January 3, 2009
The memories we keep
I had a pretty quiet holiday season this year. My son wasn’t able to get time off from his casino job, so once again I had no family close by to celebrate with. Naw, this isn’t a woe-is-me-tale. I’ve been empty-nesting for a lot of years and have learned to enjoy what I have rather than mourn what I’m missing. Really, it’s been a very satisfying time for me. The Saturday before Christmas saw the culmination of a community effort I’ve been involved with for the last two holiday seasons. A group of volunteers delivered slippahs (slippers - local word for rubber sandals) to homeless children living on the beaches and in shelters. The slippahs were the focal point of the project, but we also passed out books, toys, clothes and snacks. It was an exhausting and emotionally draining day, but one I wouldn’t have missed for anything. Christmas is magical for children, whether or not they have a chimney (or a home) and the children we visited that day brought the magic and joy to life for me.
When I think back on the 2008 holiday season I’ll probably remember it as the last one that I spent in Hawaii, the one when I didn’t bother with a tree or decorations because there are boxes and paint buckets and miscellaneous hardware scattered around my almost-ready-to-sell house. My son and I have already made plans to have a late holiday celebration when he comes to visit me in my new home. We’re hoping that he and his girlfriend can get time off together for the trip. Maybe we’ll make some new memories then.
Memories are funny things and not always completely under our control. When I think of my son’s second Christmas the first thought that emerges is not about the table and chair set I had painstakingly painted and decorated for his room, or the big truck full of letter blocks I was sure he’d love. I don’t remember what we had for a Christmas feast or what went into his stocking. What I remember is the 99¢ Burger King pillow doll that was almost an afterthought. It became his security blanket, sharing his bed and dragging though food and dirt for a year or so until one last washing finally shredded its cheap fabric.
When I think of Thanksgivings during my teens it’s not the memorable meals or family gatherings that come to mind. What I remember first is my mom’s floor. My childhood home lost its roof when Hurricane Betsy blew through in September of 1965. The roof was replaced promptly, but repairs to the interior of the house drug out for over a year. The week before Thanksgiving in 1966 the major repairs were finally finished when new vinyl flooring was installed in the kitchen. Mom loved that floor! The design simulated four inch tiles in a blue willow-type pattern, but with horses featured on many of the tiles. It was a thick, cushioned vinyl, which I think was fairly new back then. After a year of living with sagging ceilings and torn-out walls, Mom was so proud of her re-done house, and especially her antiqued blue cabinets and that floor. Alas, the love affair didn’t last. Removing the turkey from the oven the next week, Mom slipped on that shiny new vinyl. The turkey took wing, its juices splashing on cabinets, appliances and, of course, the floor. Mom slipped several times trying to get up and by the time we thought of the roasting pan it was too late. It had scorched its shape into the vinyl, all the way to the backing. Dad later fitted a patch into the burned spot, but the visible seam remained a sore spot with Mom until the end of her days. The rest of us could laugh about the roasted turkey that flew, but never in Mom’s presence.
It’s the oddball and hilarious moments of holidays past that embed themselves most vividly in our memories. Thus I know what will be remembered about Christmas of 2007. It was only a year ago. Right now I recall the dinner menu and the friends I shared it with. I remember the gifts I sent out and the ones that were given to me. A few years down the road those will have been rolled into the big fuzzy ball of holiday memories, where there’s not much to distinguish one year from the next. Well, they would except for the poisoned pralines.
It was Christmas Eve. I’d already made brownies, fudge and cookies for the traditional holiday goodie plates which I planned to deliver to several neighbors. I hadn’t made pralines since I left the South almost twenty years ago. Thinking the neighbors might enjoy those unfamiliar delicacies, I dug out an old recipe and cooked up a double batch. I had shaped the first dozen or so patties when I noticed something odd about the candy thermometer I’d laid on the waxed paper-covered counter. There was water seeping from the outer glass sleeve. The thermometer had apparently cracked while I was monitoring the candy and steam had been captured inside. Now it was cooling and the condensed vapor was draining away. It still looked perfectly fine, so it must have been a hairline crack. I was relieved that my beautiful pralines couldn’t possibly have glass chips in them. I popped one in my mouth (to make sure they tasted just right) and finished spooning the gooey pecan puddles out of the pan, then cleaned the kitchen while they cooled. An hour or so later I cut waxed paper squares and began wrapping the pralines individually and adding them to the heaps of cookies and fudge. I shouldn’t have bothered, because the doubts had already taken shape. I didn’t think that any mercury had left the thermometer. I was almost positive it hadn’t. Surely it would have been visible as it oozed out, right? And even if it had leaked, it would have been only a teeny-tiny bit, not enough to harm anyone … arrrrrrrrgh! I couldn’t let myself go there. I ate another of the contaminated beauties, just to prove myself stubborn, I guess, and tossed the remainder in the rubbish bin.
Christmas of 2007. Yeah, I remember. That’s the year I didn’t poison the neighbors.
[tags]Christmas, holidays, memories, nostalgia, thanksgiving[/tags]
Posted by skeet @ 10:53 pm • Society & culture
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January 4th, 2009 at 4:25 am, sassymonkey Says:
hahahaha. Not poisoning the neighbours is good. I’m sure they appreciate it.
January 4th, 2009 at 10:53 am, skeet Says:
It seemed like a good idea at the time, Sassymonkey!
January 4th, 2009 at 12:41 pm, cady Says:
the story about the candy is a fun memory. i’m glad you were able to give to the homeless. helping out those in need is one of my favorite parts of the holidays.
January 4th, 2009 at 1:05 pm, skeet Says:
I was devastated when I had to toss out the pralines, Cady, but it’s funny to look back on it now.
I’ll be moving to a different locale soon, but I know I’ll be searching for ways to keep interacting with the homeless, especially homeless children. I just hope there won’t be as many of them in Texas as there are in Hawaii!
Mahalo for visiting skeet’s stuff. I hope you’ll be back soon!
January 4th, 2009 at 3:23 pm, Barbara Says:
I really enjoyed this post. I hope you enjoy your new beginnings in Texas!
January 4th, 2009 at 8:15 pm, Connie Says:
I actually remember the praline story. Your poor Mom, floor and turkey! Reminds me a bit of A Christmas Story movie when the dogs eat the turkey.
January 4th, 2009 at 9:36 pm, skeet Says:
Mahalo Barbara and welcome to skeet’s stuff! I have a lot of family in the part of Texas I’m going to, so it’s a homecoming of sorts. I’m looking forward to it.
January 4th, 2009 at 9:37 pm, skeet Says:
I couldn’t remember if I’d mentioned the praline on my blog before Connie. Guess I did!
Strange, isn’t it, how many holiday memories center around food that never made it to the plate, lol!
January 5th, 2009 at 5:00 am, Lee Says:
Not poisoning the neighbours is always a good thing (especially if you like them)!
I had me a “big truck full of letter blocks.” Wish I still had it.
The first time I heard about the praline story, I remember feeling a little bit better about having to toss a batch of nut brittle when I melted a spoon into it!
http://leesvoice.blogspot.com/2007/11/life-lesson-learned-through-making.html
So much to learn.
January 5th, 2009 at 6:58 pm, skeet Says:
That was the first year they come out with the “Tuff Stuff” blocks, Lee. the kid did love them, but it was the Burger King doll that was the real hit.
Oh, so sad about the brittle! You know that I know just how you felt! Such a waste!