Memoir and Memories of Christmas

In which I briefly wish you all a Happy Holidays and Happy New Year.

Photo by Christiaan Huynen on Unsplash

Outside our window, the snow has been encased in ice. The walkways and roads are slick. Walking to the office or the gym is out as all the staircases and the handrails are slick and slippery. A winter wonderland turned treacherous terrain.

Inside, the heat blasts and we eat soup and hot chocolate. The sight outside is peaceful. The park across the street is now abandoned and few cars - I’ve seen none this morning - travel the road to the lake. The trees are stiff, still, there is no wind and they hang heavy with sheaths of ice on naked boughs.

This is new for me for Christmas. I’ve had a few cold, snowy Christmases but just a few, from my days in Kansas and a little bit in Connecticut.

My upbringing was in Southern California. When others were skiing or sledding or getting ready for winter sports, I was wearing shorts, swimming in a heated swimming pool, and riding minibikes or bicycles at Christmas time. Sure, we threw on a sweater and a coat for the frigid high 50s and low to mid 60s winter weather. But only once in my first 23 years in Southern California did I remember the snow reaching the Valley floor - a dusting, really. I was 4. It was the 60s. The 60s seem as long ago as the age of the dinosaurs. It’s a point in history, a diorama in a museum, not an active component of life.

We did Christmas up big, with a Christmas eve feast and friends visiting. And then a Christmas morning gathering of family and friends around the tree with a big breakfast and a bagel feast. Lots of presents for the kids. From the time when I was a kid, we went to the movies in the afternoon, at least my siblings and I did. That held up as a Christmas tradition for years, until the entire city of Los Angeles descended upon movie theaters - everyone stealing our traditions!

We had a fireplace, and though it wasn’t cold compared to other parts of the country, it was the coldest time of year in Southern California. We’d often have a fire made of rolled newspapers and a premade log safely behind sooty chain to warm the house.

Mom made treats and placed them on a Santa platter. Everytime we would pass by, we’d grab a cookie or a rosette. Magically, the platter would fill itself. We wondered what Christms magic did such a thing until one year we saw mom pull the bakery box out from under the tea cart and refill the platter from her box of treats.

Christmas is quieter for me now, but the joy of the season is here. I’m with loved ones and traveling this year to California to spend the holiday with my gf’s family in the Bay Area. I have a couple of books and a computer to continue my writing. Herman, our 4-year old Dachshund, will be traveling with us this year, which will be exciting for him as he gets to see “grandma,” his favorite person.

---

Thank you for all the support this year. Next year will see me ramp up the querying process for My Own Private Waste Land. Stay tuned. I see good things coming my way. My writing career and adventures into freelance editing will take center stage.

Have a lovely holiday. I will continue posting Mondays and Fridays. Please share this newsletter with others as I continue to build audience as I seek traditional publication for my memoir.

May your holidays bring you joy and happiness, good food and good times, and a sense of wonder for the coming new year.

As for me, I’ll . . .

Just keep writing!

It is the time for giving. If you’d like to provide a gift subscription to this newsletter for anyone on our gift list, you have my gratitude.