I love fog. I love the look of it, the feel of it on my face, the smell of it and the taste as I breathe it in. Some people think fog is scary - since everything is shrouded you can't see what's coming. Stephen King even wrote a horror story about it called "The Mist". But for me, fog covers up all the blemishes, all the ugliness. I don't need fog to know it's a scary world out there and things will jump out of nowhere and derail me even in the light of day. Fog covers me like a blanket but still lets me see the light...Christmas lights. Fog always reminds me of Nana.
Nana loved Christmas. It was hands down her favorite time of year. She was born and raised a Mormon, but converted to Catholicism so she could marry my grandfather. Having come late to the party, maybe she felt like she had to catch up, but she was the best Catholic I'd ever met, even to this day. She loved all the ceremony, rituals and symbolism of the church. And what is Christmas if not all ceremony, rituals and symbolism?
Nana was like a little girl at Christmas. She'd bake all kinds of cookies - bourbon balls, pecan tassies, shortbread cookies, M&M cookies. When I was very young she'd let me decorate the M&M cookies. As we got older, she'd let us sneak some of the bourbon balls. And when I was in college, she'd send me coffee tins full of her cookies for me and my roommates. Back when the mail was decidedly slower, the bourbon balls had enough time to marinate that when I opened the coffee tin, I'd get drunk just on the fumes! She'd have Christmas music playing from her records all day (from the likes of Perry Como and Andy Williams back then). She didn't have a big house, but she would have every corner of it decorated. She'd clap her hands in glee when it was all done and want to celebrate with eggnog served up in Santa Claus mugs! And she and Papa would dance to Christmas music in the den in their stocking feet with a big smile on her face.
My memories of Christmas were not always good ones. Some were just sad - like spending Christmas in the hospital when I was young and still believed in Santa. How could he possibly know where I was amongst all those beds? And my family didn't come until later in the day after the celebrations were all over.
Nana and Papa saved the day one Christmas I spent in the hospital. Santa came into my room on Christmas morning and explained that he left all my presents with Nana and Papa for safe keeping. Right after he left, Nana and Papa came in my room with presents. Nana even showed me the note that Santa left on her hearth. I didn't realize until I was in college that Santa was my uncle Jim (who was an actor). So instead of going over to our house first thing on Christmas morning like usual, Nana, Papa and Jim all came to see me. It wasn't a perfect Christmas by any means, but under the circumstances it was as good as it gets.
Some memories were just rip your heart out bloody awful - like the time I was 17 years old. Two days before Christmas my mother, who had not long been home from the mental hospital (again) told me that I was the one driving her crazy. I told her she was already there (in hindsight I realize that being 17 was probably my only excuse for that). She promptly walked down the street and attempted suicide in front of my teacher's house. The police called and I went down to the hospital with my little sister. I remember the nurse standing next to me (well away from my mother) and telling me to take my mother home as I watched my mother screaming obscenities at me while being physically restrained by not one but two police officers. Nana could not save the day then. Not even Santa could.
Christmas for Nana was all about Peace and Joy, and Love and Hope. Yes, it also was about Jesus, Mary and the manger and I happily went to church with her because it made her so happy. But mostly for Nana it was about being a better person and the hope that everyone someday could be as well. And it was about showing that she knew you. She used to sit by her piano in her house on Padilla Street, and play me the song "Jolly Old St Nicholas". She'd change up some of the words, making it "fit" me:
"Jolly Old St Nicholas, turn your head this way
Don't you tell a single soul, what I'm going to say
Christmas Eve is coming soon, now you dear old man
Whisper what you'll bring to me, tell me if you can
When the clock is striking twelve
When I'm fast asleep
Down the chimney broad and black
With your pack you'll creep
All the stockings you will find
Hanging in a row
Mine will be the shortest one
You'll be sure to know
Markie wants a pair of skates
Cindy wants a dolly
Tina wants a chemistry set
She thinks dolls are folly
As for me, what I'd like best
I really do not know
I think the wisest thing to do
Is leave the choice to you"
Through the years, Christmas has taken on vastly different meanings for me. When I was very young, it certainly was about presents and Santa. In high school when I finally committed to undergo confirmation in the Catholic church, it was about Jesus and Mary. And when I had my own kids, it was all about creating memories with them and going to church as a family. But then as my life and beliefs changed, and I became a Buddhist I found myself unsure how to feel around the holidays. How do I celebrate Christmas?
I have finally come to a place in my life, where Christmas for me is all about the memories. I choose to let the good memories overshadow the bad. I choose to remember Nana as I decorate my tree, listen to Christmas music, try to re-create her bourbon balls. I talk with her on my walk to work pointing out all the holiday decorations downtown because I know she'd love them. And I picture Nana dancing in Papa's arms as I dance around the living room with my beloved in our stocking feet.
Nana's love shrouded me like a blanket of fog. It made me feel safe, it blotted out the bad but still let the light shine through. I haven't yet made it through the season without tears for what I've lost in her. But I'll always be grateful to carry the best of my grandmother around with me every day of the year. And isn't that really what Christmas is all about anyway?
"Christmas time is here
Families drawing near
Oh, that we could always see
Such spirit through the year"
