WWQP Bulletin Board Chat

CHRISTMAS PAST

Perhaps the clearest memory of Christmas of my past for some reason has recently emerged to my consciousness. When I was five or six years old my neighborhood pal, ten months older than I, convinced me that we were too old for dolls. My letter to Santa left on the coffee table by the fireplace with a dish of cookies stated that I am too old for dolls so please don’t leave any doll clothes. I’m sure my DM or DF helped with the spelling. DB and I were sent off to bed and tucked in by DF as he reserved that ritual for himself while Mom was no doubt downstairs breathing a sigh of relief. In my case there was always a bit of Shakespeare as I said “Good night sweet prince” and he responded with whatever Romeo’s response was. This was during WWII time when recycling was the rule of the day and store shelves were sparsely occupied by anything not absolutely necessary and on top of that, our parents were veterans of the great depression when there wasn’t a spare penny. Probably still wasn’t.

Guess what Mom had been doing until midnight for nights after kiddie bedtime? She was making a beautiful taffeta dress from my favorite dress which I’d outgrown. I remember that fabric; it was off white with tiny pink roses. Mom was also knitting a pink sweater adorned with faux pearl buttons to go with the dress. Of course when I opened my prezzies I loved it.

I am now 72 years ago and Mom died 45 years ago and Pop 33 years ago. I still smile at times and at others wish I’d had the sensitivity to apologize to her. I’ve felt some discomfort over that. However I found the yellowed note among some of her things as an adult and tell myself, since she was a very sensible person with a keen Irish wit, that she kept it because it amused her. As a mother and grandmother I do see the humor in it. I sure got a lot of mileage out of that doll, given to me previously by paternal grandmother of the wet kisses. I was very young when she died and that doll and those kisses to be endured politely are the only memories I have of her.

One of my DDs wrote virtually the same note to Santa but I hadn’t been losing sleep making clothes for her doll. She didn’t get spelling help and she spelled it cothles. That word morphed into cothles in our family ever since.

Jane, feeling the holiday spirit and all the memories that flood forth this time of year for good or ill.

posted by Jane in NC @ 10:22 AM