Goodfellows52: The 12 Days of Christmas, Day 12: Merry Christmas....

Goodfellows52: The 12 Days of Christmas, Day 12: Merry Christmas....: “A merry Christmas to everybody! A happy New Year to all the world!”       - Ebenezer Scrooge from Charles Dickens' "A Christmas Car...

The 12 Days of Christmas, Day 12: Merry Christmas.

“A merry Christmas to everybody! A happy New Year to all the world!”       - Ebenezer Scrooge from Charles Dickens' "A Christmas Carol."

AUBURN, Maine  — Like the Cratchit family, we were making rather merry as we opened our Christmas gifts Tuesday morning.

We are both employed, consider ourselves lucky to have presents under the tree and a sturdy roof over our heads in an area of the world where there is no fighting in the streets.

I think we all cleaned up on Christmas. 

Anthony startled his parents with his good taste. We discovered he is a prudent shopper and purchased all his gifts at bargain-basement prices at church fair. 

My son gave me a copy of the movie, "PT-109," the first two seasons of "Combat," "13 Rue Madelaine," "MASH," and "Shane." Terri received episodes of "Murder She Wrote,"  "Agatha Christie," and the anniversary edition of "Gone with the Wind."

Anthony was on the receiving end of many gifts. He is a voracious reader of history so we surprised the lad with a copy of James MacPherson's  "War on the Waters."  MacPherson is an authority on the Civil War, and he has written another great book about the war's naval battles.

I enjoyed my coffee and added a little special something to it as we crowded around the tree to open gifts on Christmas morning.

I tried to keep memories of past Christmases from reappearing, but I couldn't stop thinking about all that has went before in my life.

That's what happens when you go on living. Those bittersweet memories will always get in the way as long as we remain above ground.

My two sisters called from Massachusetts, and I was grateful to hear their voices. I called my dad who is struggling to speak in complete sentences. Alzheimer's is winning and we are all slowly losing a father to this excruciating disease.

There are moments when I think I have forgotten to call my mother, but reality brutally backhands me when I remember she is no longer in her kitchen drinking coffee and listening to the news.

The exchange of gifts continued and I focused on the present. I watched the smiles on the faces of my son and wife when they ripped off the rapping of each gift.

We did something nice for someone else this Christmas. We invited an elderly neighbor, who has been knocked around in life like the rest of us, to spend the yuletide with us.

Who wants to spend a holiday alone? So we reached out to another human being because that is what this holiday is really all about.

We had just finished exchanging gifts when it began to snow hard.

I just added another spectacular memory of a wonderful Christmas.

That's what happens when you go on living.

Goodfellows52: Goodfellows52: The 12 Days of Christmas, Day 10: M...

Goodfellows52: Goodfellows52: The 12 Days of Christmas, Day 10: M...: Goodfellows52: The 12 Days of Christmas, Day 10: Mom and pop : “My idea of Christmas, whether old-fashioned or modern, is very simple: lovin...

The 12 Essays of Christmas Eve, Day 11: Christmas Eve

“Christmas is not as much about opening our presents as opening our hearts.”                                                                                                                               ― Janice Maeditere

AUBURN, Maine - I can point out the location of every bathroom on the Maine turnpike. That's important for a weary traveler to know after having a cup of coffee. 

I really do know every nook and cranny of this well-traveled highway.

Interstate 95 was the avenue I traveled every Christmas Eve to spend Christmas with my relatives in Revere for nearly quarter of a century.

We would spend an entire morning loading the car with presents and food. We sped off down the road for a two-hour trek, listening to Christmas music along the way.

Through the years, we battled snowstorms to reach our destiny. Nothing would stop us from spending the holiday with family.

Was it all worth it. Absolutely! I understand nothing lasts in this life, and every opportunity I got to be with the people I love during the holiday made our two-hour trip feel like two minutes.

But things changed. We brought a wonderful young man into the world, we got older, and people we loved passed away. We bought a house and established our roots in city located about 130 miles north of Boston.

We have been put through the ringer the last three years, with deaths and sickness that made our lives quite difficult. We haven't spent the last three holidays in the Boston area due to these tumultuous moments in our lives.

