Once Thanksgiving comes along, my family is in “Holiday Mode”. It is now time for everyone to pull out the decorations from storage and put up the tree. I would say fight the holiday rush in the stores, but my family usually got the bulk of their shopping done a month or two in advance. Most importantly its time to start planning the holiday festivities. Thinking about how my family celebrated in the past and how we celebrate today, it was my grandparents who built the foundation for our Christmas celebrations.
First, of course, comes Christmas Eve at my Father’s parent’s house in Palisades Park, New Jersey. My father’s family would get together, open gifts, and of course EAT; all typical of a family gathering. There was one part to that night that was my absolute favorite and that was Santa coming around on the fire truck. I remember getting so excited hearing the sirens and screaming, “They’re coming! They’re coming!” My Grandmother, who I call Brama, due to not being able to pronounce Grandma when I was younger, would tell me over and over again that I need to come inside because they were still far away. My poor twin cousins, who were always in my Grandfather, Pepa’s room, which was filled wall to wall with Disney movies and model airplanes, would come running downstairs every time I screamed, also excited that Santa was coming. My Brama would also have to tell them to go upstairs because it’s not time yet. We would go through this several times before Santa actually rolled down First Street.
While the actual event of Santa passing by was quick, I have taken the tradition, implemented by my Brama and Pepa and use it today. They have been out of New Jersey for quite some time now, therefore not being able to relive that childhood custom for years. I happened to marry a firefighter who plays Santa on the fire truck on Christmas Eve (go figure). I have started the tradition again of having family over the house while I have a huge spread of hors d'oeuvres. Even better, Santa and the fireman stop by and come in the house. Having twenty firefighters walkthrough while five fire trucks lined the block was never a tradition when I was growing up, but I was able to create my own customs while still enjoying what I grew up with.
Christmas Day itself was BIG! My entire family went over to my Mother’s parent’s house, also in Palisades Park. As a big Italian family, the meal courses were never-ending. We had antipasto, followed by escarole and meatball soup, followed by pasta, followed by the main course, followed by fruit and nuts, and finally ending with a tremendous selection of desserts. Planning the food was a two month preparation in itself. As we ate, my Papa would always sit at the far end of the dinner table while he observed everyone’s joy around him.
At the end of dessert, when everyone was stuffed, my uncle would make everyone watch a scene
from Monty Python’s “The Meaning of Life” in which an extremely obese, gluttonous man would explode after eating an excessive amount of food in a restaurant. I am completely aware that this is not a typical holiday tradition, but everyone laughed, especially my Papa. We all have a very unique sense of humor to say the least.
After the movie was turned off, my Nana would hand out packets with lyrics to Christmas songs on them and Papa would play Mitch Miller on the stereo while we would all sing along while wearing reindeer antlers that my aunt would bring. One year during a toast, my aunt stood up and joked with my Papa about having another mouth to feed next year because she was pregnant. One wouldn’t think a bunch of Italians could get any louder, but they did once they heard the news and yelled with joy. It was wonderful and something I will never forget.
Just like my Brama and Pepa, my Nana and Papa also moved out of Bergen County, but moved to South Jersey. Today, my mother has taken on the tradition and has everyone over to celebrate Christmas. Although the group has gotten a little smaller over the years, we still do almost everything my grandparents did. While I am not quite ready to host Christmas, perhaps one day I will take over.
I can write so many stories from past holidays. Each and every Christmas was more special than the last, but nevertheless, it were my grandparents who built the foundation to these memorable, amazing holiday celebrations.
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