All happy Christmases are alike – compounded of food, friends, memories, and most of all, family, complete with love and aggravation.  We had a quiet one this year – no Twelve Days of Houseguests.click  Only Luli for four days, overlapping with Joe’s daughter Leah for three, overlapping with a day visit from Rick (Joe’s brother) and Catherine, plus two cousins and a girlfriend.

Before Christmas we went south for visits with family.  Tuesday night was a big Hanuukah dinner at Joe’s Dad’s house in Delray.  Fifteen people, matzoh ball soup, brisket, latkes, broccoli, apple cake and rugeleh.  The three children lit the menorah, played dreidel, and received generous money gifts.  We did not get to read the Hannukah story (the kids were a little out of control), but the menorah made an impression on Amanda, and each time we saw one in the following week she would tell me which day of Hannukah it was.

BY TERRY KATZ FROM 123RF.COM

The day after we returned from south Florida,  I picked up my sister Luli in Jacksonville.  Her plane was late, but not very, and we were home in time for dinner with the Hilkers.  Mary Anne and Larry are our only old friends with a young child.  Ariel is eleven, and she and Amanda have been friends since Amanda was born.  They call each other sister, and play and fight as though they were.

We spent a balmy evening outside in their back yard, with pizza and half a bushel of oysters.  Joe and Larry shucked most of them and fed them to Luli in a steady stream.  Amanda rode Ariel’s scooter around and around the patio, stopping on each circuit for another oyster warmed on the grill.

BY LENA GROENHALL AT WWW.123RF.COM

On Christmas Eve, Luli, Amanda and I  went to the children’s service at United Church of Gainesville.  I made Amanda leave her book in the car, and  told Luli she should leave her battered daypack, which serves as both luggage and purse. I had no good reason for either of these rules, just a fuzzy feeling that it was not respectful or appropriate – shades of my mother!  My bossiness made all of us cross, but it couldn’t ruin the service.

Sandy, one of the ministers, greeted Amanda at the door with a Wise Man figure to put on the creche when they came to that part of the Christmas story.  Amanda took it reluctantly, and told me “I don’t want to do it.”  “Okay, you can just take it back to Sandy.”  Which she did, after choosing seats for us in the front row.
   
Andy, another minister, told the Christmas story, with frequent pauses at the appropriate place for children to bring up their creche figures, or for all of us to sing a carol.  The children, many of them barely walking, many in lavish Christmas dress, carried their lambs, shepherds, and angels to the creche table, where Sandy helped place them.  Amanda’s figure wasn’t missed, as there were about a dozen Three Wise Men.

BY KATERINA STEPANOVA AT WWW.123RF.COM

The brief sermon in doggerel was accompanied by a slide show of Mary and Joseph, played by a very pregnant church member and her husband, searching in vain for a room at Gainesville’s seedy motels.  The service ended with everyone gathering in the courtyard with candles to sing Silent Night.  We sang many traditional carols that afternoon, with not a Rudolph or Santa in the bunch, and I was glad for Amanda to be learning the Christmas carols that I love.

We usually decorate our tree on Christmas Eve, so we had waited to buy one until we returned from South Florida.  But on December 22 all the tree lots were empty, and the tents were coming down.  Finally, at Home Depot, Joe found four trees, and rather than take advantage of having the last trees in Gainesville, the clerk gave him one for free, and sold him a lopsided bare pine wreath for a dollar.  I had found a bag of decorations – ribbons, small pinecones and a few balls – for 25 cents at the Children’s Home Society thrift store. So I wrapped the ribbon around the wreath, added a rumpled red tartan bow, some small pinecones, and a teddy bear and shiny balls. Joe worries that I will turn into Martha Stewart.
                               

After Joe wound the lights around the tree, Amanda hung all but the highest ornaments. She promptly broke the blown glass ornament Joe and I bought in New Orleans, and I told her “It’s a tradition – we break one ornament every year – it’s good to have it over with.”