I was graciously invited to my sisters again for the holiday. She does a good job of entertaining family and guests, and it was kind of her to think of us.

But we remained at home again in the snowy foothills of Maine. My son wanted to wake up in the house on Christmas morning.

He is older and still enjoys our company. We are lucky.

I hope he continues to walk the strait and narrow without losing his balance. But if he falls, mom and dad will be there for him.

That's what parents do, and I like to think we do it well.

This Christmas eve, we continued on with one tradition, revived another, and started a new one.

I made the my mouth-watering shrimp linguine, but something wonderful happened in the kitchen — Anthony volunteered to help. And so we sat, the two of us peeling shrimp and talking about everything.

He worships my cooking and I enjoy watching my family enjoy my culinary talents.

After we had our fill of shrimp and pasta, we went out into the cold, dark night and lit a bunch of sparklers that had been laying around the house. We interrupted the quiet evening with our bright flares and endless laughter.

We do a lot of laughing and hugging in this family to preserve our sanity.

Later that evening, Anthony suggested taking a ride around the city to check out the Christmas lights. All of a sudden I was reminded of my parents who took us on a tour around the Greater Boston area see homes lit up like Roman candles.

My son came in the parlor to hug me and wished me goodnight.

I was watching the Mormon Tabernacle Choir perform Christmas music on Public Television.

"What about George Bailey," asked Anthony? "Aren't you worried about old George?"

"It's a Wonderful Life" was playing on another channel, but I switched it to listen to those angelic voices of the Tabernacle choir.

"George will be just fine," I told my son."And you will be just fine, too." 

Goodfellows52: The 12 Days of Christmas, Day 10: Mom and pop

Goodfellows52: The 12 Days of Christmas, Day 10: Mom and pop: “My idea of Christmas, whether old-fashioned or modern, is very simple: loving others. Come to think of it, why do we have to wait f...

The 12 Days of Christmas, Day 10: Mom and pop

“My idea of Christmas, whether old-fashioned or modern, is very simple: loving others. Come to think of it, why do we have to wait for Christmas to do that?” 

- Bob Hope

AUBURN, Maine — My father and mother were generous people. It explains why a dedicated teacher and stay-at-home mom were never wealthy.

They were far from perfect, but they believed in the greater good — especially during the holidays.

There is a lot to be said about both of them, but nobody can ever question their integrity and loyalty, and if they do, expect a fat lip from me. One disparaging comment about mom and pop and you will be looking at me from the ground!

My mother had hard time with the Christmas. She missed her mother, and like everybody else who has lost a loved one, the yuletide was rough on her heart. 

Dad complained about running around to get things done, and then there was the battle of the Christmas tree stand. Dad never came out on top, but I was introduced to a lot of sparkling adjectives as a young boy.

I am the oldest so I was called upon to make the holiday bearable for my parents who are no strangers to holiday stress. Panic ruled during the Blasi household when it was time to deck the halls. But there were two yuletide tasks that I performed, and I came to appreciate both assignments as I grew older.

Delivery boy

My father spent a bundle on buying booze for relatives and friends for Christmas, and like a pair of bootleggers, we delivered the wine around the Greater Boston area. I came to understand how rum runners felt in the South, when they raced around in their supped-up cars delivering moonshine to thirsty folks across the countryside.

Our short drives gave me an opportunity to spend quality time with a man who hated driving during the holidays. But Big Al and I braved the bumper-to-bumper traffic on Broadway and made our appointed rounds. 

Some of the arguments erupted over who would undertake the arduous chore of gift wrapping. 

I was the bag man who knocked at the door and handed the bottles over to good neighbors like musician and teacher Robert Marra and revered Revere High football coach Silvio Cella. Both men served their country during World War II. Marra was a medic, diving in foxholes to attend to the wounded. Cella was a Marine and acted like one on the gridiron. I played for him as a center. I admired both men for their courage and dedication to their country and community.

Other bottles of wine went to B.J. and Eddy Murano. B.J. flew fighter planes, including the P-51, in World War II and the Korean conflict and lived to tell about his experiences, which always fascinated me at the dinner table.

