We always called today Christmas Eve Eve figuring we were so close to the real thing today deserved its own special name, but being so close to the BIG day meant the day passed slowly. It was as if we could hear the clock tick away the minutes. Seeing the wrapped presents under the tree didn’t help. They heightened the anticipation.

I remember one Christmas Eve my mother sent me to the white store for milk. We had no snow so I rode my bike. I remember riding and thinking Christmas Eve was such a momentous day that doing an errand was just wrong.

We watched A Christmas Carol on TV. My favorite Scrooge was and is Alastair Sims. I always think A Christmas Carol movie has to be in black and white. Those colors seem to heighten the dreary mood and the bah humbug of Scrooge. The ghost of Christmas future was a bit scary. He never spoke, just pointed. That was eerie.

My mother was the best Santa. She bought us the perfect gifts. One Christmas I got a new skirt, a furry white sweater and a medallion on a gold chain. I changed into my new outfit to go to mass. I felt special.

After midnight mass, my grandparents would come to our house to watch us open our presents and see our toys. We got woken up which was both good and bad. It was good because we got to see all our gifts really early, but it was bad because we had to go back to bed. One year I got a big, soft doll with elastics on her feet. The elastics attached to my shoes so she and I could dance together. She always followed perfectly. I brought her to bed with me. Later, my brother and I sneaked downstairs to play with our toys. I put the doll in my bed and covered her. My parents yelled down for my brother to get back to bed. They saw the doll under the covers and thought I was still bed. I stayed up and played. My brother was nice enough not to squeal on me.

Today is cold. This is winter indeed. I am still sick, but I think I am getting better. I have had only one nap so far today and no one on the phone has called me sir.

The dogs are in and out quickly. When they come back inside, their fur is cold to the touch. They keep standing in front of the treat cabinet. I guess they feel they need to bulk up to face the cold of winter.

When I was a kid, Christmas was the biggest day of the year. It took a great deal of preparation. We had to go through the Sears catalog time and again to figure out what we wanted so we could write our letters to Santa. I always used to add the item number so they’d be no confusion. Outside lights came next. My father would bring up the boxes of lights from the cellar. The bulbs were big and got hot. He’d place them across the tops of the bushes beside the front door.

The tree was bought. My parents did the tree shopping. My father’s choice was always a bit skimpy with a few holes in the middle. My mother always chose the fullest tree, the more expensive tree. My father set the tree up in the living room so the branches could fall. It would stand there, in its corner, for a few days. The aroma of pine filled the house. Finally it was time to decorate. First came the tree lights. The strings of lights were entangled in balls. My father put them up and took them down so the all the entanglements were his fault. He cursed loudly and often. After the strings were untangled, it was time to figure out the bad bulb. One bad bulb meant the string didn’t light. My father had a technique, and it seemed to work. He’d then circle the tree with the lights. The outlet nearest the tree had several strings of lights plugged into it. I don’t know why it never shorted out. My father’s tree work was done.

My mother was in charge of decorating the tree. She’d wrap the garlands, the silver garlands, around the tree. Ornaments went on next. We all took instructions as to what bulbs went high and what bulbs went low. Once that was done it was icicle time. We were tossers. She wasn’t. Her icicles went on the branches one at a time. The tree looked beautiful.

Decorating the house and making cookies followed the tree. We had plastic Santas which lit up, ceramic carolers and reindeer. The nativity had its own spot on the table. Some of the figures had chips, but that didn’t matter. The arrangement was pretty much the same every year: wisemen on the left, shepherds and sheep on the right and Mary, Joseph and their baby in the middle.

After all of that, we still had days of waiting until Christmas, what felt like endless days.

Today is winter. It is cold, 35°. The sky is partly blue as the sun has poked through the grey clouds, but the sun isn’t enough. It is light, not warmth. It is a day to stay close to hearth and home.

This cold is still hanging around. I spend my days on the couch, mostly napping. The dogs join me.

A box from my sister Moe was delivered yesterday. I have left it unopened. I figured Nala would steal whatever she could. My backyard would be cluttered with wrapping paper, festive but nonetheless messy.

My mother used to put wrapped presents for each of us under the tree. We knew what one of the presents was, new pajamas. She would tell us on Christmas Eve we could open one gift, but she wouldn’t let us pick. It was always the new pajamas. It was always anticlimactic.

My sister Moe has a Christmas talent. She can pick up a gift, shake it a couple of times and then guess correctly what it is. She honed this talent when she was young. Back then she’d tear a small piece off the corner of the wrapped gifts under the tree, hers and ours, and then guess the gift. She was right every time.

