Ho! Ho! Ho!

While we were growing up, Christmas was an awkward holiday for my sister and I . Back in the 1960s we were somewhat of an anomaly as children being raised by a single mother. Divorce rates were still relatively low, and in fact, we were the only children of a "broken" home in our neat and tidy suburban neighborhood. Neatness was something that still counted.

Our mother was a full time registered nurse, and back in those days there were no benefits to single motherhood. You worked your assigned holiday without complaint, or maybe it was just that my otherwise very proper divorcee Mom didn't really want to draw attention to her "situation". Inevitably,my sister Maureen and I ,would spend one year with my mother and her family and then on the odd year be shipped off to neighbors or friends - and we didnt much like those odd years very much. We didn't like them a single bit.

As we got older, we were able to "fend for ourselves" on holidays. As long as we got to Christmas Eve mass and "hit the rail" for communion, we were left to our own devices on Christmas Day.. We loved the freedom of it all. We loved the lack of supervision and especially not having to be merry. We were happy little lazy logs and we thought we had " it made". We didn't much think about the other children we knew or other holidays in other homes. We had our cozy den, our afghan throws, no parents, no rules, unlimited cartoons and of course an insanely poor cookie diet. We thought we were truly blessed. We thought our world was the center of the universe.

Christmas Day then, was often spent, in the den of our small house where we ,both pajama clad, would consume a package of Chips Ahoy cookies (that were much larger and more cookie filled than they are today) and watch tv. Maureen would splay on the couch all day while I claimed the recliner. We would throw cookies at each other when it was time to change the channel. There were no remotes in the '60s and often the channel needed changing. That was just about it for us. Comfy, laughing and eating forbidden foods.

Occasionally, one of us would wander into the living room and shake a package and wonder what it might be. That didn't last very long and soon we would be back in squadron position in the den determining who held the cookies bag and whose turn it was to change the channel.

We were not industrious children but no one had ever accused us of being stupid. We knew exactly what time Mom's car would pull into the driveway and how long before to toss the turkey into the oven, change ouf of the pajamas, tidy up the den and roll up the window shades to be "Christmas ready" by the time we needed

Now, given this upbringing you can imagine that neither of us were possessed of one single ounce of sentimentality. By the time we were adults we were pretty hardened to the whole holiday pretense. We did, however, try to convince others that we were as Christmasy as the season is long and genuinely so.

When I got married and brought my unsuspecting husband into our family, my sister took it upon herself to portray our family as a "traditional" family of...........well, holiday respecting, red and green wearing, sugar plum dancing, goose roasting people.

On my then husband Bob's first Christmas at Maureen's, she roasted a goose. She knew he had grown up with Roast Goose and not Chips Ahoy, so she went out and got the best goose she could find and tossed it in the oven. At some point it occurred to her that the goose should be stuffed, but that was roughly 20 minutes before we arrived. She took a stalk of celery, poised it perfectly in the correct cavity and considered her job well done.

I watched her proudly show him the beautiful goose roasting in the oven with the sad and wilted celery stalk dying in the middle of the bird, moments after our arrival. Maureen was delirious with glee. Bob cast me a look of bewilderment and I shrugged. I later whispered to him that I didn't think she knew how to stuff a goose but she was trying and that was the most important thing. Maureen pulled me aside a little later and lamented that she had found a Wild Rice Recipe to stuff the goose, but actually I should have called her about the stuffing weeks before and given her the heads up on this. She stared through the oven door at the celery stalk developing more compassion for the little lorn vegetable than was necessary.

As cocktails and hors d'oeuvres were served, and as Bob and I sat before a crackling fire in my sister's living room,she wove this incredible story about a family she knew, living nearby, in need of a Santa Claus.

Maureen said that she had close friends who, every year, found a "stranger" to dress up in costume to portray Santa. It was important,she emphasized, that the family tradition continue, even though the children were now adults and no longer "believed". Every year a new "stranger" was found to do the acting job and this year well, this year she asked in her best Zuzu's petals voice if Bob might agree to do this act for tthis fine family on this wonderful Christmas Eve.

I don't know if it was the cocktail, the crackling fire or the incredible view from the front window but Bob agreed and I decided that was the perfect moment to visit Mom in the apartment next door.

I returned to hear my new husband bellowing "HO, HO, HO, Merry Christmas!" Maureen was having none of this and no matter how well Bob bellowed, Maureen corrected.

