Christmas at Gran's

I loved Gran’s front door. As we ascended the steps from the sidewalk, careful of the icy corners and missing chunks of cement, I looked up at the door. I only knew of one door with a rounded top and a four-pane window. Our doors at home, and all of the other relatives’ doors, were boring and square. This heavy door, though, with its rounded top, was a present waiting to be opened. Magical things were inside. There was laughter and cookies and more love than a seven-year-old girl could imagine.

“Laurie. Beckie.” My gran’s arms were around my sister and I as soon as the door opened to our knock. We hugged and kissed and couldn’t wait to tell Gran all the things we’d been doing on Christmas break.

“Hey, Paul! How ya been?” My Uncle Dave came around the corner and offered my Dad a beer.

“How’s it goin’, Sis?” My Aunt Judy danced over to hug my Mom.

The house smelled of fresh-baked bread and roasted turkey. We were sure there were plenty of sweets, too. I could see Gran’s dining room table from the front hall. There was a huge mirror over the old organ on the opposite wall from that rounded front door. I could see all of my aunts and uncles and my Gran’s siblings in the mirror.

A blue haze hung over Gran’s dining room table. Dad pulled out his pipe and added to the haze. The sweet smell of cherry wafted through the air. We threw out jackets on the floor of the hall closet and went straight for the dining room where all the adults sat enjoying some Christmas cheer. We exchanged kissed, hugs and hellos with our Aunts and Uncles before excusing ourselves to be with the rest of the kids. With 13 grandkids in the family, we were always sure to find someone playing a game in which we could take part.

“Hey Laurie, wanna play Flintstones?”

“Sure,” my sister ran off to be with Jody and Shelly in the living room, which was open to the dining room, separated only by the organ, the centerpiece of Gran’s house. At some point in the day we would all gather round it while Gran played Christmas carols and we all sang, no matter how off key.

“I got a cool tool set for Christmas, Beck. Wanna help me fix this toaster?” Marty sauntered in from the kitchen.

“What’s wrong with it?” I walked behind my cousin Marty into the kitchen where parts were laying in a heap on the linoleum floor.

“Didn’t used to be anything wrong with it.” He plopped down next to the mess. “Sure is now, though.” His big cow eyes looked up at me hoping I could help fix Gran’s toaster before anyone found out what he did. I crouched down beside him to survey the mess.

“Ricky, stop it!” My cousin Anna’s shrill cry pierced the air from the dark, narrow hallway between the kitchen and the dining room. Her brother laughing as she came into the kitchen and threw a fake spider down the hall toward the bathroom in disgust. “Why do you have to be such a creep?”

“It’s what big brothers do.” His lanky frame had been resting quietly on the doorway of the kitchen. He smiled over at Marty and I. “Whatcha doin?”

“Looks like Mart was doing surgery on Gran’s toaster. The patient didn’t make it.” Ricky and I burst out in laughter.

“Joey is a doo-doo head. Joey is a doo-doo head.” My cousin Dan ran through the narrow kitchen, tripping on the toaster parts.

“Hey you guys,” Uncle Rich called from the dining room table. “We can see you in there. Stop your crap right now or else.” We knew we were in plain sight of all the grown-ups. We also knew they were too engrossed in their jokes and chatter to realize that the mess on the floor had once been a toaster.

“Yes sir,” Ricky offered back. He’s no dummy I thought. We didn’t know what or else was, but we all knew that we didn’t want to find out from any of our parents.

“What’s all the ruckus about in here?” a mechanical voice came from the hallway as the bathroom door opened.

“Uncle Paul!” I jumped up and ran to him. He took the machine away from the hole in this throat and picked me up to swing me in the air.

“I told you they had a neat thing for me to talk with,” he said as he put me back down again, the machine pressed to his throat. “It works good, but I know I’m still hard to understand.”

“We always understand each other, Uncle Paul,” I took his large and weathered hand in mine as he lead my back to the table everyone gathered around. Gran always pulled out all the leaves to the dining room table for the adults. We kids ate in the living room at card tables, which was a very special treat. Most of our parents didn’t allow eating in the living room. Gran’s house couldn’t possibly have fit us all, but at Christmas time, it always did. Behind that rounded door was a marvelous, special Holiday treat for us all. The state-of-the-art stereo system (which is archaic now) plopped a Floyd Cramer album down onto the turntable and the smooth, easy sound of “Last Date” came softly through the large speakers on the floor unit. The unit itself was far bigger than most TVs of the day, with a rich cherry finish. As kids we learned our appreciation of music from that stereo system and later expressed it on Gran’s old organ.

Christmas lunch was ready to be served and we stashed the toaster parts on a shelf that stuck out from the end of Gran’s counter. I loved those shelves, too. They were covered in the same linoleum as the kitchen floor and edged in stainless steel. The best part about them, to me, was that they were half-round, just like Gran’s door. We kids filed into the living room where the card tables had been set up for our dining pleasure. The TV wasn’t on, but we didn’t care. We had each other, and that was great entertainment in itself. Our parents brought us each paper plates of turkey, mashed potatoes, and all the other Christmas trimmings we could think of. We were truly in heaven at Christmas time at Gran’s.