It seemed everybody got a bottle in Revere. Of course, we were also on the receiving of many bottles of booze. I thought about opening a tavern around the holidays. Some of those bottles went back with me to Maine.

I tried to make them last.

When I learned to drive, I delivered the bottles for my father when I reached 21. That was problem because I was offered a drink at each home. I turned down each offer, fearing I might not be able operate a motor vehicle.

My elderly father can no longer drive and the recipients of my father's generosity can no longer raise a toast to my dad.

It is just another holiday tradition that has become lost in the endless hallways of time.

Dinner for two

I became a good chef over the years, and when I raced down I-95 for Christmas, I started doing some of the cooking. My mother liked that and she enjoyed having me in her kitchen.

The kitchen was her fortress and her radio was the earpiece to the world. She would sit and talk for hours at the kitchen table while a 24-hour news stations provided background noise. When I began cooking during the holidays, she would put coffee on and regale me with stories about her childhood in Waterford, Pennsylvania.

Those recollections never got old, and I never humored her even though I knew her tales by heart. Cooking was just another way to reach her, and I think she began to enjoy the holidays at her age — with me doing the cooking, of course.

We talked about everything as I peeled shrimp and prepared a ham that would later be shipped to my sister's house up the street on Christmas Eve.

But her seat at the kitchen table remains empty. It has been three years since I cooked for my mother or delivered a bottle of wine for my father who is ill.

And yet, Christmas remains the most wonderful time of year for my family, but every holiday serves as another reminder of just how much those people meant to me.

Goodfellows52: The 12 Essays of Christmas, Day 9: The music

Goodfellows52: The 12 Essays of Christmas, Day 9: The music: " Music is a moral law. It gives soul to the universe, wings to the mind, flight to the imagination, and charm and gaiety to life and to ...

The 12 Essays of Christmas, Day 9: The music

"Music is a moral law. It gives soul to the universe, wings to the mind, flight to the imagination, and charm and gaiety to life and to everything."
                                                                                  - Plato

AUBURN, Maine — It happens every holiday season. We finish eating our turkey dinners and watching morning high school football games when radio stations across the nation begin blasting away with holiday music.

The airwaves are saturated with several versions of "White Christmas" and "I'll be Home for Christmas" playing on hundreds of stations across America.

There is no holding back and it continues until New Year's Day.

I get to the point where I could listen to rap music after nearly a month of "Grandma got Run over by a Reindeer."

Serves her right for assaulting our senses.

Black Friday is usually seen as the green light for the deluge of holiday music to begin pummeling our senses with 800 versions of "Silent Night." Sometimes, I believe radio is a co-conspirator that helps trigger the nation's buying spree during the Christmas rush.

This endless holiday music makes us all yearn for Bruce Springsteen or "The Lumineers" on the FM dial.

I enjoy Christmas music but listening to it 24-7 for nearly month can be strain on my ears. The music acts like a drug as you drift in and out of stores looking for gifts.

The hardest emotion I have to confront during the most wonderful time of year is the holiday music that dredges up memories of Christmas past, and that stings, especially without our mothers and a father battling a disease.

Look, Bing Crosby, Nat King Cole and Johnny Mathis are crooners who can turn a bad holiday song into gold. But when I try to listen to Neil Diamond sing the "Little Drummer Boy" song, I reach for the dial. Neil should have stepped aside and let the Harry Simeon Choir take sole possession of that piece because nobody does that sweet holiday tune justice than the choirs' angelic voices.

If you had enough of Bing, Bennett and The Carpenters, pick up a copy of "The Snowman." It is 1982 animated cartoon featuring music by English composer Howard Blake. This 26-minute gem, which was nominated for an Academy Award in 1982, features choirboy Peter Auty performing "Walking on Air." 

You like Christmas music?

Charlie Brown and the Peanuts are tough acts to follow when they sing "Hark the Herald" at the end of their Christmas special. What makes this holiday TV special delightful is jazz musician Vince Guaraldi's music.

But their is nothing like the old favorites that never get old.

Look, Christmas music can be inspiring even if you are a nonbeliever like me.

Goodfellows52: The 12 Essays of Christmas, Day 8: The food

Goodfellows52: The 12 Essays of Christmas, Day 8: The food: AUBURN, Maine   —  It is the most delicious time of year. It's the holiday season and whoop-dee-do — there's food everywhere. It's at work...

