Christmas Memories

Annissa Anderson

Annissa Anderson, who primarily writes about food and nutrition for The Bulletin’s Special Projects department, fondly remembers Christmas during her late teens, when her family lived in Costa Rica. In place of the traditional clam chowder of their Northwest roots, her family adopted the Central American practice of eating homemade tamales — filled with pork, raisins and green olives — before attending midnight mass on Christmas Eve.

John Cal

I’ve never liked celebrating Christmas, and have always been a bit of a Scrooge about the whole holiday. I don’t like the decorations. I don’t like the music. Yeah, I’m totally that guy.

But one year, a bunch of friends and I were all going to be together, away from our families and spending a friends’ Christmas together. Though I was looking forward to spending some time with my friends, I was not looking forward to the holiday, that is until my friend Sean suggested that instead of celebrating Christmas, we have a birthday party for Jesus.

We made a mix of Jewish and Middle Eastern food. I roasted a leg of lamb with Moroccan spices, and we made flat bread together. There were almond and date cakes. No red or green or gold.

We even sang the birthday song: “Happy Birthday, dear Jesus. Happy Birthday to you.”

Damian Fagan

On Christmas Day, freelance writer Damian Fagan and his family seek out an ice skating pond or take to nordic ski trails at local sno-parks in the morning. Since the gift of family enjoying the outdoors is the best holiday present, the afternoons are dedicated to feasting and phoning family. Though Fagan likes to decorate a tree on Christmas Eve, he often leaves strings of Christmas lights up year-round.

Laura Kessinger

Dense and moist, the cinnamon-swirled coffee cake my grandparents brought each year on Christmas Day was never lacking in brown-sugared crumbles. We would start in on it immediately as they made trip after trip to the car to bring in gifts. My grandpa Rex’s wrapping trick is one I still use today: a giant box with a smaller box inside with a smaller box inside of that and so on until you get to the final tiny box containing cash or a gift certificate. Anticipation and suspense are great gifts at any age.

Tara LaVelle

Growing up, my mom made Christmas magical. Rarely were our gifts wrapped in commercial paper covered with cartoon characters and snowmen. Instead, she would wrap the “boring” gifts (board games and socks) in white tissue paper and arrange the rest like a department store window. If there were dolls, they would be out of their boxes and sitting in little chairs enjoying biscuits and tea.

She would tell us that sometime during the night on Christmas Eve, all the animals knelt down in honor of the newborn King. My sister and I tried many times to sneak up on our horses in the cold moonlight hoping to see this “miracle.” We never did catch them kneeling (I think we were always too noisy), but to this day I still believe it happens.

My mom is gone now, and I miss the quirky, perfect gifts she would produce. As my own children were growing up, I kept my mom’s tradition of creating a toy store window display under the tree. Sure, there are also gifts to unwrap to add to the anticipation, but there’s nothing quite like coming upon a scene like that under the soft glow of Christmas lights.

Gregg Morris

Growing up outside the Motor City, otherwise known as Detroit, Mich., it seems only fitting that Christmastime included a midwestern states driving tour. Four distinctive stops, beginning mid-December and ending Christmas Day, marked the season like an advent calendar. As children, my brother and I obviously focused on the receiving end of gifts, usually numbering somewhere between less than we wanted and more than we deserved. The tour began with a visit to Mema and Papa’s (grandparents) house, complete with a fake tree old enough to recite decades-worth of the same story.

Next came Christmas at home, with a rotating date set by convenience rather than tradition. But, the loot was bountiful, as illustrated by the overstuffed car prepared for departure.

The drive down Interstate 75 toward Cincinnati was highlighted by Wapakoneta’s Neil Armstrong Air and Space Museum and lunch at one of the numerous Bob Evans restaurants lining the route. The last two celebrations, at my other grandma’s house and my aunt and uncle’s house, were filled with cousins and family photos. Needless to say, we completely missed the point of the holiday as we complained about tight-fitting sweaters, uncomfortable family small talk, and not getting the latest remote-controlled device.

Of course, I now hate to travel during the holidays, prefer to stay at home with the family, and always give books and music as gifts.

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!