My mother used to hide gifts in the eaves and in a downstairs closet. One Christmas Eve I was awakened by music. I peeked. My father was in the eaves and my mother was below, in the hall. He was handing the gifts to her, the Santa gifts, the gifts she had hidden. The toy that woke me was a push toy for my sister Moe. It played music when you pushed it. I stayed awake listening. My mother made trip after trip carrying presents down the stairs. When they were both in the living room, I crept down the stairs. I watched them put the presents under the tree. I didn’t get caught. After a bit, I sneaked back to bed and easily fell asleep. Morning came quickly.

I am taking today off and also maybe tomorrow. My cold has returned with a vengeance. All I want to do is snuggle under warm covers and sleep. I am taking cold meds which do seem to be helping as I actually slept through the night. It is only when I move that I cough and get short of breath. What is the punch line of that old joke? Then don’t move!

If I feel better later, I’ll post some music.

I already need a nap!!

Talk to you later!

Today’s weather is a bit scary. The wind and the rain started last night. Both are continuing this morning. The paper described the storm as a possible bomb cyclone, a winter hurricane, with winds between 40 and 70 mph. Gusts could get as high as 85 mph. I can hear the wind howling, and even now the trees are swaying and bending. I expect pine branches to fall in the backyard. The few leaves still on branches haven’t a chance.

My cold took a break but is now back in full force. I’m coughing and wheezing. It isn’t pleasant. I made a phone call yesterday, and the woman I was talking to kept calling me sir. I didn’t bother to correct her.

When I was a kid, we always hoped for a white Christmas, but that was a rarity. We rode bikes instead of sleds. I loved my sled. It was wooden with metal steering at the front and metal rails underneath. It always got rusty over the summer. The first ride down the hill was anti-climatic. The sled kept stopping. It left a trail of brown rust on the snow. After a couple of runs the rust disappeared then it was smooth sailing, so to speak.

I have to go out. I don’t want to go out, but I have to go to the post office, and I need a few essentials like cream for my coffee and bread. Nala stole my last loaf of bread. I foolishly left it on the counter. That dog is quick.

This won’t be long today. I’m already tired, and I just got up a bit ago. I’m thinking today will be a wash but not because of the rain. I’ll need a nap after venturing into the storm. The dogs are already napping. They had a busy morning of going out once and getting treats twice. I don’t know how they survive.

Today is cloudy, but it is warm, in the 50’s. It will be cloudy all day. I am staying put today. My cold is back, worse than it had been. I’m going to stay nestled under a warm afghan and hope to feel better. The dogs will love it. Nala sleeps beside me against the the back of the couch while Henry sleeps at the bottom by my feet. They are comfortable. I am not.

I love Christmas carols. It doesn’t matter how often I hear them. I play them all, over and over because their time and season are limited. My mother used to play the albums on her hifi. We had the Bing Crosby album which I think every family in America had. My mother had her Frank Sinatra Christmas. I had Guy Lombardo. We had albums from Firestone and W.T. Grants, each record had a variety of singers and songs and new albums came out very year. I have four of the Firestone collection. I sing along with each of them.

We used to stencil the picture window. We used glass wax on Christmas stencils. It was easy. All you did was dab the glass wax on the stencil and voila, the stencil was transferred to the window. All of the figures were white. I remember Santa the best. He was a bit roly poly, was coming out of a chimney and was waving. We had trees and Santa in his sleigh with the reindeer. We took turns doing a stencil. The window was covered. We thought it was beautiful.

School seemed to last longer and longer the closer we got to Christmas vacation. The nuns had to work harder to keep us busy and quiet so they had us reading stories or coloring, most nativities. I remember a lot of brown and blue. The baby always had yellow hair.

We kept the tree lit, but the window candles didn’t go on until the late afternoon when the day started to darken. No one had white lights in the windows. Ours were orange but there were other windows with red or green lights. We always took a ride to see the lights. There was a lot of oohing and aahing. We went to Saugus to the street where very house was covered in multi-colored lights. The traffic moved slowly, all the better to see everything.

This year I have noticed more lights. I move slowly so as not to miss anything. My head swivels from side to side. I ooh and aah!

First up, I apologize for yesterday. The time got way from me. I woke up late and had to leave shortly thereafter for my concert. By the time I got home, I was tired enough to need a nap.

Today I have another concert, but this time I am up early. The concert is at the Hot Chocolate Sparrow in Orleans. From where we play, everything I can see is chocolate. It is a scene from a dream!

Today is a beautiful day. The sun is shining in a blue sky without a single cloud. The air is calm. It is in the 40’s, another warm winter’s day.

When I was a kid, we used to get small decorated cardboard boxes with hard Christmas candy inside. The boxes had different scenes. I remember one box with wise men, ladened down with gifts, riding camels. The strap was white. The candy inside always stuck together. I remember I used to bite it apart. My favorites were green, the spearmint, and red, the peppermint. Ribbon candy was also a favorite. It is a pretty candy with stripes of different colors, but it too was usually stuck together in the box. I liked the thin ribbon candy best.