The 12 Essays of Christmas, Day 8: The food

“Christmas doesn't come from a store, maybe Christmas perhaps means a little bit more....” 
                                                                     ― Dr. Seuss, How the Grinch Stole Christmas

AUBURN, Maine  —  It is the most delicious time of year.

It's the holiday season and whoop-dee-do — there's food everywhere. It's at work, on television, the Net, in your home and in your face.

You'll get a belly full of turkey, fish, stuffing and steamed vegetables this season. And there will be plenty of booze for hardcore drinkers who enjoy a holiday glow.

I enjoy a glass of wine, not the whole damn bottle. Becoming an alcoholic was never one of my aspirations in life.

There is no letup to this holiday smorgasbord until after January 1.

Start thinking about hitting the gym five times a day to prevent putting a spread on your midsection.

People want to give you food during the holidays. It comes in the mail. Guests charge through your door with cakes and chocolate. I like that, but I don't like looking like jolly old St. Nick by the time New Year's Eve rolls around.

Way back when I was little tyke running amok through the neighborhoods surrounding McClure Street in Revere, my grandmother started cooking for Christmas Eve — and day — on December 1.

She was preparing a 50-course meal for an entire month. She was armed with minced garlic and plenty of olive oil, and not the crap you purchase at department stores. This stuff probably came from Italy. Remember, a majority of Italians are masters of their domain in the kitchen, and nobody prepared baccala, which is salt cod, like my grandmother.

When Christmas Eve rolled around, thousands of relatives, actually about 30, showed up with pies and pizza gaynors, and the lavish feast would last several hours until bloated guests waddled toward the door.

During dinner in the basement of my grandmother's house, the adults were seated at a huge wooden table that could survive a nuclear blast. Guests engaged in verbal confrontations that could be mistaken for verbal abuse. Politics, celebrities, sports — all topics were up for discussion at the table.

First came the pasta - usually raviolis smothered in homemade meat sauce - and then the turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing, corn. Fish was also a big favorite. Scallops, shrimp and baccala were just at your fingertips.

I was surrounded by cousins and aunts who urged me to eat everything on my plate because a kid was starving in an unnamed country. I wanted to know this child's name so I could send him all that unfinished food.

Nobody told me!

We talked about Santa Claus during one feast, and I found out that Santa didn't exist, which broke my heart.

Years later, my grandmother would allow me to take a sip of Anisette or wine at the dinner table.

Those memories of spectacular feasts are over 30 years old. Nearly all of those holiday guests are dead, but thoughts of them always reappear during Christmas. I refuse to allow time to take them away from me.

The last time there was a snowstorm on Christmas day in the Boston area, I believe, was in 1969. Snow made that holiday feast that much more special for me. A white Christmas, good food, and the comfort and security of being surrounded by loving relatives —  what more could a child of nine ask for?

Goodfellows52: The 12 Essays of Christmas, Day 7: Shopping

Goodfellows52: The 12 Essays of Christmas, Day 7: Shopping: The best of all gifts around any Christmas tree:  the presence of a happy family all wrapped up in each other.                             ...

The 12 Essays of Christmas, Day 7: Shopping

 "The best of all gifts around any Christmas tree:  the presence of a happy family all wrapped up in each other."                                                                                   ~Burton Hillis

AUBURN, Maine — I like Christmas shopping as much as I like having my teeth cleaned or receiving dozens of robo calls from politicians during an election year.

It's not the money. It is the time spent in a mall with a crowd of desperate people searching for that perfect give. Along the way, you become annoyed with the masses, the traffic, the winter weather and relatives. The Christmas music starts to sound like heavy metal as you look for an exit.

It's not fun. One year, I went off the deep end and yelled from my car window after spending an hour inside a crowded story on Black Friday in Portland.  I sped away screaming, "You are all nuts!"

My wife thought I needed help.

Never again!

When I find the courage to venture into a store during the holiday rush, I go in like the Marines — get in and get out! I can last an hour before suffering a mental break from a deluge of Christmas tunes and long lines at the checkout counter.

