“Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn't before! What if Christmas, he thought, doesn't come from a store. What if Christmas...perhaps...means a little bit more!”
REVERE, Mass. — Blame it on the warm weather for my Christmas cheer and indomitable holiday spirit.
A week and half ago, we traveled Revere to celebrate the Yuletide with family and friends. It was the first Christmas I didn’t have to cook. I had become a man of leisure — at least for two days —and could enjoy the holiday without slaving over a hot stove.
You see, I didn't just survive the holidays. I enjoyed them for the first in a long time. Now I embrace the mayhem and the insanity that goes along with Christmas and Thanksgiving. I guess I always enjoyed the madness.
You see, I didn't just survive the holidays. I enjoyed them for the first in a long time. Now I embrace the mayhem and the insanity that goes along with Christmas and Thanksgiving. I guess I always enjoyed the madness.
We left cloudy and cool Maine, and by the time we approached the Massachusetts coast on Christmas Eve, the warm embrace of a shining sun and a warm sea breeze greeted us.
The temperature rose to 70 degrees in the dead of a New England December. There have been warm Christmases in the past, but this was beach weather. It was astounding — and unheard of at this time of year. The warm sun put everybody in a good mood and the thought of
dreaming of a white Christmas would end up being an ordinary nightmare.
Before we checked into our room at the Red Roof Inn in Saugus, Mass., we had lunch with a generous cop friend of mine at the Prince Pizzeria on Route 1. The restaurant features a huge replica of the Leaning Tower of Pisa, only it is spelled pizza. My father took us there years ago, and of course, the fading memories of my parents suddenly became clear as we seated ourselves to feast on fried calamari and chicken wings.
After a small meal and trading tales about the old neighborhood, my friend and I parted company. We checked into our room at the motel before we made the three-mile ride to Revere.
We visited my uncle before we touched down at my sister’s three-story home, where 25 family members and friends waited to devour a 20-course meal complete with shrimp linguini and succulent stuffed mushrooms. The difficult part of my visit with relatives is glancing at our family home, which was sold eight months ago after my father died. It is next to my uncle’s house. When I stood before Al and Louise’s house, a house that once provided shelter to a loving family of six, I wanted to see my dad part the curtains at the picture window and beckon us to come inside to see mom, but my parents are gone.
The curtains were closed, anyway, and the my parents’ home, a loving, a modest home that was built in 1966, was occupied by new owners.
I turned and headed for the car, vowing not to spoil the holiday with my brief bout of melancholy.
I arrived at my sister’s home and was given a hero’s welcome. My mood improved with each hug I received from family members.
We ate, drank and we were merry despite the loss of loved ones, but I swear the warm weather helped us all feel better. We held a Yankee swap on my sister’s deck Christmas Eve. Nobody wore a jacket as a full Christmas moon appeared and lit up the yuletide sky. It was like a late spring day in the Greater Boston area.
A gift from the past
The kitchen table in any Italian home is a meeting place for the family. That was true for our clan as well.
After my parents passed, we divided up everything, including the Christmas decorations last April. When we decorated our tree and hung my parents decorations at my home, we discovered a Christmas ornament that my parents never gave their niece.
We gathered around at my sister’s home and presented our niece with the intended gift from her grandmother. I don’t know why the holiday ornament remained in a box downstairs in my parents’ home for the past 27 years. Perhaps, my mom forgot or she was waiting to give it to her niece at the right moment. The small mystery didn’t matter. The ornament has been delivered 27 years later.
Maybe, that small reminder of my parents was our small Christmas miracle this season. We certainly needed one after losing so many important people in our lives.
Christmas by the beach
Imagine walking the beach on Christmas day in spring-like temperatures with NO snow on the ground!
We checked out early and headed to Revere Beach, where the temperature was a balmy 65 degrees Christmas morning. Runners and bikers dressed in T-shirts and shorts wished us a Merry Christmas as they raced by on the boulevard. We spent over an hour walking on the sand and marveling at the warm temperatures. Winter set up shop by Thanksgiving and last Christmas was bleak and cold.
We checked out early and headed to Revere Beach, where the temperature was a balmy 65 degrees Christmas morning. Runners and bikers dressed in T-shirts and shorts wished us a Merry Christmas as they raced by on the boulevard. We spent over an hour walking on the sand and marveling at the warm temperatures. Winter set up shop by Thanksgiving and last Christmas was bleak and cold.
The walk, the sound of the waves and salt air presented us with Christmas morning that we would never be forgotten.
My mother loved the beach and my parents would buy coffee and sit on the wall during warm summer nights and chilly autumn days.
I felt them both in my heart this holiday. They were right there with us as we briskly walked along the sandy New England beach. My parents gave me life and a lifetime of love, and my sweet memories of them keep me going through each season of our lives.
Perhaps Christmas also serves to remind us of what is truly important in our lives.
Perhaps Christmas also serves to remind us of what is truly important in our lives.
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