"I am the wisest man alive, for I know one thing, and that is that I know nothing." ~Socrates

Christmas was always the best. Not just the day, but the entire month.
Before global warming became so severe, there was always inches of snow covering the ground. My little brother and I would play for hours in the snow. Making forts in the massive drifts that would form along the wall of the Mormon Church (which was, ironically, the house my mother grew up in) next door. The evergreen shrubs lining the front of the house were ideal for walking across when thickly blanketed by the snow. We made snow angels in the back yard, and snowmen in the front.
We'd come in from our daily playground to delicious Tom & Jerry's that my grandma made from scratch (only 1, that we had to share, as this perfect hot toddy was for adults) with freshly ground nutmeg, perfectly whipped egg whites and a good bit of Christian Brother's Brandy.
We would all sit in the living room, listen to Bing Crosby's record of dreams for a White Christmas, the adults would talk and my brother and I would count our gifts to see who had more under the 7', synthetic, frosted tree covered in blue twinkling lights. I always, through no fault of my brother's, had more as I had a different father who would send up a truck load of gifts from Austin every year...As I've said before, I was spoiled.
When counting was done, we'd rearrange our ornaments and try to place our favorites in the best, most highly viewable light. Looking for and preparing the spot for the new one we'd receive on Christmas Eve.
Such a wonderful time...as it should always be.
Christmas of '85 was the last of the huge family events. The house was full with us, Uncle Mon, Aunt Tina and her family of four, Great Aunt Wanda, and Cousin Sean.
The day started around 6 a.m., with Marcus and me running to wake up mom and grandpa. Grandma, always up by 4 a.m., was in the kitchen drinking coffee and starting preparations for the holiday feast. My brother and I paced and whined for everyone to come to the living room, as it was past time to open the presents, while everyone dressed and got ready for the day. Sadly, we could only open 1/2 of our gifts as we had to wait for everyone else to arrive.
I was most excited to get the Sweet Rose Barbie, who smelled like heaven and wore a beautiful gown of white with red velvet hearts on the skirt and a red velvet bodice. Marcus was taken with his newest Transformer. We sat and played as mom and grandma started to work. Mom started to make the hor'deurves (relish trays, cheese trays, meat trays and most importantly the ham rolls) while grandma whipped up waffles - again, from scratch, we did not eat from boxes - with warm strawberries and whipped cream.
The morning progressed, and the family started pulling into the drive around noon. Everyone sat in the living room, opened the remaining gifts, snacked on the pre-dinner delights, listened to ol' Bing and played with the toys we'd all received. There was laughter all over the house and hugs every time you turned around.
By 2 o'clock the house was filled with the mouth watering aroma of the prime rib roasting in the oven. Grandma pulled out the crystal and silverware and helped me set the tables. I placed down all of the mats and linens, followed by the crystal platters, then the crystal bowls and glasses...finally, to the silverware, where grandma would sweetly remind me where the correctly sized forks belong.
Grandma began bringing out the food by 4 o'clock. The buffet table was so beautiful, with the gilded mirror behind it, the candles lit, and the prime rib steaming. The table was full with green salad, ambrosia salad, soups, baked potatoes, baked sweet potatoes, asparagus, cranberry sauce, ham, red wine, white wine...it was a king's feast, that would be followed with the pumpkin pie now baking in the oven and Aunt Wanda's minced meat pie cooling in the kitchen.
I got to sit at the grown up table, the huge ornately carved dinner table with matching chairs cushioned in green velvet, while the "little" kids had to go to the kitchen table and eat off the regular platters, being almost 9 years old and being so privilaged is another sign of how much the favorite I really was.
Grandma always said grace, Psalm 23 and then we dove in. I poured the delicious au jus all over my potato and meat, drowned my sweet potato in butter and cinnamon, and quickly asked for my second cut of beef. Everyone laughed, complimented the fine meal, drank and laughed some more.
By 6 we were all able to attempt dessert, which we'd take to different parts of the house (the adults the dining room, the kids the living room and a few in the family room in the basement). By 9 o'clock, us children were worn with all the activity and my cousins falling asleep in various areas of the house, grandma and mom had all of the dishes cleaned, the crystal back in the cabinet, the silverware placed back in their wood case and (for those of us still awake) we sat in the living room with the only lights coming from the tree, the fire that was burning, and the glowing lights of the outside decoration, watched the snow fall so elegantly, sipped Tom & Jerry's and listened as I attempted Silent Night (I was still early in my lessons) on the piano.
Yes, that indeed was a perfect day.