Christmas Memories

Saturday, December 25th, 2010, was a very white Christmas in Atlanta. We were spending time at my brother’s house when my nephew approached me: “Aunt Audrey, we were sharing our favorite Christmas memories, and I want to know what yours might be.” Never one who has liked to be put on the spot, I answered with my usual non-committal response, “Well Andrew, I’ll have to think about that one and get back with you. I just have so many.”

After replaying as many past Christmas’ as I could, I came up with this one word that described all the memories: togetherness. Because all the memories no matter what circumstance they include, or even who they include, I always see us “together” as a group, and as a family.

• I see us all gathering around the front room in Grandma Lucye’s and Julian’s house on East 63rd while the family Bible was opened to hear the story of Christmas read aloud.
  
• While at Grandfather Eitel’s house in Pooler, we enjoyed running with our cousins through the mazes of bushes in the yard, circling the large wrap-around porch, and later being served dainty punch and pound cake.
  
• Our Christmas celebrations in the tiny town of Glennville brought total chaos in the main room as everyone overflowed to other rooms just for a seat. On the ride over, we had to “review” the family tree because there were so many cousins and cousins having babies. It was hard for us to keep up. And they all came to celebrate together.
  
  I also have very specific memories of us doing nearly everything together like:


• eating Aunt Jojo’s Christmas Tree cookies (what a labor of love)
  
• opening the Life Saver Books (I’ll trade my Butter Rum for your Wild Cherry)
  
• guessing which gift had the can of Pork N’ Beans hidden inside, and
  
• arguing over whether to "toss" or "place" the silver icicles on the tree.

Ahhh…good times!

What comes to mind as my favorite memory is plain and simple: togetherness. We don’t spend Christmas exactly like we did before. We have different places to gather and new traditions for our own children. But some things will never change. Whoever makes it for the celebration is always welcome. Whoever doesn’t is sorely missed.
As the years have passed, we have lost so many of our loved ones. It seems each year brings more poinsettias for the cemetery, rather than the mantel. My father joined so many of our loved ones this year that surely he celebrates Christmas more like the old days than we do. And down here on earth, we take comfort knowing that one day we will join them in the Christmas celebration, all together again.

Holiday Funnies

Halloween
All the skeleton decorations are called X-rays. “Let’s ride around the and see all the X-rays!”

First ER Visit
Under the influence of drugs, Lucye was in her father’s arms when she looked at the nurse and said, “Doctor, Daddy has a boo-boo on his nose. Can you fix it for him?”
The nurse said, “Lucye, I’m kinda busy right now, can you fix for me?”
To which a puzzled Lucye replied, “But I’m not a doctor!”

When she was sick: “Let me use the re-mometer.” (Thermometer)

3-Year Old Christmas

Why does SNOWGrandma talk funny?

Sugar Plums
Christmas morning, I walked into Lucye’s bedroom. She was dragging and drowsy, and I said, “Okay Lu, let’s go downstairs and see if Santa came.” To which my very smart child perked up and said “Santa’s downstairs?” “Oh, no, I’m sorry Baby; I meant to see if Santa came last night and left you some presents while you were here in bed dreaming of sugar plums.” Her face lit up and her eyes popped open “There are sugar plums downstairs???”
And so, while she was viewing the goods, Mom had to sneak into the kitchen and find a box of gingerbread men boxed cookies she had bought at Target before Lucye fell and knocked out her front tooth (thus eliminating any crunchy foods) earlier in December. At Christmas breakfast, we heated warm milk and let the gingermen get soggy enough for her to eat her “sugar plums.”

On the evening on December 26th, Daddy told her she could have the last sugar plum. I heated her milk in bowl in preparation for soaking the cookie, and then handed her a metal spoon and said “Do you want to….” She quickly replied, “Yes, let me stab that cuss.” Not sure where that one came from… Of course five minutes later she said. “That was the last one? Let me see the box.”

