Each December, we'd wait for my dad to come home from an annual conference the first week of the month. Once he returned, it was time to put up the tree and decorate, officially beginning our Christmas celebration. Mom would put on a stack of records while we decorated, including Brenda Lee, Elvis, and Alvin & the Chipmunks. We didn't do outside decorations, but let me tell you - we had Pringles cans that housed miniature Christmas scenes, so we lacked for nothing.
Usually the last weekend before Christmas, we'd exchange family gifts (gifts from Mom and Dad, not Santa). Once school was out, we'd head to Virginia. Somehow, my folks would pack all our unwrapped Santa gifts along with 4 people's luggage into the trunk of the Caprice Classic without us seeing them. My brother and I had an invisible line halfway across the back seat, where neither dared to extend their belongings or body into the other's territory. Again, we'd listen to Brenda Lee, Elvis, and the Chipmunks - this time via 8-track tape. Mom and Dad would pump my brother full of Dramamine and he'd sleep most of the trip with his mouth slung open, and I would read voraciously (this was before I developed car sickness that now makes me want to hurl after simply reading a text or glancing at a map when in a car). At times I would gaze out the car window, taking in the decorations of those who decorated outside their homes, or gazing into the passing cars (we got passed a lot), wondering where those folks were going and if they had a family as wonderful as mine. And as the years progressed into adolescence, sometimes I'd fantasize about catching the eye of some cute boy who would demand his parents stop the car because he was sure he'd found the perfect girl for him riding alongside them in the car with Ohio plates.
Eventually, we'd arrive at a winding gravel driveway that led up a hill to my Mema's house. The excitement and anticipation was bursting in my heart!!! We'd made it to MeMa's!!
Soon the "exhale" of arrival was replaced with bustling, unpacking the car (yet somehow not seeing the Santa gifts), remarking on anything that had changed in the house since our summer visit, playing with dogs, plugging in MeMa's hideous green Christmas candles in each of her many windows, and getting all caught up on the gossip of a small town - whether we wanted to or not.
When our cousins arrived, we'd spend the first 15 minutes feeling awkward and unsure, but would quickly find our groove as our parents shouted at us to "Settle down!" and "Stop running!" and "Close the door - we're not trying to heat the outside!"
When we'd head over to Granny and PaPa's house, the same phenomenon occurred with the cousins. Soon those boys would be dragging me through briar patches in a skirt, lighting fire to my shoelaces, and showing me all the wonderful nuances of country living. At Granny's we'd patiently wait for sightings of the neighbors we'd affectionately nicknamed "Stringbean" and "Butterbean" - a tall thin man, and a short, less thin woman who'd make their way up the road to explore the dumpster and return with whatever treasures they'd found.
My cousins were at the forefront of my mind as I selected clothes to take on the trip. It was important that I demonstrated that I had fashion sense and was hip.
I cannot impress upon you how vivid my memories are of climbing the creaky steps at MeMa's each Christmas Eve with my brother, where we'd lie awake by the wood-burning stove for what seemed like hours, discerning what sounded like hooves on the tin roof.
When it was time to head back to Ohio, MeMa sent us off with warm ham biscuits to eat in the car, saving time and precious money on our 495 mile trip home. I consistently felt irritated because she was interfering with the likelihood of me getting a rare fast food meal. Now, I'd choose those ham biscuits every day and twice on Sunday instead of a fast food meal. Some things only come with time, maturity, and perspective.
I hope you've been somewhat entertained with my Christmas childhood memories. If not, no worries, I really wrote this for myself to capture and record the magic of Christmas in Virginia.
Merry Christmas!
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