The Last Christmas - 30 years later.

 I've spoken of it before.  Christmas eve was the most amazing and magical time of the year for me from basically my first birthday until I was 16. 

I'm sitting here on my last day as a 46 year old...and I find myself remembering all of it and missing my family.  

It was my last full day as a 16 year old.  Grandma had been sick for awhile.  We all knew that the odds were good this would be the last year.  Christmas Eve was an institution for my family.  If I'm being honest...it was my most anticipated day of the the year...and I was born ON Christmas.  I have memories of sitting in classrooms in elementary school and thinking about how excited I was to go to Grandma's on Christmas Eve.  I can't exactly explain why.  I mean I was a lonely kid to be sure.  Nerdy and a bit weird (oh how the years change things lol).  I didn't make a lot of friends.  I usually had one 'go to' friend in each grade...but I was just the kid who got bullied a lot.  I guess in some ways...my family made up for those things.  I belonged there.  For a lot of the years..I was the only boy there...so I got a bit of special treatment.  My cousins Steve and Chuck only came sporadically and Nate had to spend every other year at his Mom's family.  Those years could be tough for me as my girl cousins and sister would pair off and more than once I'd be sitting at the top of the stairs waiting for 'Santa' to arrive while they were off in the three bedrooms.  Still I never minded.  The whole time was magic.  We'd arrive at like noon some years...Mom and Gram would do last minute runs to Gold Circle getting gifts for last minute guest additions, I'd sit next to the mini village ice rink she'd have out on her table.  We couldn't get to the toys we usually played with as they were in the area where presents were, so that was my imagination area and I was forbidden from using the TV as I MIGHT have been responsible for the knob on not one but TWO TV's they had falling off the dial as I spinned it too fast.  

We'd wait there as the rest of the family and guests trickled in.  We'd hug, wish each other merry christmas, help unload cars full of presents for other family members while looking to see if our name was on any.  As more cousins arrived the fun would kick into higher gear.  Snowball fights outside, forts, hanging with Cain (My Grandpa's awesome hunting dog).  

The day would go forward.  There'd be cold cuts and some ziti.  The men would retire to Grandpa's garage which was turned into a makeshift open bar.  Seriously...I've seen smaller bars at irish wakes.  He had every possible liquor I think on that little table to say nothing of the 'kegerator' in the corner.  I of course just used to use the soda fridge next to it.  It was usually stocked full of Fanta and other diet drinks that Grandma could have...but there was also some "little hugs" and I almost always snuck some soda seeing as how at Christmas did keep some 'people pop' on hand...but it tended to disappear quick.  I remember it always seemed like a marker of the time of day when I had to switch from Sprite to Little Hugs.  Had to be careful not to drink too much though.  There was NOTHING worse than if you had to go to the bathroom in the one bathroom and it was full...well unless you had to go to the bathroom while Great Granny Lincoln was trying to go up the stairs.  I swear that woman literally took 3 days to traverse those stairs and if your bladder was full, it was more like 3 months. 

The sun would go down and after we all ate, Grandma would shoo us upstairs.  Santa was coming she'd say and Grandpa would almost immediately mention that he wasn't coming this year...because he got Rudolph last year (and almost always he'd have a clown nose on the deer head that was mounted above the fireplace which I'm sure is why I'm still in therapy 30 years later dealing with trust issues).  

We'd be upstairs while the parents started grabbing the presents from under the stairs and put them under the tree.  Someone would inevitably holler HO HO HO and we'd react of course...and after about 2 or 3 years of being at the top of the stairs Grandma would start singing Jingle Bells and we'd rush downstairs at about 10 times the speed of light.  

