Under the Tree

Christmas began when my grandparents arrived.  Whether it was Indiana, New Jersey or California....all states in which I grew up as a kid.....and whether I was five or fifteen.....the arrival of Elmer and Loretta marked the real beginning of Christmas.

            It wasn't the presents they brought with them.  Grandma and Grandpa had lived a modest life; my grandfather selling hardware in New York City.  They lived in a rented apartment across the river in Northern New Jersey.  They weren't poor.  But it wasn't the things they brought with them that got us excited.

            My Grandmother Loretta was a reserved woman, quite proper.  When my brother Paul and I would get into a fight yelling "shut up" at each other, she would correct our manners saying "...don't say 'shut up' say 'be quiet'"    She was not a 'sit in the lap and cuddle' kind of grandmother.   Paul and I would take turns opening and dipping a tea bag into her cup of tea.   That was how we shared affection for Grandma Loretta.

            My Grandfather Elmer was the boisterous, extraverted energy of the family at the holidays.   He was hearing impaired and had one false eye due to injuries from World War II.   He was full of jokes and stories about his life.   He was the kind of person that could sit down at a bus stop full of strangers and leave five minutes later with a friend (kind of like my beloved Bonnie!).   Grandpa would play games, check out our toys and really pay attention to us kids.  

            What I remember most about their holiday stays with us was the laughter.   My Mom and Dad loved them dearly and so enjoyed their company.  Meal time was the sharing of good and special foods and laughter, lots of laughter.

            As I look back I can’t remember many of the presents I received as a child over the years but I will never forget my grandparents at Christmas time.

            It’s not what’s under the tree that makes Christmas morning. 

It’s the love shared around it that makes all the difference.