My brother and I used to walk to church together on Christmas morning. My parents always went to midnight mass. We went to the earliest mass we could to get it over with. We hated leaving all our new toys. The earliest mass was around six. We were the only ones walking, and we saw no cars. Some houses had lights. We could see lit Christmas trees through the windows. The mass was quick, no sermon. It was worth the cold, dark walk.

On Christmas morning, my parents were tired. My father would have his coffee and newspaper. My mother would sit on the couch and watch us. I remember showing her what Santa had brought, and she seemed surprised. We never had a formal breakfast. We were too busy to eat, but not too busy to eat some of the chocolate from our stockings.

Every Christmas Day, in the afternoon, we went to East Boston to my grandparent’s house. The house was filled with relatives. My mother was one of eight kids and all but two had kids of their own. My grandparents had gifts for every one of us. They also gave each of us one of those boxes of hard candies.

I have so many memories of Christmas.

The morning is pretty, bright and clear. Everything is still. It is in the low 40’s, warm by winter standards. The dogs are having their morning naps, not to be confused with their afternoon naps or their evening naps. I’m almost healed, but I’m still tired. I’ll join the dogs for an afternoon nap on the couch. This is a busy week, a busy uke week with practice, a lesson and four concerts though I won’t attend them all, maybe only three. I still need my tree. I’m thinking Thursday. I just haven’t felt good enough. The next time I hit the deck I hope it is during a quiet time of the year, certainly not at Christmas, my favorite time of the year.

My sisters and I say we got the Christmas bug from our mother. She always made the season so very wonderful. The house was filled with fun and unique Christmas decorations. The tree stood in a corner of the living room in all three houses where we lived. The nutcracker wearing red stood by the fireplace as did the Santa I needle pointed for my mother one year. The old ceramic Santa cups spelling noel for the handles and Mr. and Mrs Claus salt and pepper shakers came out every year. I found the same Santa cups and salt and pepper shakers and bought them. They are on my table every year. Santa has a curly beard. The shadow box above the couch got a small garland across the top. Every table had some sort of decoration. The dining room table groaned under the weight of all those cookies.

One of my favorite Christmas traditions was going to the Christmas fair held by my parish every year. It was at the town hall up the street from my school. We walked two by two by class from the school accompanied by the nuns. Once we reached the town hall, we were free. My mother gave us money for lunch and for buying some Christmas presents. The lunch was hot dogs every year. They had tables with inexpensive gifts. Some gifts were only a dime. My sister Moe bought my mother a Christmas cactus one year. It lived forever, even longer than my mother. It was on the end of the kitchen table by the window. Every year it bloomed with red flowers. I remember buying white handkerchiefs for my father. He always carried one in his back pocket. It was always rumpled.

Last night the mighty storm started. The rain pelted the windows. The wind shook the house and trees. I could hear the chimes from the pine tree branch by the back stairs. Its sound sweetened the air. The rain is still falling, but the wind has subsided. The morning is warm, in the high 40’s. I will not be getting my tree today.

The dogs went out this morning then turned right around and came back inside. They are not rain dogs. I have left the back door open in case their need is greater than their dislike for the rain.

Today I hope to start decorating for Christmas. I also want to write out my Christmas cards. I bought them last summer at the Edward Gorey house.

I love my Christmas ornaments. Every year when I put them on the tree they bring back so many memories. Some are glass ornaments from my childhood trees. My mother gave us each a box of them. I always put them high up as my cat likes to whack hanging ornaments, and now Nala presents a danger. She’ll steal anything. I have ornaments from Ghana. Some are bead people and a couple look like the round family compounds from up north where I lived. Every time I travel I bring back ornaments from the countries I visit. From Hungary are two doilies with designs in the middle. They are heart shaped. I have a wooden Pinocchio from a small toy shop in Florence. I have cloth ornaments from Peru. They are from a small outdoor market in Puno. A few ornaments are gaudy souvenirs. One is of Christ the Redeemer in Rio. It is small and round with a garish blue background. Another is a picture of the site at the equator. It has a shack on it, the same place where I bought the souvenir. From Morocco, I have tassels, two of them, one red and the other orange. Because Morocco is an Islamic country, the tassels were the best I could do. They hang from the ends of branches, and the bottoms sway when I walk by them.

I have several cloth ornaments. Some are historical figures like Abagail Adams and George Washington. A few are poets. Emily Dickinson is one of them. Captain Hook is always placed right by Peter Pan but never close enough for Hook’s purposes. Mark Twain and Sherlock Holmes are made of some stiff material. Twain is holding a book. I have a new one, Edgar Allan Poe.

Every year Christmas brings with it all of my past Christmases. Each one holds memories and dreams and even a few hopes.