Yule Log Holiday

Christmas was the happiest time of the year for me in the 1960s. Released and relaxed from the usual demands of school and physical therapy – well, there still was physical therapy, but it seemed less arduous because of the festivity. That was it: festivity – merriment, hopefulness, and beginnings. Family friends visiting from out of state, visiting home from college or work, some people newly engaged and very happy.
I liked to sit at the back of the church during the Christmas Eve service to get a good view of the women’s hairstyles. In my pre-teens I was extremely envious of anyone’s long hair – it would be several years before my own grew to almost waist length – and the 1960s was the era of long ponytails – or falls for instant length – intricate buns, and what I later called “The Great Society” tease.
Aside from coveting people’s hairstyles, I loved their news, particularly the news of engagements. Like many seven- to nine-year-olds I had a not-unmixed view of engagement, and the thought that the bride received jewelry, a ceremony, and a trip just stopped short of making me drool; I was aware that it was the actual event of getting married that was important. And the bride and groom went on their trip together and stayed in the same room. Since I was afraid of being alone in the dark that seemed to me to be an ideal arrangement, and I resolved to get married as soon as possible.
Before I could entertain serious thoughts of getting married, there were the get-togethers of the season to be auxiliary hostess to. People dropped in fairly frequently, and there were many genuine exclamations, gifts exchanged, and stories shared. The older members of my family (everyone was an older member), knew that I was discreet, and so told me things that technically were “secrets,” and, sure enough, I kept them. Throughout the year, my sister was a fervent giver of bridal showers, and I enjoyed the arrangements and (of course) kept the secrets.
Christmas added other dimensions to the parties and the general merriment, perhaps not least because people cuddled together to keep warm. Somehow, people coming in from the cold seemed brighter and more awake (doubtless from the blood going to their skin in an attempt to warm them). I especially liked it when my mother was just in from outside. I liked the idea of it for myself, too, but cold meant increased spasticity, so my encounters were better when rationed: there was the warmth of the car, blasts of cold outdoor air, then warmth. I recalled these feelings years later as my mother repeated often, “I love being warm.”
The food at Christmastime was festive as well. Toast and cereal were replaced occasionally by coffeecake and sweet rolls. There were more meals eaten out, and family gatherings usually featured turkey or roast beef with several vegetables, potatoes, stuffing (with turkey), and steamed pudding, a choice of chocolate or suet (“Who would want to eat suet?” I thought to myself, but many did). One Thanksgiving the whole family went to the Rhode Island Country Club for a meal that I still remember for its ambiance and generally amazing deliciousness. Prior to their marriages and middle-aged years, my mother and aunts went with their parents to the Toll House, a truly spiffy restaurant, for Christmas dinner, but that ritual changed with the passing of the years to our having dinner at our grandmother’s or one of two aunts’ houses.
This Currier and Ives portrait didn’t last. School and work began again in the New Year, and the holiday was not usually as idyllic as I have described it (I have left out many contretemps), but the vacation was a welcome, friendly respite at the year’s end. It comprised a place, time, and feeling that I am happy to recall.