The first Christmas I actually remember happened when I was a kid too young to go to the so-called Midnight Mass. My grandfather, Manny stayed home to babysit while our extended family walked to St. Mary’s Church down the street in North Fairhaven.
Vovô, as I called him, was my father’s father and not one of those playful grandfathers. I remember him opening a bottle of red wine and consuming it while we waited for the family’s return. He had the radio on, probably the Portuguese station he loved. Having emigrated from the Azores, he thought the Portuguese singers were the best in the world and he would try to demonstrate that by serenading us. Anyway, we kids were safe with Vovô until Mass was over and the gift exchange began.
Most of my Christmases as a child involved visiting. My parents, especially my father, were sociable people although they never held parties at our home. The one exception was Christmas Eve when people would make the rounds. Most my father knew through the Livesy Club, the sports club in town. The guys likely played on a softball team he coached. It was the only time alcohol was served in our home. I remember as a kid waiting to see if anyone would show up. Eventually, that tradition faded out.
For certain, Christmas’s biggest fan in our family was my late father, Antone Medeiros, known in my hometown of Fairhaven, Massachusetts as “Hawk.” Starting the day after Thanksgiving, my father would answer the phone with “Ho, ho, ho.” (Up to that holiday, it was “Gobble, gobble, gobble.”)
Dad so enjoyed being the center of attention, telling jokes, and singing. I can see him wearing his homemade holiday vest, and even a Santa hat, well, when he wasn’t wearing one of those cowboy hats he was known for.
Our mother always baked two kinds of fruit cakes. She, of course, did the shopping and holiday decorating. I recall one Christmas tree, in which the needles fell off before the holiday.
Yes, we received gifts from Santa until we realized he didn’t exist. I learned that when I happened to be in the attic and found unwrapped gifts intended for my younger sister.
We didn’t get a lot of gifts, understandably for the time. I recall when I was 12 being asked by my mother what I wanted. I honestly didn’t know, but I pointed at a large doll dressed in a taffeta gown. I was well past the stage of playing with dolls, but it seems I wasn’t ready to let my childhood go.
A lasting tradition was going to relatives’ homes to visit aunts, uncles, and oh so many cousins.
For years, we had an early dinner in Acushnet with our grandmother Angela or Vovó, who came to this country from the Portuguese island of Madeira when she was just a teenager. Her food had a rather foreign flavor. My sister Christine and I said she must use a secret spice.
Then we visited our Aunt Ernie and Uncle Louis next door — their sons, Louis and Michael were childhood friends we saw frequently on weekends. They were on my mother’s side. Then we were onto my father’s side, visiting the homes of his sisters. I can’t remember why, but one home we called Devil’s Island.
As for my parents’ friends, I do recall them joining others to visit people they knew late at night. They sang a Portugues song, with instruments, outside their doors until we were let inside. They were expected to feed the group of singers and I presume offer drink. We sleepy little kids went along. But that ended after a few years.
Some people were big into decorating their homes with lights, not us, so we always spent one night around the holidays going on a ride to see them.
Over the many years, I have had a variety of Christmases, including a few awkward ones. Of course, that can happen because the holiday involves real life.
Now to Christmas present … we will spend the holiday with several of our adult children, our two granddaughters, and extended family. Great food and beverages. Heavy on conversations and laughter.
Fun times for sure. I wish the same for you.
About the photo above: Me as a baby when we lived in my grandparents home.