"No Bob, thats Ho Ho Ho, Merry Christmas"!

Bob would repeat again and Maureen would correct again.

There was no way to signal to him that his bellowing was just fine but that Maureen was going to make him Ho Ho Ho for as long as she desired.

She was busy applying blush to his "rosy cheeks" while she tutored. He was sweaty and miserable, stuffed with pillows. and clad in a red felt suit. Plastic spats sat nearby as well as a white curly wig and beard that looked massively uncomfortable.

The torture went on for at least another 20 minutes.

My mother buzzed into my sisters house through the hallway that connected their respective homes, in her electric wheel chair. She rolled her eyes and motioned for me to sneak her a forbidden cigarette she would enjoy while Santa, Santa's wife, his tutor and driver were on their way. She made a relevant comment like, "OK, while you kids go off and do your good deed, I will stay and watch this goose."

Mom peered through the oven door window and adjusted her glasses before mouthing back at me
"What in Hell is that thing in the Goose?"

I did not respond. I figured she would open the oven door and see that tragic little stalk as soon as we left the house.

It was impossible for me, as the new bride, to decide if my sisters "test" of her new brother in law was succeeding or my new husbands devotion to me was allowing him to tolerate the nonsense. In other words I had no clue who was winning or even ahead in the
Santa Initiation War.

Soon it was time to pile into the car. Santa was fully made up, tutored, mentored and in receipt of a huge sack of Christmas wrapped gifts. Maureen and Bob piled into the back seat, while Lorie, (Maureen's long time best friend, business partner, and housemate) and I sat in the front. I can't recall if the year was 87or 88, but I do know it was frigidly cold on the North Canton side of Avon Mountain that night and we were all shivering and numbed.

We drove a few miles, all the while Maureen was instructing, correcting, coaching and reassuring. As we approached the designated house, we assessed the situation and slowly drove by before doing a round the block loop.

As we made our new turn down the block, Bob had the car door opened and chirped, "Okay, I can do this, knock on the front door, give out the gifts and we are done!"

"No, No!" shrieked Maureen, "No, you have to go down the chimney".

We all eyed the chimney. "Santa" cast me a look of sheer terror. I was dumbstruck by the suggestion, but yes, it did appear that the thoughtful family had indeed poised a ladder just next to the brick chimney.

Clearly we were in this thing way over our heads.

"I never agreed to this stunt" I thought. and I tried ever so hard to squeak out something like "Oh No, not the chimney! You can't be serious?" "He cant climb down, he will get hurt!" but it just never came out that way. I suppose I was just laughing so incredibly hard that I was not able to form the words.

Maureen was ready for this hindrance to her well planned holiday deed and she calmly remarked.

"Well now Bob, they did put the fire out, didn't they?"

The car door slammed shut and Santa was on his way.

We drove up the block several yards, parked the car and ran back to the house, scrambling low beside the garden hedge to view the visit.

Bob took a firm grasp of the front door knocker and bellowed his "HO HO HO Merry Christmas!" My sister Maureen cackled with delight, whispering to me "Oh wow, he is just the best Santa".

Bob performed well. Passing out the gifts and giving a wink or a chuckle whenever it was needed he astounded all of us with his convincing performance. The cue for him to leave was the family patriarch's invitation for Santa to have, perhaps, a little drink?

That is Santa's cue to say "Oh well now I so wish I could stay and raise a glass of good cheer, but it is Christmas Eve, and I really must be on my way".

My sister was thrilled with her new brother in law's performance to the extent that her cartwheeling and cheer leading,on the front lawn, was given pause when her recently minted Santa, defied the rules, and responded.

"Why Thank You kind sir, it is a long night and I would appreciate a Vodka and Tonic before I embark on my global mission".

Clearly unprepared for this abberation the parents swung into action and prepared the vodka and tonic. Bob, still fully clad in Santa gear and bellowing his Ho Ho Ho script, sipped the drink slowly, while winking and and laughing in the direction of the front window at his wilting sister in law.

She never asked him again to do anything so foolish and he never reminded her of that night.

I am grateful this Christmas, and every Christmas, for my wild sister with her unusual sense of humor and my generous ex husband, Bob. May all your Christmases be filled with love, laughter and light.
HO HO HO MERRY CHRISTMAS!!