More Walton moments

You know, I just figured out that I'm not the brightest bulb in the chandelier. Back in those days when we were going to bed early on Christmas eve, it just occurred to me that when I was younger I always thought that Christmas fell on Sunday and Christmas eve was Saturday. It never even crossed my mind that Christmas would be on any other day! I'm actually a bit dim.

Anyways, There we were all dressed up in our holiday best sitting at the dining room table Aunts, Uncles, Cousins, Grand parents surrounding two tables placed end to end filled with food. You've seen this situation. Pass the olives, while dishing them out their space has been taken up by the mashed potatoes. So you're stuck trying to figure out where the mash potatoes came from before somebody fills in the mash potato space with cranberries. Why its a wonder us dim people didn't starve to death trying to keep up with the ever changing table.

And we ate. And ate and ate. And just about the time we thought we had eaten enough, Grandmother would sat "eat, there is plenty" So we ate more. Finally, as if some magcal moment had arrived we were excused from eating. Never could figure out what the trigger mechanism ( see I can type fancy stuff when I want ) was, but even though the table was still buried in food, someone would release all us kids to go off and play. The adult males would migrate out to the living room where Uncle Ray would whip up some Manhattans, or whatever the drink was with cherries. Sit back, and regale each other with stories of event happenings since the last big family get together. Adult women gathered in the kitchen figuring out where all the food would go. The turkey/ham/roast beast usually ended out on the back porch. Hey, its winter in Chicago the back porch was plenty cold. And besides, in a very short time ( at least to me ) it was going to be time to eat again!

Than came the traditional Christmas play put on in the basement by all the children. I can't remember who would organize this insanity but it happened every year. Well planned and put together, well at the time it seemed that way. we all played out our parts to the best of our given abilities. The youngest always playing the role of baby Jesus.

But one of my warmest memories of the time has nothing to do with the eating, drinking, plays, or general merry making. No, its walking with my Grandfather in the cold Chicago winter night as he went out to stoke the coals in the other buildings of the neighborhood while all the other families celebrated Christmas in their warm homes.

Good night John boy.................