Not-So-Perfect Christmas Memories

As a mom, I want Christmas to be perfect. I put a lot of pressure on myself to get everything done and to do it well.

But, as a kid, I don't think I ever expected Christmas to be perfect. I just loved this time of year when everyone in my family stopped being so busy with their ordinary tasks and just enjoyed spending time together.

Here are a few random and precious memories of my Christmases past:

1) My mom, her sister Roberta, and my grandma "Honey" telling stories at the kitchen table. The more they talked, the harder they laughed. I remember my Aunt Bert with tears streaming down her face trying to make them stop talking so she could get her breath and stop cracking up.

2) One year my dad had the flu. We also had a house full of relatives. I remember my aunt and mom bundling my dad up and propping him with pillows next to the tree. Feverish and flushed, my dad was not his usual self - but my aunt kept teasing him - and we all loved him back to health.

3) My Grandma Storms gave the worst Christmas gifts ever. She was known to wrap up "used" gifts. One year I received a pair of men's overalls with the name "Jeff" written in black sharpie on the reverse side of the bib. She said I could wear them when I went camping. Our family would compete to see who could come up with the most creative "thank yous" for those gifts.

4) Every Christmas at Grandma Storms would feature take-away bingo and molasses cookies. My Uncle Ken would always try to win the not-so-cleverly wrapped up onion that my grandma put in as one of the prizes.

5) When I was very young, Christmas at my grandma and grandpa's (Honey and Papa's) would always include a Christmas pageant. I spent many hours practicing the drama with my older cousins and wearing bath towels on our heads as costumes.

6) In high school, I still hadn't lost my enthusiasm for Christmas morning. One year, I woke Julie (age 8) and Tim (age 13) up at 3 am to open our stockings and see our Santa gifts. My dad came down to ask, "What in the world was I thinking?" and sent us back to bed.

My dad playing Christmas carols on the piano. My mom's amazing marinated olive salad and Christmas roast. The Ben Franklin stove with a log burning and Johnny Cash's family Christmas album playing in the background.

These are Christmas memories I will always treasure. Not perfect to anyone but me.

Comments

ben said…

These were great, Jamie, thanks for sharing and a very merry Christmas and new year to you and your family! Ben

December 26, 2011 at 4:13 PM

Jamie Janosz said…

Thanks, Ben. Merry Christmas to you and yours as well!

December 26, 2011 at 4:29 PM

Mary McLeod Bethune: She Has Given Her Best

I first heard about Mary McLeod Bethune when I was a student at Moody Bible Institute. She was an early graduate of my college - and an African American woman. I knew she had gone on to become one of the greatest women in our country. She was so well known that she earned the status of being featured on our postage stamps. But I didn't really know much about her. As I researched Mary McLeod Bethune for my book, When Others Shuddered: Eight Women Who Refused to Give Up . I learned a bit more about her remarkable life: She was the 15th of 17 children, born to former slaves. From an early age, she hungered for education. She graduated from Moody Bible Institute with a desire for missionary service to Africa - an opportunity she was denied because of her race. Undeterred, she started a school for African American girls in Daytona Beach, Florida, that went on to become Bethune Cookman University. She was asked to work with Franklin D. Roosevelt and led many African Am

Pacific Garden Mission: A Bed, A Meal and the Bright Light of Hope

In 1877, a woman named Sarah Dunn Clarke and her newly-wedded husband George started a rescue mission on Chicago’s south side. They were wealthy, but their hearts were broken by the men and women who struggled to survive on the city’s streets. The Pacific Garden Mission is the 2 nd oldest operating rescue mission in the United States. Now located on 14 th St and Canal – just south of Chicago’s loop – they offer shelter to as many as a thousand men and women on any given night. As part of my book research to understand how the work of Sarah Clarke continues today, I visited the mission with my friend Dawn Pulgine. Entering through the side, we felt a bit out of our element. Men, black and white, old and young, clustered near the doorway. Some carried bags of personal belongings. Others were working the desk and security. It was mid-day at the Mission. We were given a tour by one of the “program men” – residents who choose to stay and live at the

Your Roots Are Showing

I'm older. I know that. But, honestly, I still feel pretty young. Well, most days at least Today I received a not-requested senior discount at Einstein Bagels. It appeared as a $1.03 credit on my receipt, along with the cheery explanation. And if other people don't tell me I'm older, my body definitely does. I traveled to and from Chicago last week with my daughter and her friend. Being the self sufficient woman I am, I helped the girls boost their luggage into the airline's overhead bin. Later that day, I felt my mistake. My back has not been happy ever since. I've been putting those sticky heat patches on it, Ben Gay rub, ice, heat wraps, you name it. And still when I turn incorrectly . . . ouch. There are other signs too. I wear glasses now . . . all the time. It started with readers, and then progressed to progressives. And I HAVE to color my hair now. Those pesky roots keep reappearing in an ever-shinier shade of silver. I (briefly) considered embr

Jamie Janosz

Search This Blog