting with the cookies made from my mother’s traditional recipes—fondly remembered flavors of my youth—anise, ginger, sesame, citrus, a wee bit of rum, chocolate and especially butter!
We exchanged gifts, some silly, some I will cherish forever, though maybe never need. What do you give an eighty++ grandmother who wants nothing? Chocolate!!!
Attending Christmas Eve service sitting between my two daughters surrounded me with a warmth and security I had not felt in a long time. Not since I was a little girl sitting between my parents, to keep me from squirming I believe.
I closed my eyes and it was 6:30 PM on Christmas Eve in a little German Lutheran congregation on the East side of Detroit. The fathers in their best suits, the mothers with an extra splash of Midnight in Paris all over themselves. The children lined up according to height in the basement Sunday school room ready to troop up the stairs, through the pastor’s study (the only time we would ever see this room, an ordinary study, btw,) except for the few boys who would some day be married in the little church. Like the children on Christmas Eve, grooms, about to be married would enter the Sanctuary from the Pastor’s study [snip]
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The message is available in full at Message https://groups.io/g/clevelandpark/message/220958

#220971

﻿
﻿Thank you, Eleanor, for taking the time to share with us your 2024 Christmas events and memories of your fascinating descriptions of your childhood Yuletides.

Happy New Year!

Barbara Ioanes

- previous message -
Dear Eleanor,
Thank you for sharing your Christmas memories and taking the time to post them. I really enjoyed reading them. Merry Christmas!
Best wishes for the new year!

- from original message -
Dear neighbors,
It was quite a holiday!  I hope you can say the same. No. 2 daughter came from her home across the sea, we rented a car and drove the endless turnpike to Massachusetts to celebrate with the rest of the family. We laughed a lot, ate too much, starting with the cookies made from my mother’s traditional recipes—fondly remembered flavors of my youth—anise, ginger, sesame, citrus, a wee bit of rum, chocolate and especially butter!
We exchanged gifts, some silly, some I will cherish forever, though maybe never need. What do you give an eighty++ grandmother who wants nothing? Chocolate!!!
Attending Christmas Eve service sitting between my two daughters surrounded me with a warmth and security I had not felt in a long time. Not since I was a little girl sitting between my parents, to keep me from squirming I believe.
I closed my eyes and it was 6:30 PM on Christmas Eve in a little German Lutheran congregation on the East side of Detroit. The fathers in their best suits, the mothers with an extra splash of Midnight in Paris all over themselves. The children lined up according to height in the basement Sunday school room ready to troop up the stairs, through the pastor’s study (the only time we would ever see this room, an ordinary study, btw,) except for the few boys who would some day be married in the little church. Like the children on Christmas Eve, grooms, about to be married would enter the Sanctuary from the Pastor’s study [snip]
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The message is available in full at Message https://groups.io/g/clevelandpark/message/220958

#220975

Dear Eleanor,

What an honor to read your Christmas childhood memory.

Keep those memories coming. They are so calming during these uncertain times.

Happy New Year,

Joan

Thank you, Eleanor, for taking the time to share with us your 2024 Christmas events and memories of your fascinating descriptions of your childhood Yuletides.

Happy New Year!

 - from original message -
Dear neighbors,
It was quite a holiday!  I hope you can say the same. No. 2 daughter came from her home across the sea, we rented a car and drove the endless turnpike to Massachusetts to celebrate with the rest of the family. We laughed a lot, ate too much, starting with the cookies made from my mother’s traditional recipes—fondly remembered flavors of my youth—anise, ginger, sesame, citrus, a wee bit of rum, chocolate and especially butter!
We exchanged gifts, some silly, some I will cherish forever, though maybe never need. What do you give an eighty++ grandmother who wants nothing? Chocolate!!!
Attending Christmas Eve service sitting between my two daughters surrounded me with a warmth and security I had not felt in a long time. Not since I was a little girl sitting between my parents, to keep me from squirming I believe.
I closed my eyes and it was 6:30 PM on Christmas Eve in a little German Lutheran congregation on the East side of Detroit. The fathers in their best suits, the mothers with an extra splash of Midnight in Paris all over themselves. The children lined up according to height in the basement Sunday school room ready to troop up the stairs, through the pastor’s study (the only time we would ever see this room, an ordinary study, btw,) except for the few boys who would some day be married in the little church. Like the children on Christmas Eve, grooms, about to be married would enter the Sanctuary from the Pastor’s study [snip]
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The message is available in full at Message https://groups.io/g/clevelandpark/message/220958

#220993

I agree. Thanks for your Christmas chronicles. Hope you do it every year. 

Happy New Year!

Mary Margaret 
Glover Park
Calvert St.

- previous message -
 ﻿Dear Eleanor,
What an honor to read your Christmas childhood memory.
Keep those memories coming. They are so calming during these uncertain times.
Happy New Year,

- from original message -
Dear neighbors,
It was quite a holiday!  I hope you can say the same. No. 2 daughter came from her home across the sea, we rented a car and drove the endless turnpike to Massachusetts to celebrate with the rest of the family. We laughed a lot, ate too much, starting with the cookies made from my mother’s traditional recipes—fondly remembered flavors of my youth—anise, ginger, sesame, citrus, a wee bit of rum, chocolate and especially butter!
We exchanged gifts, some silly, some I will cherish forever, though maybe never need. What do you give an eighty++ grandmother who wants nothing? Chocolate!!!
Attending Christmas Eve service sitting between my two daughters surrounded me with a warmth and security I had not felt in a long time. Not since I was a little girl sitting between my parents, to keep me from squirming I believe.
I closed my eyes and it was 6:30 PM on Christmas Eve in a little German Lutheran congregation on the East side of Detroit. The fathers in their best suits, the mothers with an extra splash of Midnight in Paris all over themselves. The children lined up according to height in the basement Sunday school room ready to troop up the stairs, through the pastor’s study (the only time we would ever see this room, an ordinary study, btw,) except for the few boys who would some day be married in the little church. Like the children on Christmas Eve, grooms, about to be married would enter the Sanctuary from the Pastor’s study [snip]
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The message is available in full at Message https://groups.io/g/clevelandpark/message/220958