Page 26 - voices-2022-12
P. 26
GLEANINGS FROM THE GROVE
MEMORIES OF CHRISTMAS PAST
Paul C. Fanning, DTM
The trees are set up in the living room, St. with my name on it. I carefully reach under the
Nicholas and friend guarding one and the other branches and pull the box towards me. What was
by Theodore E. Bear and his buddy Frosty. The wrong with giving it a little shake. . .or two? No
ornaments glisten, the candy canes beckon one noise, silent like the night, and then it hit me. I
to come and sample them, and the greens (fake) could most carefully begin to un-wrap it and see
look real in the semi-darkness. On the medium if I could determine what it was. It seemed like
sized table covered in white with flecks of silver, hours of cautiously pulling the tape off enough to
and the cotton pretending to be snow, a small begin to see a corner of the gift emerge. It was a
forest of trees with an old wooden stable is filled wild west fort, hopefully one like Corporal Rusty
with animals and people of Provence awaiting and Rin-Tin-Tin resided in. Back went the tape,
the coming foretold to them by a dog and an package swiftly pushed back under the tree and
idiot! (Remember Ravi from an article about the ever-silent retreat to the bedroom for me to
Christmas past?) I can sit in my chair, and lean dream about what I
back, thinking. . .remembering. . .and gosh, the would be doing with
aria “Memories” from “Cats” by Andrew Lloyd that toy tomorrow on
Webber is running through my head. The most Christmas Day!
wonderful time of the year, right? Except the I am up early—
“Memories” version I am hearing is from “School after all it is Christmas.
of Rock” being sung by the girl who cannot sing Out I go from the
or carry a tune, but screeches it out much to the bedroom back to the
horror and amazement of the rest of the school. living room, but faster
Yes, you see, not all memories are so precious, and more noisily
but they are at least amusing! than the night before.
Take for example one from Pittsburg, There before me were
Pennsylvania, circa 1960. It is Christmas Eve. my Grandparents and
I am at my grandparents’ house, supposed to my Parents, drinking
be snug and asleep in bed, but I managed to tea or coffee. I greet
sneak out to the living room and peek under the them with a “Merry
Christmas Tree. Ah, yes—presents! Gifts well Christmas” and
wrapped and taped with ribbons, etc. I see one loudly proclaim a
26 ONE COMMUNITY