There is a thin veneer to my patience when it comes to holiday shopping.

And it's not like I go around shouting "bah humbug" in the store isles. It would attract too much attention and those guys in white suits would cart me off to the nearest funny farm.

I try to be pleasant.

Buying for my wife is easy. I don't ever, ever, ever, consider giving her a kitchen appliance for Christmas gift. Who the hell wants a blender for Christmas, and nothing says I don't love you more than brand new dishwasher.

If you go that route, you do so at your own peril. I don't want to be around when some poor bastard buys the little woman an iron.

There will be blood.

For me, clothes, books, gift cards and the occasional string of pearls are all wonderful gifts for a wife who tolerates me. I am a guy on a budget and I don't have wealth, like say, a conniving congressman or an overpaid CEO. But if I could, I would lasso the moon for Terri (See George Baile) and splurge on my son.

Clothes shopping for Terri is a cinch. She tells me the sizes and I plead for help from customer service reps who get a kick out of a husband with taste.

I need a women's touch when making delicate and important clothes purchases for my wife.

Shopping for my son is a different can of tuna. Toys are no longer a priority for him, and sometimes that breaks my heart. He is nearing adulthood, and I lost that little boy who would play with Hot Wheels for hours.

For Christmas, it will be skis, a class ring and unnamed gifts because I don't want to ruin his surprise on Christmas morning.

Gifts for me? I could care less.

When I reach for the coffee on Christmas morning and turn to see Anthony and Terri unwrapping gifts under the tree, I received everything I wanted on my holiday wish list this season. 

Goodfellows52: The 12 Essays of Christmas, Day 6: The movies

Goodfellows52: The 12 Essays of Christmas, Day 6: The movies: "Christmas is a season for kindling the fire for hospitality in the hall, the genial flame of charity in the heart."  Washington Irving...

The 12 Essays of Christmas, Day 6: The movies

"Christmas is a season for kindling the fire for hospitality in the hall, the genial flame of charity in the heart." 

Washington Irving

AUBURN, Maine - The Christmas movies were pulled from the shelves in our home just after Thanksgiving. No need to wait for the classics to appear on television. You can usually find a copy of a holiday film for about $5 in any department store.

There are only handful of yuletide movies that make my cut. Sure, the Hallmark and Ion cable channels churn out holiday films by the dozen, but most are usually junk, and don't really measure up to timeless classics like "It's a Wonderful Life."

Here's how I have them ranked:

1. "It's a Wonderful Life" is at the top of the list. George Bailey is a quiet hero who goes through life helping the other guy out in the 1946 Frank Capra classic. It explains why George never had a future in congress. He was the Frank Serpico of his day and couldn't be bought by a greedy old bastard by the name of Henry F. Potter, "the richest and meanest man in Bedford Falls." I want to put the SOB in a full nelson every time I watch the movie

Potter was a son of bitch, but Bailey understood the greater good was more important than lining his wallet with money.

Bailey holds his town together, but when his life falls apart financially, he decides to commit suicide. But before he makes the leap into eternity, Clarence, the lovable angel wannabe, intervenes and persuades George to reconsider by reminding him of all the good he has done for the community.

The story is based on the "The Greatest Gift," a short story written by Philip Van Doren Stern in 1939 and published in 1945.

If your eyes do not well up with tears at the end of the movie, you have no soul.

2. "A Child's Tale of Christmas in Wales." If you have never seen this classic, then you live in a cave.

I showed this beautiful movie to a group of high school students. When my son was born, I ordered the movie from a book store. He was two when he first saw it, and now at 16 years old, he watches it with me every Christmas season.

It is a heart-warming tale of a grandfather regaling his excited grandson about his past Christmases as a boy in Wales on Christmas Eve.

It is gem, and the grandfathers' recollections reveal just what a talented writer Welsh writer Dylan Thomas really was.

3. "Miracle on 34th Street." Please purchase the 1947 black-and-white version starring Edmund Gwenn, Maureen O'Hara, and a young Natalie Wood.

You will start believing in Santa Claus again when Gwenn and attorney Fred Gailey make their case in court to convince the judge that Gwenn is the original Kris Kringle.

