NaBloPoMo Writer's block

Why is it that I can write blogs in my head all day long, but sit down at the computer and not one thought comes to mind? I draw a blank. Well, it’s November and as you can probably tell by the badge to the right, I have decided to participate in NaBloPoMo. They have a link page where I can see all the blog that are participating and have linked up. This is my impression so far:

1.      The vast majority of them are professional authors. They get paid to write.

2.      This humble blog is out of its league.

3.      Many of them are book review blogs.

4.      Many of them are homeschoolers.

5.      Many of them are foodies.

6.      Many of them are mommy blogs.

I decided that I should go read a few of those blogs to see if I could get an idea on what to write about. Honestly, I had to read quite a few of them before I found an idea that spoke to me. At the end of her blog about traveling during Thanksgiving Mrs. AOK asks what your most memorable holiday was. 

My Childhood holidays, thanks to my maternal grandparents, were pretty Rockwellian.  We were a large family. My mother had two sisters and two brothers. There were six kids in my family and two of the others had four kids each. My Uncle Ken had a daughter and during the time I am writing about she was living with my grandparents.

It was Christmas, and I was four years old. This particular holiday season had been overwhelmed with tragedy and stress.  My Uncle Ken died shortly before Thanksgiving in a plane crash. My father was in the Army and was a member of the 101^st Airborne. He was due to deploy to South Korea in a few weeks. And to make everything more stressful my mother was nine months pregnant, due any day.

My mother, brother and sisters and I had moved into my grandparents’ home at Thanksgiving. My parents had found a house for us to move into, but it was agreed that we would stay at my grandparents’ until after the baby was born.

My grandparents’ home was very tiny, only around 600 square feet. Having that many people living there was an amazing stress in itself. And it gets even better. My father’s best friend, Uncle Barney had come to spend Christmas with us. There were 12 people staying in that house. Twelve very sad, very stressed people.

On the 21^st of December the forecast was for snow in the evening. My mother went into labor around 5:30 in the afternoon. With this being her 6^th child, and considering the forecast it was decided that she needed to go right into the hospital. After dinner my older three siblings wrapped in blankets and went out on the screened porch. They were chanting “Snow! Snow! Snow!” Uncle Barney was out there with them puffing away on cigarettes and egging them on. My sister and I couldn't go out there because we were considered too young.

God must have heard their demand for snow because it snowed a lot that night. In fact it was a record breaking snow storm for that area. The next day we all went out and played in it and had snow ice cream with chocolate fritters in the afternoon.

That year Christmas Eve was on Sunday. Having us for a whole month before that, my grandmother had plenty of time to teach us to sing Away in the Manger and Silent Night. My sisters and I were the song special for that morning service. My cousin was there, but being only 2 she didn’t do much more than use her skirt to hide her face, flashing the congregation.

That evening my family managed to work through their sorrow to throw the yearly Christmas party. My parents were obviously not there, but Uncle Barney had been there all week to help watch us. He was the historian for my family. Like every holiday, he had his camera actively filming us. He’d filmed our family Christmas the year before and brought his reel to reel projector so that we could watch it. A Sheet was draped over the mantle to act as a screen. My Uncle Ken and his wife were there in the film along with Denise who was less than a year old and just beginning to toddle. Little Neicey kept going up to the sheet to try to touch her parent’s images. It was an emotion filled Christmas party. That film was played at every Christmas Eve party we had together after that.

Uncle Barney put us all to bed that night with the threat that Santa wouldn't come if we didn't go to sleep. To tell the truth, he’d probably been Santa that year. With my mother pregnant and two funerals that year along with a move, my parents were strapped. The older kids had all wanted a phonograph and some records. Cheryl and I just wanted a doll. We all got what we wanted. Denise’s mother’s family had supplied the presents for her. They were much more elaborate than what we got.

Christmas morning was bitter cold. My grandparents had floor heaters and there were two vents that heated the whole house. The room that Cheryl and Neicey and I shared was the last room in the house to get the heat. I was my regular cuddle bunny self and was huddled down under the quilts that had been pieced by my great grandmother. My father came in to ply me out from under the covers. He carried me into the living room to see what Santa had brought me. My brother and older sisters were already huddled around their phonograph. Cheryl was cuddling a doll. My doll was still under the tree to be opened. Uncle Barney was close by watching. I opened the package to find my doll. I was encouraged by my father to name her Sally. Turns out that was Uncle Barney’s mother’s name. Sally became my constant companion for the rest of my childhood. I still have her.

Next my father picked me back up and took me over to a bassinet that I hadn't noticed in front of the fireplace. The yule log was keeping it toasty. He had me look in to see what else Santa had brought me. At that moment my new brother scrunched up his face and turned bright red. Then he let out the scream that could have rivaled a banshee. I climbed up my father’s shoulder, looked him in the eye and asked “Can Santa take that back?” That became the family joke from then on. Anytime we got a weird gift, the question was re-asked.  

So that is my most memorable holiday. What was yours?