Christmas rituals

I never had a particularly spectacular family Christmas. We certainly had our rituals ... but they weren't particularly ... fun.


It was a two-day affair. First, we'd all gather at my aunt's on Christmas Eve. There would be many cocktails, cocktail party chatter, and the opening of presents.

On Christmas Day, we'd go back. More idle conversation, followed by dinner, followed by more idle conversation.

You have to understand: my family are generally not talkers. The ones who drink tend to get a bit loud and talky after a while ... but the rest of the time ... strained silence.

Of course there was the year that we passed the phone around to say "Merry Christmas" to my cousin who was in jail ... ah the memories.

I am, as many of you know, an only child. My parents had me late in life. As a result, in my immediate family, there is no one my age. My dad's sister had kids 15 years before me; one of them had kids 7 years after me. I had no one to talk to.

When I was around 15, my cousin (the one with the kids) started realizing I was finally old enough to talk to, and we started developing an actual relationship. We'd go in the back bedroom and just hang out and talk, which thrilled my mother no end (because she knew I was acutely bored) but my aunt actually got angry and would make us come back and join the silence in the front room. Wheee.

As an adult, I started breaking away from the two-day marathon. My time spent at Christmas Eve got shorter and shorter, until I ditched it altogether. And this was my new Christmas Eve ritual:

I'd go over to Michael's house, and we'd trade presents. We'd hang out there maybe 10-15 minutes, because he had three cats at the time, and with my allergies, that was about all I could handle.

From there, we'd go to Sandy's party, which she threw every year. It was a huge event, with enough food for an army. Occasionally, we'd actually know someone besides Sandy who was there. The running joke, every year, was that she'd greet us with: "Hi!!!! Oh, you know who you just missed ... ?"

We'd eat, we'd drink, we'd visit with whoever we DID get to see.

From there, we'd head over to our favorite bar.

We'd pull up barstools, and the bartender would serve us our drinks without our even needing to order. Usually, our pal Marc would be there too - of course that was always a safe bet, there. And the three of us would sit there, looking back on the year, and trading sob stories about just how pathetic we were that we were sitting around that bar on Christmas Eve.

It was always a good night.

And I was always in a much better frame of mind to deal with the family in silence the next day. (Of course, over the years and past a certain age, I learned that wine with the dinner also helped immeasurably). :)

I certainly enjoy all of my traditions in LA ... and of course love holidays with my husband. But those times I get a little nostalgic about New Orleans - Christmas Eve is on the top of my list.