My Dion and My Carlo,
A Christmas Story from my past. I know... you guys heard it before.
Still... if you let yourself... drift... just a bit, you just might find yourself there with us... with me. Take a moment. Imagine... the house the way it was back then. Grandma... no gray hair, me with young and sparkly eyes... full of what was going to be that night. The chill in the air on Lawton Ave... a day, no school... the day of night's come true... from a windy morning's bright to the Christmas's of Christmas night. The emotions that are so true... I saw it all and once again I bring it to you.
My Christmas Story........
Of all the 62 Christmas's I've lived there's one that stays locked in my memory. May I say how it really happened to me. I give each word from my heart, the day from morning till night as I so vividly recall in... 1954. Christmas Eve.
I woke up knowing that there was no school. I smelled the air in my room as I got out of bed. That same scent of live steam was hissing from the radiator next to the window. This time it wasn't a reminder that my school uniform was hanging on the knob of the door. It was so fresh, that sound of security. I went to the window... 7a.m., dark grey... but it was still Friday and my Christmas Vacation had just begun. I went into the living room. I could see my mother down the hall in the kitchen. The tree lights were already lit and they'll stay lit till everyone goes to bed tonight. We used Mom's old measuring cup to fill the tree stand with water. You could see the lines on it, but not how much. Two cups? It was my job and I loved to crawl under the tree. "After you fill'er up you just roll over and stare straight up through the branches... if I could only climb up there." I'd look down and see me, wave and keep climbing. If I was that small of course.
My cousins lived "down stairs" in our two family house. They came up just in time to check out what I was doing. I didn't hear them come in. "Rock! Where are you?" My mother didn't miss a thing, "He's watering the tree!"
Eddy, Jeff and I spent a lot of time under the tree. We'd imagine how we could hide from each other, from branch to branch, "No cheating!" "I got the rocking horse!" "S-shhhh!" "Nobody talk."
Time went by that day and we went on and on about how we were going to be allowed to stay up late that night to see Santa and who was getting clothes instead of toys.
My mother was busy in the kitchen preparing another once a year holiday tradition... Linguine and Lobster Sauce! She'd always keep an eye out for us and found time to break out the hot chocolate. We even took a nap, in our robes, all in the same bed with two dining room chairs propped up next to it that was supposed to keep us from falling onto the floor. My Mom's idea.
For some reason my father would always have to work late on Christmas Eve. He always missed Santa. Yep! That's right, Santa would come to our house. All my Aunts and Uncles would come to our house to see Santa. There were lots of cousins at my house and they would all come to see Santa. Each year Santa would bring his big red sacks of gifts for everyone. (now check this out)
My Aunt Rose (Eddy's and Jeff's mom) and my Mom would put all our presents in those big red sacks. They were sewn from old sheets and dyed red. Pretty cool idea and as everyone would arrive, more and more sacks would get filled until "Santa's" cargo was ready.
Then came the phone call. Santa Claus was on the telephone. That's right. Each year about an hour before he would arrive he'd call us on the phone and we'd get to talk to him. All of us cousins would line up and get our chance to hear what Santa had to say. Usually I was last, something about being polite but this time Santa made it known when he first got on the phone that he had something important to say to me. I was so excited I just couldn't wait for when it was to be my turn. What could it be? I must be getting something special this year!
Finally I found myself sitting down on that big round chair by the phone. "Hi Santa! It's me, Rocky! How are you?" I couldn't believe my ears. Santa knew everything I got in trouble for that year. He didn't sound angry but I also didn't hear any, "Ho-Ho-Ho's" either. He just went over everything I did and told me how disappointed he was. He said good-bye. I hung up the phone and just stood there thinking, "I've gone and done it now." That was it for me. (it gets worse)
"Lights! Camera! Action!" Of course everyone had their movie cameras rolling. Of course! "All you kids sit on the couch! Santa's on his way! Yay!!!! I made believe the lights were bothering me to hide the tears of humiliation and embarrassment and impending doom. Then I heard the Jingle Bells. He was here and he was coming up the stairs. Now what? I can still hear him, "Merry Christmas! Oh, my aching back!"
I hardly heard anything after that. It was like slow motion laughter and ripping of gift wrap. I sat so trying to smile as all the presents were handed out...sack after, unbelievably RED, sack. There we were, all sitting on the floor in a multi colored sea of wrapping paper. At one point it was so high that I saw my little cousin Debbie come to the surface in her Christmas pajamas to wish me a "Merry Christmas, Wocky!"
I was doomed.
For some reason Santa must have started freaking out because he was babbling something in Italian to my mother! What? "Santa can speak Italian!" Then I thought, "That's how he knew everything about me." It was all to true about Santa and he was pretty upset. "Here it comes!" Looking at all the movie cameras. "Yep, they're getting all this. I was wishing it was last Summer and I was standing in my usual spot in "Right Field" waiting, where it was always nice and quiet.
Actually, Santa was asking my Mom "Where are his things?" She hadn't a clue. Here's what happened as my Mom told me the story. My Aunt "Ro" and my Mom always brought a bunch of empty sacks down the basement and as my other Aunts and Uncles showed up they'd fill them all evenly. Mom brought my gifts in one sack and her gifts and Dads gifts in another down to the basement earlier in the day while we were asleep. That evening as all my Aunts and Uncles showed up they filled the sacks and they forgot to mix my gifts in with everyone else's. To make matters worse, mine was the last sack.
Meanwhile as I was just about to sink beneath the waves when I heard, "For Rocky!" And then they came... one after another. They were being pulled from some magical, bright and beautiful, red, glowing, gift bag from the North! I was all by myself. I could hear my relatives "shushing" each other in the background as I ripped through the gift wrap. Each time, as I would finish with one grand opening, there would be Santa's hand reaching out to me with another.
I noticed something. He was wearing a ring. Santa had a ring on his finger just like my Dads. That was weird. That red ruby and diamond ring. Ok, so they both have the same ring. At that moment I stopped thinking and heard voices calling out "Merry Christmas Rocky!" Through all the tears joy, embarrassment and repentance I hurled myself at Santa. I wasn't doomed! I held on to him and hugged him wanting him to feel how happy I was!
"Hey..." I thought. "He even smells like, Old Spice!" I wiped my eyes and stared right into his.
Underneath that Santa Claus mask I saw his eyes. They were his eyes. I quickly pulled his arms from around me and grabbed his hand. The ring... his eyes... the tears. My Father! "Pop?" For just a moment we were eye to eye and then he said, "Merry Christmas Rock." And that's all he said. He gave me that squinting look of his and put his finger to his lips and shushed me. It was our secret. Now I know why he would always work late on Christmas Eve. My Pop was Santa Claus.
I don't remember what toys I got that year. They're overshadowed in long term memory loss by the image of those two guys as they walked out the living room door. "Santa" disappeared from me into the night. I was sure he left in a sleigh and sure enough my father came home just a bit later. He came over to me, put his finger up to his lips again, "Shhh..." We didn't discus it that night.
Santa comes back here each year and my Dad is now with him.
"Merry Christmas Pop!" You will always be my Santa Claus.
