Merry Christmas, Happy Solstice, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Jumada Al-Akhirah, and Festivus – for the rest of us. Since we have been airing grievances all year, we can move right on to the feats of strength.
What – you’re not familiar with Festivus? It falls on Dec. 23 every year to “get a leg up on Christmas” according to its creator, Frank Costanza, played to perfection by Jerry Stiller on Seinfeld. Frank got fed up with the commercial and religious aspects of Christmas, so he made up an alternative.
There are many rituals to observe when celebrating Festivus. Instead of a glittering Christmas tree, a plain aluminum pole is erected. There are no presents. A clock is put in a bag and nailed to the wall. The traditional feast is meatloaf on a bed of lettuce. The airing of grievances involves telling everyone else at the table how they have disappointed you over the past year. The feats of strength occur during dinner, and Festivus is over when the head of the household is pinned.
Your family probably has its own holiday traditions, lovingly carried on and shared with the younger generations, who will in turn teach your descendants even though they gave you some serious eye roll during the teen years.
Our family was no different. My dad’s side of the family was run by my grandmother and her three sisters, all of whom lived within a couple of miles of us in the Bronx. Two of the sisters had remained single and lived together, while Grandma and the other sister had husbands and adultish children, of whom my dad was the oldest.
The single gals, Great Aunts Willie and Corrie, were the best babysitters. Being childfree, they loved to spoil the kids and grandkids of their sisters. They owned a two story duplex with an actual back yard – rare for the Bronx. There was an apartment sized stand alone freezer in the kitchen which was full of every frozen confection one could imagine and was always the first stop when we got to Willie and Corrie’s. There were also beautiful glass bowls of M&Ms and other candies adorning every surface in the house. It was awesome.
All four sisters were dancers and showgirls back in the roaring 20’s, as was their mother and her sisters before them, but by the time I was born they had settled into more grownup careers. Aunt Corrie was the wardrobe mistress for George Ballanchine’s New York City Ballet and my big sister and I got to play in all the beaded and sequined tulle and velvet costumes backstage. Attending The Nutcracker every year at City Center and later at brand spanky new Lincoln Center is one of my best childhood Christmas memories.
Great Aunt Corrie deBrauw
Madame Pourmel(l) and Corrie deBrauw(r) in the wardrobe room at the NYC Ballet
On Christmas Day, we usually headed to Great Aunt Tina’s house. She and husband Ray had a huge 3 story house – also with a backyard – a few blocks from Willie and Corrie’s. The adults drank whiskey sours, and there was the most serious ping pong I have ever seen outside the Olympics in the basement. No kids allowed during these games – too dangerous. Just sweaty men smoking cigars whacking that little white ball so hard it’s amazing it remained spherical.
All ambulatory family members were encouraged to play a game called Fruit Basket, which I highly recommend you try this Christmas. Each player chooses a fruit name and an equal number of chairs – minus one – are arranged in a circle. The seatless person stands in the center and yells out two or more fruits. Those players have to scamper to another seat. The new seatless player goes to the center. Repeat. If the center person yells “fruit basket” everyone switches seats. The game is over when at least one child is crying and furniture is destroyed.
That whole side of the family were and are hilarious, smart-alecky jokers. Quick, funny, and cutting, while simultaneously loving, fiercely loyal and supportive of each other.
Mom’s side of the family was more cerebral and we usually drove out to Brooklyn and Queens the day after Christmas to see them. I remember driving through freezing temperatures with the car windows closed, but that wouldn’t stop Dad from smoking his cigar with us kids laying on the floor of the back seat trying to breathe. I think you can be arrested for that now.
Mom’s side of the family had a unique way of decorating the Christmas tree. While we were strictly limited to two or three strands of tinsel at a time, they would grab a wad and hurl it at the tree. Ultimately, the effect was not all that different from the painstaking approach in the Merry apartment.
3320 Reservoir Oval – Apt. 4E. Two bedrooms, one bath with three kids – how did they do it? Mr. Standish and I need 2 bathrooms for just the two of us because we start drinking coffee every morning at the same time. Somehow my parents made it work.
Dad loved a ginormous Christmas tree, but we had eight foot ceilings. He would usually bring the tree home after a martini or three and he’d have to take a couple of feet off the bottom. It would still hit the ceiling.
One of our Christmas trees – photobombs Tony the Pony (mine) and Chatty Kathy (sister Tracy’s)
On Christmas morning, he would make pancakes and bacon. The Jewish kids in 5E would come down and sneak a little bacon into their kosher diet and help us try out our new toys. We would go upstairs and help light their menorah and play dreidel. That’s the best thing about growing up in a diverse city. Learning about cultures and traditions that others hold dear and how they bond families and people. One doesn’t have to share others’ beliefs to respect and admire them.
Whatever your traditions are, my wish is for you and your family to enjoy the peace and joy this season brings. I’m off to enjoy some leftover meatloaf with lettuce and bask in the glory of the Festivus pole.