In Memory of Michael

God willing, Lucye will spend the rest of her life celebrating holidays such as the Fourth of July with all the traditional fanfare: cookouts, flag waving and fireworks. I will, most likely, be with her many of those years to come. My celebration will be outward and bittersweet, because inside, I’ll be remembering the life and death of Michael Merriman. And so will many, many others.
How did this happen? My lifelong friend discussed with her husband how their son of 22 years, with such a bright future ahead of him—where he could have touched so many lives, could have been called to God so early. They concluded that perhaps he was meant to touch even more lives with his death.
After personally witnessing Michael’s celebration of life and spending time with his family, his church, and his friends, I believe he is touching more than lives. He is touching souls.
His life by example leaves such a mark on the heart, he will never be forgotten. His past life alters future actions, and allows us to see again the power of the Almighty working—through a boy. A boy that loved little children so much, that his church home is dedicating a playground to him. Plainly put, he walked his faith. He knew what was important.
The very last earthly action he took was going to bed with the Bible beside him. In my mind, this one simple act, in a world so full of temptations to young people, speaks mountains of his character. Everyone has choices. His choice was to know and understand the love and the power of Christ. His life choices allow his parents, and everyone who knew him, the comfort of never doubting where he is now. Lucye didn’t have the honor of knowing Michael. But she knows his parents. They told us many times in the past that Michael would love Lucye. I know now they weren’t just being nice. He would have loved Lucye, because he clearly saw all children thorough the eyes of love, just as God intended.

Poppa

I sat down at the end of the breakfast table this morning with my bowl of cereal. Lucye looked up at me, and then had a pained look on her face. Both Robert and I rushed to her side and inquired as to what was wrong. Was her throat hurting? What on earth was wrong? She said only this: “Mommy sat down with her cereal in Poppa’s chair.”
Lucye’s Grandfather Eitel, or “Poppa” as all his grandchildren called him, went to heaven on February 9th of this year. Right now, Lucye only knows that Poppa went to visit his Father.

We have to remind her daily it seems that is where he is. Every time a frog is mentioned or spotted (which is actually a frequent thing—usually stuffed, in books, or on the TV), Lucye tells us the frog needs to go get in Grandma’s pond and then she (Lucye) will stir the pond plants with a stick and find the octopus (a plant that grows deep and does, in fact, look as though it has arms) and then asks if or when she can show it to Poppa. She likes to show him the ones with one eye open and one eye closed.

She often remarks that Poppa is still sleeping. He was usually the last one to the breakfast table in the mornings, or asleep in a den chair. I think it was thanks to him that she learned to be quiet—or at least as quiet as she can be.

If the DHA works as well as we think it might, Lucye may have very specific memories of Poppa. Just recently, he had played “crab” with her using his fingers to chase her across the kitchen table. She really enjoyed that and laughed, never growing tired of it.

They were really starting to have fun. From his chair they could toss around the mini GT footballs. One day he showed her a Time magazine that had an old, deflated football on the cover, and she still talks about how Poppa has the picture of a sad, tired football.

Last summer during the beach trip, he fell in the surf line of waves and got wet. She was very worried, even though he laughed about it at the time. All summer long, or anytime the beach trip is mentioned, she still says “Poppa won’t fall in the water this time.” In a strange way, I’m glad one of her memories will be of him in the saltwater. Being anywhere near the ocean was his idea of paradise.

Lucye hugged him good-bye when we left Savannah on Saturday, February 6th. We had been there for a week for her to visit her grandparents. The last time we saw him was while he was standing at the front door waving good-bye as our car pulled away.

My job now is to create a compilation of his many architectural projects so that when she is older, she can visit specific houses and buildings around Savannah to get a sense of his life’s work. It goes without saying that to capture the essence of his character will be a greater challenge. His childhood friends will tell you he was “pure delight” to be around. He was always up for good clean fun, and often the most amusing person in the room.

As his daughter, I can tell Lucye he was the most giving man I’ve ever experienced, but one needs lots of concrete examples to get a real feel for that sort of thing. If you attended his funeral, you probably understood as real people told stories of his generosity that even many family members didn’t know about—because he rarely let anyone but the recipient know. That was my father.

I look up to the heavens, and I talk to my Dad sometimes. But when I look down, I see Lucye. I do believe she has inherited his love of life and easy laughter. And she is very loving as well. Lucye, even though I know you are your own person, I still can’t help but stare into your blue eyes and desperately look for my Dad. I don’t have to look long, because I know he’s in there….part of you and part of me, always.