My father was the youngest child in a fairly large family. He had five sisters and five brothers. The closest sister age-wise was 12 years older, while the closest brother was also almost 10 year older. Many times my father would tell me that he felt like he had six mothers. There is one advantage to this arrangement. You never go hungry. As my father’s only child and the youngest child of my generation, I was never beyond using that advantage to my benefit.
Since all the siblings lived within 20 miles of where they were born, holidays were family gatherings of monstrous proportions. Since my father was the last of his siblings to marry and start a family, holiday traditions had already been established. Christmas dinners were always served at the home of one particular aunt. New Year’s Dinner was served at the home of another aunt. Thanksgiving dinners and Easter dinners were held at the homes of a third and fourth aunt or uncle. July 4th was a picnic at the home of a fifth.
I remember all the holiday dinners but the Christmas dinners were always my favorite. My aunt’s small house wasn’t large enough to allow all 40-plus family members to eat at one time. Therefore, there were two shifts. As a tradition-bound family, certain aunts and uncles always came to the first sitting, while other aunts and uncles always came to the second sitting. Since my father was the family favorite, we were always at the first sitting. However everyone wanted to see and talk to him, so we would stay for round two. Not being a complainer, I cheerfully went along with this plan.
To spread the work load, every family (in the early 1950’s, translate that as “every wife”) had to bring something. However, these Christmas celebrations were not pot-luck dinners because in my father’s family, there were certain traditions. At the impressionable age of six, this was my introduction to the world of smorgasbords. I still carry the love of this style of a meal to this day.
The same two or three aunts always cooked the turkeys to a perfection. It was great. One aunt always made a corn bread stuffing. Another made a traditional rye and mushroom stuffing loaded with celery and onions. A third aunt always made a sausage and oyster stuffing. The only things that can top those three varieties of stuffing were three different kinds of turkey gravy, from the traditional yellow turkey gravy, to two brown turkey gravies, one laced with giblets, gizzards, and liver, and a second loaded with mushrooms.
To go along with the turkey and stuffing were, of course, the traditional white mashed potatoes with large globs of melting butter sitting in pools on top of the potatoes. Then, there were sweet potatoes served two ways. The first was a sweet, whipped imitation of traditional whipped white potatoes. The second was a casserole that was loaded with melted butter, brown sugar, cinnamon and pecans.
For vegetables, there were always two varieties of coleslaw. The first was a creamy, sweet slaw, while the second was a vinegary, pickle slaw. There was always broccoli and cauliflower. Petite peas were served two ways. The first with was small button mushrooms and the second with small pearl onions in a cream sauce. You can’t have roast turkey without cranberry sauce, both the smooth jellied variety and the whole cranberry sauce.
My father was not only the youngest of his siblings, he was the last one to marry. In addition, my father was almost 20 years older than my mother. As a result, my mother was younger than some of my first cousins. Thus, my aunts let my mother off easy. She only had to bring the dinner rolls, while several of my aunts would bring four or five different kinds of homemade jellies, jams and butters.
Did I mention dessert? Of course there were pumpkin, pecan and apple pies served with real whipping cream or ice cream. What’s a kid to choose? Once in a while, I might have had small pieces of a couple different kinds of pies. However, there was always another dessert that I never refused…homemade, warm rice pudding with a touch of cold milk poured over it.
After the second sitting was completed and everyone had finished eating, there came the task of cleaning up. Even this had its own set of traditions. My uncles “retired” to the living room to talk, while my aunts congregated in the kitchen to talk while cleaning up the dishes and the utensils. The kids were relegated to the dining room after the table had been cleared to talk about what we got for Christmas and to play board games.
When the men were in the living room talking, the room was generally considered off limits to everyone else, especially kids, until the women were finished with the mess in the kitchen. When the women had divvied up the left overs, they would all go into the living room. This was the sign that it was okay for the kids to enter the room also. Everyone would say their goodbyes and leave for their own homes. Why did we do things this way? I am not sure anyone could tell you. That was the way it was done. It was just the tradition of the family.
I’m not sure why no one figured out that the second sitting was the best deal and try to swap around to get it. At the second sitting, you got left overs from the first sitting and the fresh food from the new crowd. You also got to take home leftovers of just about everything. Because this tradition was so strong, if the individual families wanted to do something special for Christmas that left Christmas Night or Christmas Eve.
My mother and father chose Christmas Eve as our special time. We would have our family Christmas meal and then decorate the tree. Our traditional Christmas meal consisted of huge butterfly-slit pork chops stuffed with an apricot, raisin and rye bread stuffing, mashed potatoes, a creamy pork gravy, succotash, and apple sauce.
Did I mention dessert? Dessert was always tapioca pudding with a touch of cream, chocolate chip cookies and Christmas cookies. By the time I was six I had figured out that Santa Claus didn’t come down our chimney. If he did, he would have ended up in our coal furnace in the basement. I remember telling my parents the Christmas Eve when I was in first grade that Santa Claus wasn’t real. He was just the spirit of Christmas. I also mentioned that I had found the presents that they had hid in the attic. After that year we always opened our presents Christmas Eve right after we had finished decorating the tree. That was our Christmas tradition.
Leave a Reply