I should describe the tree.  The first Christmas Eve I remember...I must have been almost 2.  My sister was still a newborn infant...My cousin Dawn and I had managed to get her out of her basinet (she would swing it to roll Betty and I'd catch her) and I was so proud when I walked into the kitchen and said "Look Grammy; Sissy" and I remember her tone when she said "Billy, you give me that baby right now".  I also still remember the feeling when I saw it.  I don't think they ran  us up the stairs that year...I seem to remember being in my Father's arms as he turned the corner from the breezeway to see the tree.  Back then the presents came to the very bottom.  There were only a few of us then.  I think my sister was the youngest at that point.  I'm not sure if Kathy had been born yet.  But over the next ten years my memory clears and I remember how the tree seemed to get smaller.  In actuality...the presents kept getting higher.  Her last year with us, the tree was about 2/3 covered by presents piled.  At that point we had grown to 17 cousins for 6 couples, some of us had significant others, some of  the extended family and more.  In total I believe there were about 50 of us crammed into 162 Hampton Blvd that year and everyone had something under that tree.

We had 'assigned' seats for the presents.  My family and I were always in the corner nearest the living room door.  When I was a kid this was PRIMO seating as that was usually where one of the most COMFORTABLE chairs I'd ever sat in were.  They were these about 3 foot wide, plush, couch type thing...but instead of a back that was at a 90 degree angle, it was more of a 33 degree angle that would then raise back up to put your knees up.  Almost like if you took a lighting bolt, and turned it 30 degrees to the side.  They were AMAZING and I still miss them (I don't think I'm alone).  Uncle Bill would usually be near the fireplace with Aunt Debi and Uncle Frank taking the back corner.  Aunt Micki and her kids in front of the TV/Organ, Aunt Audrea near the recliner and then Uncle Steve bringing up the stairs.  It rotated of course...but this is kinda how I remember it.  In fact...I still remember one year my second Cousin Renee sat in our corner  My Mom had a minor meltdown (I'm pretty sure he'd had a few) and made her move down.  LOL

The opening of the presents was magical.  It almost always started with the tradition of 'sliding the baby' down the presents.  I'm told this started with me because I guess my first Christmas (day 364 for me of being outside the womb) I was somehow 'lost' in the paper.  To hear my Mom describe it, I apparently disappeared in wrapping paper and they had to stop everything to find me.  Once we finished with the formalities of the baby slide...Grandma would come out wearing her holiday apron and her Santa Hat and we were off.   

There were rules too.  No matter who actually BOUGHT the present (We all tended to buy for everyone...) it was Grandma who'd play 'Santa'.  She'd pick up the present, scream out the name (as the years went on, the decibel level of the living room became roughly equivalent to the sound of some small stadiums) and then the present would be given (or in later years as the room became 'tighter' passed) to the recipient.  We weren't allowed to touch the presents...or give one to someone.  It was Grammie's show and...well...you didn't go against Grammie.  

What was always special to me though...in her later years...and especially in her last year...Gram wouldn't be able to bend over as easily.  She'd have to sit in a chair.  So I started grabbing the presents and moving them to her feet.  I always felt special doing that.  She'd look at me and say "Billy...go over and bring those here.  Don't look at the names and don't give it to anyone.".  After a few years...she wouldn't even need to ask.  It was my special job (mostly cause I think we were closest to the tree really...but there's a part of me deep down that thinks too...it was just something she knew I wanted to do to be there for her...and she let me.).  In fact...her last  year...she was getting weak giving the gifts.  After about an hour she looked at me and said "Billy...can you give some of them out?" and I remember feeling so honored.  So we 'double teamed' em.  She'd announce one and I remembered waiting till she was done...then I'd hand one out.  I even remember towards the end, my cousin Kathy (who's no longer with us...and who I still miss) started reaching under the tree and handed one to her little sister, and Grandma said "Kathy...Billy's got it.  You just wait."  I literally felt about 12 feet tall at that point. 

