A memorable Christmas ... 40 years ago

Tis the time of year for reflecting on Christmases past. Many of us can recall a favorite toy we got or the year the tree fell down or some such thing.

This week, I found myself thinking of Christmas in 1968. The irony is I can't tell you if I got a book, a baseball or even handkerchiefs. The gift I do remember was, as the saying goes in the commercials, priceless.

In early December of that year, Mom suffered some kind of seizure at work. I was just 15 and away at school at the time and was given only the necessary information. All I knew was Mom was very ill and she might not even get home for Christmas.

It was up to my brothers and myself to put the house in Holiday order. We went out and got a tree and decorated it. I don't remember much of the details but it was quite a feat for the four boys, age 15-21, to agree on ornament placement and to work together to turn the tree into a masterpiece.

As soon as we got the word that Mom's doctor was going to allow her to come home for Christmas, we promptly cleaned the house from the attic to the basement. It could have passed a white glove test and even the nuns at St. Francis could have bounced quarters on our beds successfully.

Not everything went perfectly. The first night the tree was up, the cat climbed up and sent it crashing to the floor. (We ended up tying it to a window sill.) Mom had originally bought the cat as a gift for me but she had a special fondness for him. The day she was supposed to come home, he was a muddy mess. I took him to the sink and gave him a bath. Even put a towel in the dryer for him to be warm. The cat took the bath without comment and seemed to love the warm towel. But when I turned my head for a second, he bit my earlobe so hard I bled like crazy. Nobody had ever told me how much some cats disliked water.

My brothers brought Mom home from the hospital with the warning she would be weak and we needed to be careful. When she got into the house, one of the first things she saw a cage with a huge bird in it. "Do you like it? We didn't have time to wrap your gift," said my brother Paul, who was known as the serious one in the family.

"Oh, no," she said, sitting weakly on the couch. "You didn't, did you?"

I'll never forget Mom's smile when she was told we were simply housesitting the bird for a friend of ours who had gone to Florida for the holidays. She knew she had been royally had ... and I suspect she liked the idea a lot.

Nothing was said but I think we all understood this could very well be our last Christmas with Mom. (It turned out to be the case. She passed away the following May.)

Mom had always made Christmas great for us and now we tried to do the same for her. As I recall, my older brothers Frank and John did most of the cooking. (My culinary contribution was mastering a new contraption in the house called a toaster oven.)

Paul, who was very good at these things, did a lot of the cleaning around the house. (There was one odd diversion: the bird, who was fairly quiet, would screech loudly when the vacuum was used. Although our house had a lot of animals in it from time to time, birds were never part of the equation. Now I know why.) I walked the dog without protest, cleaned up the cat's litter daily and attempted to be less than a pain-in-the-butt to my brothers than usual.

The literal memory stops there. I can't tell you a single physical gift I received. But what I can still recall is a general feeling of happiness around the house that year. Even Dad, who was having so many problems with depression he needed to be hospitalized to handle them, came home for Christmas Day dinner and was playful and cheerful.

This was Christmas 40 years ago and I can remember it like it was yesterday.

So this is my holiday wish this year: no matter what your form of celebration is this week (or next), may it be one where peace, harmony and a feeling of good feelings reign in your household. In these tough economic times, we may not be able to give as many physical gifts as usual. Sometimes, however, the best ones you give can't be measured with a pricetag. Best of all, nobody ever wants to return them.