So many of the ornaments carry memories.  The yarn ornaments I made with Amanda’s mother and uncle when they were young.  The punk snow man my son made, with a red mohawk and a safety pin in his ear.  On the mantel, tiny creche figures from Amanda’s uncle, and Amanda Angel, a little figurine I bought when she was three.  Missing is the ornament that was dearest to me – the angel Amanda’s mother made out of a toilet paper tube and a styrofoam ball decorated with glitter and spangles.  It topped our Christmas tree for fourteen years, until our relationship deteriorated and she took it for her own tree.   Now we have three ornaments made by Amanda, including a cup of hot chocolate with marshmallows.
  

On Christmas morning Amanda opened her stocking presents with great enthusiasm and appreciation.  Among other treats were a  tree made of cardboard, which, placed in a magic solution, grew fluffy crystals in 24 hours, and a small rubber rhinoceros which floated in a bowl of water until it became a large rubber rhinoceros, after passing through a slimy stage.

After breakfast (eggs, sausage, bagels, lox, cream cheese, grapefruit, strawberries and Calvados) we opened the presents under the tree.  Again Amanda took time to appreciate each gift, even the slippers and calendar, and then cheered us on as we opened our own.  I was thrilled by her graciousness and joy.  Although I am her mother now, I am still a grandmother, and easily impressed.

We gave her a dance program for the Wii, so after presents we all danced.  I flopped after about five minutes (no stamina, MUST resume regular exercise).  Joe lasted thirty minutes, while Amanda and Luli continued for a full hour.

Leah arrived the next day and we had another gift exchange.  The highlights were stick-on nails for Amanda, a book of poetry by Lucille Clifton for me, and for Leah, an invitation to accompany Joe to South Africa for two weeks this summer.  Amanda and I had both declined to go, but now she said, “When I said I didn’t want to go again, I didn’t know Leah was going.”  She adores Leah, her big sister, who indulges and plays with her while using all her middle- school-teacher tricks to keep her in line.  It’s a lovely relationship.

We always save our big Christmas dinner for the day when Leah arrives, and it was our best dinner ever. (Steaks, spicy grilled vegetable ratatouille, garlic greens (mustard and chard), mashed potatoes, apple and pumpkin pies with butter crusts and tangerine zest in the pumpkin.  Whipped cream and ice cream, OF COURSE.)  Luli and I love to cook together.  She is a professional cook, and I frequently seek her advice, but she insists that at my house she is the sous chef. The pies were worthy of the holiest of holidays.
 
Bruce and Iris came for dinner.  We have had many Christmas dinners with them and their two children.  But now Jordan lives in New York, and Casey has moved to Paris.  Iris had just returned from a visit, and told us that Casey has made her home there, and intends to stay.  Bruce said ruefully, “I guess our new hobby is visiting Paris.”  Leah has chosen New Orleans, and is making it her own. With all the Muu Muu Mamas, I rejoice when the children grow up and create their own good lives.

When Rick and his family came, we went canoeing on the Santa Fe River, after a feast of cold cuts and cake. We all  enjoyed it except Leah, who remembered too late that she hates canoeing.  It didn’t help that Amanda didn’t paddle much, and in attempting to splash Joe, had splashed Leah instead.  The day was way too cold for water fights, but Leah was very good-natured in her complaint.  We all went out for sushi, Leah and I ordered bizarre and very alcoholic drinks, and then Rick and his family took off.
    
There were more feasts and celebrations.  On New Year’s  Eve the Hilkers came for supper (salmon, parslied potatoes, greens and fruitcake). On New Year’s Day Sh’mal and Linda, old HOME Van friends, came for lunch out on the deck (egg salad, green salad, cheese, pumpernickel and oranges) and then we went to Peggy’s big retirement party in High Springs, where I saw most of the Muu Muu’s and many of their grown kids.  And that night, with Amanda in bed, Joe and I celebrated in the living room and danced to Beau Soleil, with a fire in the fireplace and the Christmas tree lights blinking.

The holidays wore me out, and I yearned for an empty house, and solitude.  I am thrilled to be back at work. Every year one of us says, "Can't we skip Christmas?"  But I wouldn't have missed it for the world.

 A message to my readers: If you have enjoyed The Feminist Grandma, please do me a favor.  Recommend it to a couple of friends, or to your "friends" on Facebook. And if you know any agents, editors or publishers, send them my way!

NEXT WEEK: THE FAIRY QUEEN

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