We'd wait what seemed like years between gifts.  We'd hear our name and she'd hand it to us.  We'd open it and yell out our thank you's to whomever gave it to us.  Mom would take it and put it in a big box we'd brought with us.  We would always ask to 'open' it and play with it...only to hear 'NO...it has parts you'll lose.  You just wait and you'll get another soon." and we'd have to wait the four centuries for another one.  The room would be COVERED in wrapping paper.  Grandma would give a present to everyone.  It took hours I think.  Hours of sitting in a room with these people who came from this one couple.  Opening presents, laughing, cringing sometimes at the 'joke' gifts (like the year my Grandmother gave a year's subscription to Playboy to all of her sons in law.  Speaking as a boy who was just discovering what puberty was...I must remember to thank her when I get to heaven...I mean this was the year Vanna White was in playboy.  Thanks Grammie) and sometimes defusing a fight between siblings or cousins who MAY have missed a nap that day.  It was organized chaos and by organized I mean completely insane and by chaos I mean probably illegal in some countries.  It was raucous, loud and insane.  

And it was TRULY my home.  Where I felt a part of something.  It was my literal favorite day of the year and I pray that when I'm a grandfather (hopefully VERY VERY LONG FROM NOW!!!!) that this is a tradition I will take on.  The "Come over to our house on Christmas Eve...be with your kids on Christmas Day and we'll come to you".  

Eventually we'd have given all the presents.  The living room at Grandma's would be covered in wrapping paper, boxes, some discarded sweaters (it did get hot in there...EVERY YEAR) and almost immediately in the later years...this would trigger the 'paper war'.  Someone would start it...picking up the paper and balling it up...throwing it at a cousin...they'd retaliate...they'd hit someone on accident and it was ON!  It lasted a few minutes before Grandma or another adult would tell us to stop and we'd start bagging the paper.  All the grandkids helped.  We'd put the paper into plastic trash bags, take them out to the garage where Grandpa had the 'stove' all prepped and he'd load the bags in...(probably along with one or two tires, seriously...my Grandfather had an EPA file I do believe...that man burned EVERYTHING in that stove...including legend has it, some of the lesser known and never spoken about Grandchildren that made him mad.).  

Then we'd start surveying the 'haul'.  There was always one or two toys...and some clothes and sometimes what I liked the call the 'weather prediction present'. Basically if we got a snow suit/moon boots or if we got a Sled (usually they were on rotations), we were GUARANTEED to have a green Christmas.  If we got a squirt gun or nerf ball...it was 24" of snow guaranteed.  We'd almost immediately start winding down and because we lived so far away (and my Mom had to make the house ready for people to come over the next day as we always hosted the grandparents for dinner/my birthday party) Dad would inevitably look at my Mom and say 'What do ya say Sally...wanna make the rounds?'.  That was code for 'start saying good bye..I'm gonna take the kids to the car.".  We'd start going around saying our good byes, and carry the box out to the car.  We'd put it in the trunk and Dad would start the car (and notice where Cain had peed on his tire.).  We'd sit in the car while Mom is saying her 'good byes' and I noticed my Dad's rule of three songs.   He'd let three songs play on the radio (or two and commercial break).  Almost like clockwork...by the third song he'd say "Billy...go in there and see what's going on.  Tell your Mom we gotta go." It never dawned on me till later, but I gotta wonder if this was an instance of the Old man being smart.  He knew if he went in and rushed Mom, she'd almost always look at him sideways, probably tell him she's coming, and then take 30 minutes more because my Mom 'hated rewarding bad behavior'.  Instead by sending me back in...he knew she'd probably receive it better as I pretty much was a physical reminder of  the fact that the next day was coming, it was Christmas which meant they would be up a few hours last minute wrapping and 'waiting for Santa' and no doubt be awoken at 3:37 AM by two kids who didn't realize that 'opening on Christmas Morning' wasn't meant to be 'Christmas Morning Grenwich mean time'...to say nothing of the big dinner/cake/birthday party coming later. We had an hour drive home...and the old man was tired.  I applaud the ingenuity.  

