Last Splash

The gene pool could use a little Chlorine.

Christmas in the South

Oh, don't worry, I'm not going to go through any stereotypical back-asswards bible rituals we go through down here or anything...I hope I am not perpetuating the myth that anyone born and raised anywhere between NC and MS are Southern-drawled babbling idiots. I'm going to talk about weather. Yes, weather.

See, there is no snow here like most of the rest of you have (unfortunately, there's no precipitation of any kind). There are no black peacoats with soft furry green scarves and silky leather gloves, no chance of sliding my arms into that great knee length wool dress coat in that hot shade of red I bought on my last NY trip, no corderoys, no boots, no chunky knit turtlenecks. This week, there are denim capri's and little cap sleeve tee shirts and

God-forbid-I-have-to-keep-my-pedicure-up flip-flops!

And if tradition holds, it won't last. Not forever, anyway. It will be 80 degrees today, and tomorrow's highs will be in the 50's. Back to jeans and long sleeve tees and (optional) socks. And, it may snow at some point in the coming winter, but not before or during Christmas. This is not global warming, either, this is normal. In fact, as a child I wished vehemently for a White Christmas each and every year. I think what I have come to realize as an adult is that it was great that we never had one. Because if there is one stereotype that holds true, it is that Southerners don't drive in the snow. (That's an entirely different post altogether...)

In any case, what I was trying to get at was that basically, if it had snowed on Christmas, I could not have spent my glorious childhood at my Granny's house, ringleading a group of ten cousins outside to the field and woods behind her house. 70 degree Christmases were perfect for our expeditions. We opened our presents, ate some snacks (there was never a traditional dinner with so many people there; there were cheeses and meats and pickles and olives and little smokies in barbecue sauce and chips and dips and nuts and so many yummy things to munch on all night long) and were promptly pushed outside by aunts and uncles so that their party could begin. There was this terrific coming of age...first, you wanted nothing to do with the 'old people'. Then, around 12 or 14 you started kind of wondering what they did that made them sound like they had so much fun. Around 16 you got moody and tired of playing with the little kids, and desperately wanted to join the grown-ups. And finally, the Christmas after your 18th birthday, there you were, with your Aunt slipping you a little wine and your older cousin slipping you a drag from his cigarette and your dad slipping you a habanero pepper to eat in front of your uncles. What wonderful memories from Christmas!

This will be the first year that we do not have this celebration on Christmas Day. My sister and I have pushed hard this year to be able to have an intimate Christmas with our immediate family, and by some great power my dad got my aunt, the family matriarch, to agree to have the (lovingly nicknamed "Big Johnson") Christmas party the Sunday before. So, this is the year for new memories...a quiet steak dinner with just the six of us, and an evening spent together without 30 other family members involved. Of course, this means that Christmas now stretched over three days instead of two, but I think I can deal with that just fine... 

posted by: Cannonball14 at 15:54 | link | comments (1) |

Comments:

#1  13 December 2007 - 01:14

 

Good post, wonderfully written.

I, too, remember longing to be older and to see what happened in that distant adult world. In some ways, what a let-down, because they talk about taxes and politics and things that are no fun at all. On the other hand, I can now use four-letter words in polite company, so there is an upside to it all.

Have a merry Christmas, CB! May it not be too rednecky, but just the right amount!

Windhazel

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