After two hours, you will be rooting for Kringle like you would for Patriots quarterback Tom Brady.

4. "A Christmas Story." Watching Ralphie go to any extreme to sway his parents to give him a Red Ryder B.B. gun for Christmas is delightful experience.

The film is partially based on Jean Shepherd's book, "In God We Trust: All Others Pay Cash." The book was a collection of short stories written for "Playboy."

The writing is witty and crisp, and the humor and plot is excellent.

And Ralphie almost shoots his eye out.

5. "A Christmas Carol." There are a number of film versions of Charles Dickens' masterpiece.

I prefer these two: The 1984 version starring George C. Scott and the 1951 film named "Scrooge," starring the British actor Alastair Sim.

My father loved the 1938 version starring Gene and Kathleen Lockhart.

Dickens' short story stands the test of time, with his assault on greed and disdain for class warfare.

6. "Home Alone." Why a movie about a cute kid who takes on the two stooges after being left alone to fend for himself on Christmas?

There is one great scene that makes the entire movie a classic. Macaulay Culkin is sitting in a church when he is confronted by a neighbor, Marley, played by character actor Robert Blossom, whose reputation has been tarnished by damaging rumors.

A round of a dialogue between the Culkin and Blossom is heart wrenching and profound. Their interaction is worth sitting through the antics of Joe Pesci and Daniel Stern as they bumble their way during a home robbery.

7. "The Homecoming: A Christmas Story." If you are really seeking the true meaning of the Yuletide, then turn to "The Waltons" for the answer. This 1971 television production is a masterpiece, and anybody who lived through The Depression would appreciate the storyline. My mother was a survivor of the Depression and she loved this opening episode of the Waltons. We watched it every season until the networks stopped showing it.

Patricia Neal does a fine job of Olivia Walton, who waits for her husband to come home after a 50-mile trek back to Waltons' Mountain in Virginia.

I am sure there are other holiday movies out there, but I haven't found recent Christmas movies to top these classics.

That's why these seven holiday movies remain masterpieces.

Goodfellows52: The 12 Essays of Christmas, Day 5: The decorations...

Goodfellows52: The 12 Essays of Christmas, Day 5: The decorations...: "Christmas is not as much about opening our presents as opening our hearts." Janice Maeditere ...

The 12 Essays of Christmas, Day 5: The decorations

• • "Christmas is not as much about opening our presents as opening our hearts."
• • Janice Maeditere

AUBURN, Maine - We drag out nearly a dozen boxes  from our damp-and dark cellar every December.

We lug the boxes upstairs and begin sorting through bulbs and home-made decorations, each with its own precious history.

The tree has been stationed in the corner of the living room and its bare branches will soon be covered with cherished decorations and tinsel wraps.

Each bulb or ornament marks the passing of time and has its own story to tell. Decorating the tree is like taking a trip down memory lane each yuletide.

We remember Aunt Eddie's homemade angel ornament or my mother's funny gift of a Dunkin Donuts decoration. We go through all the ornaments as try to remember where they all came from.

There are so many ornaments the we have acquired over the last few decades. My wife, who is a full-time ed tech at a junior high, has received many ornaments from students and fellow teachers. There are decorations that my son handmade in elementary school and unique ornaments from her mother.

For instance, there is Anthony's green-painted ornament with a picture of him pasted on the front.

It is priceless.

"Our First Christmas Together" is always a sentimental favorite. 

We have so many ornaments that they can't fit on a 6-foot Christmas tree. So we bought a small fake tree at a yard sale last year to accommodate our decorations.

No ornament will be left in behind. That is our motto.

Some ornaments break and are reluctantly disposed of in the trash. It is like tossing away a memory.

It hurts.

And there are the dazzling ornaments that nobody knows where they came from. But we enjoy the mystery and still place them upon our tree - no questions asked.

Just when we are about to place a moratorium on purchasing another ornament to add to our vast collection, there is always one decoration that we can't with live without.

Anthony couldn't resist purchasing a glass-bulb ornament with "The Alamo" nestled inside this unique decoration.

Thinking about "The Alamo" made me feel warm and fuzzy all over.

But what is wrong with adding a new memory to our tree each year?