From the minute the last tire backed out of the driveway at 162 Hampton...I was eagerly counting the hours till it was Christmas Eve again.  Christmas was always a great day and the fact that it was also my birthday made it doubly so.  Still...I could never have the 'big birthday party on my birthday.'  My parents did a few usually the week after Christmas or a few times tried to pull the surprise birthday which almost never worked (the only successful one was in 2001, when my Mom decided to coopt the Benson Family Reunion as a surprise birthday party for me...in August.  To hear her say it she said "We can never surprise you.  You're too damn suspicious.  We setup a dinner in December and you're immediately asking so this is what we had to do.  I blame you".  She's not wrong.  At least twice I foiled my own birthday surprise.  Once by running a 102 degree fever and another because my cousin told me about it.  Again I had great birthdays...my Mom did everything she could.  She drew the short straw.  A Christmas birthday isn't easy and though I have a reputation for being a bit materialistic...the truth is whenever my parents asked about the idea of a birthday party in June or July as a 'half birthday'...I saw it as a 'gift grab'.  I wanted my birthday because in some ways...when I was a kid it defined me.  I always could say 'my birthday is on Christmas'.  I'm proud of my birthday.  There's a story in this blog of how it gave my Grandpa Benson Christmas again...I'm honored to have it.  Still...my cousins on my Mother's side were the only friends I had for a long time.  They still are people I care about deeply and even though we've grown apart a lot of us, I still miss seeing them.  So Christmas Eve was always a big deal.  

As I sit here staring at the business end of 47, I've come to realize something that most of my life has been about searching for that place to belong.  It started with defining myself by being a part of this 'Short Family'...it became being a part of the Drum Corps (some would say an extension of my family), to the Theatre groups I was in High School and Chorus, to College where I was a part of the golden years of a small college's music program, to post college when I joined another couple shows and did Rocky Horror for five years before finding my faith again and getting involved in ministry.  To my first marriage, Oasis, Worship Team, various jobs and finally to coming out here after my divorce and making a new family here with my beautiful dream girl,  I've always kinda defined myself by the people I was with.  I'm sure there's some sort of psychological reasoning behind it.  Inferiority complex coupled with intense social anxiety and crippling fear of rejection and abandonment I'm sure.  Still I also am acutely self-aware. The fact is...I was searching for something I can never truly have from others.  Through this year I've seen that God has been with me this whole time.  That's where I truly belong and the feeling I get from belonging to anything else was an extension of that.  That doesn't mean that those feelings and the joy I get from working with others is bad.   In fact I spent a great deal of my youth trying to AVOID those entanglements.  It means however that it isn't the group that matters...but the people I love and who love me that matter.  I won't lie.  It's hard to be away from my extended family.  Through a series of circumstances and choices both made by me and others...I don't see them as often as I'd like and when I do there's an awkwardness.  I own that.  However on the other side of it...I have come to put it in perspective.  I could spend the rest of my life trying to make people love me...or I could spend it loving the people I love and investing in the people that already do care about me.  That means that while I may not see people I care about from home, I made a choice to invest in my life here.  I have an amazing wife and that comes with some biblical responsibilities and I'm a Dad and that comes with its own requirements.  I'm doing what I need to do and investing in them because that's what I'm called to do.  However...if you're someone who doesn't speak to me because of some gripe or issue we have...I want you to know that my door is never closed, my arms will always be open and I do miss you.  I'm sorry for whatever I've done and I don't care what it is you've done or said because I'm sure I deserved it.  I pray you have an amazing holiday and my wish this year is maybe someday soon...I see you again.  I'm still Betty Short's grandson and Sally and Bill's son.  If you call...and need me I'll never deny you and I do love you.  

If you're reading this and maybe someone in your life (who isn't me) comes on your brain...I encourage you to reach out.  Time's too short.  This is our 8th Christmas without my Mom and the 29th without Grammie.  Keeping people in our lives is important.  There is almost nothing that anyone can do that should force us to forget where we came from.  I think of those Christmases...and the biggest memory almost is always the people around me.  I couldn't name more than 4 presents I got...but I can recall with vivid clarity every one of those nights and how much fun they were.  

Merry Christmas everyone...and thanks for reading.