"Christmas Eve Eve” is a term I learned fromGeorgia when we were in grade four. I remember it clearly. She called me to hang out (or “play” as you were still allowed to call it when you were nine) and her dad dropped her off on our front porch. I can only remember our front porch ever being used for two purposes; if my parents were having a dinner party, and if Georgia came a calling. Also when Jehovah’s Witnesses came to spread the word, they would come to this door, but it was rarely opened and therefore not used. The use of our front porch for some reason had a kind of formal significance to it. We have innumerable photos of my parent’s friends arriving for various events and dinner parties, standing in the doorway, in costume or with a basket filled with exotic food. Georgia coming over was not necessarily an occasion to be marked, but I always remember her walking up the stairs to the glass door with Pete instead of coming through the basement. I feel, though it is probably a fabrication, that I could probably count on one hand the number of times I myself used the front door over the basement. Let’s just say, they are few and far between.
On this particular day, Pete dropped Georgia off, and I can picture clearly myself standing in the living room, while Georgia took her shoes off in the front hall, and Pete closed the door behind himself before descending the stares to his vehicle which was idling in the driveway. As she bent down to remove her sneakers, Georgia looked at me and said, Hey, did you know that today is Christmas Eve Eve? And thus marked a new holiday.
Christmas Eve Eve has come to bear more significance as I’ve gotten older. In high school, Georgia’s family began throwing their annual Christmas party on this day which came to be known fondly as, “Fam Jam”. “Fam Jam” was us Creeker kid’s first real opportunity to party with our parents and friends alike, no strings attached. (“Fam Jam” was, unfortunately, laid to rest two years ago after it gained popularity up and down the coast. Too much popularity which caused the uninvited to appear at this most sacred of events and ruin it for the rest of us. It was devastating for those of us who looked forward to it every year. Some are still known to cross themselves and mutter RIP Fam Jam under their breath when it is brought up in conversation.)
Now, as I’m older still (a quarter of a century next month), Christmas Eve Eve holds a different meaning, as the day I come home for the holidays every year. For the past three years (today included), on December 23rd, I have lugged my ‘required’ belongings to wherever I call work that year, and waited anxiously for the end of my shift so I can haul my ass to the bus and make the trek to the place where I grew up. The bus and ferry are unfailingly teeming with holiday goers, locals and tourists alike, and I instantly plug myself into my ipod and gaze out the window so as to avoid eye contact with that girl I haven’t seen since graduation day almost seven years ago. The journey is noisy, and crowded and it is the one day a year I can convince my dad to come pick me up from the ferry. We drive home usually listening to the CBC and dad tells me there will be dinner waiting for me when we get home. I will come in through the basement door not the front porch but I always picture Georgia taking her shoes off when I walk past the front hall and think to myself Oh yeah. It's Christmas Eve Eve.
Today, when I arrived home, our house was more festive than I ever remember it being. My parents have found a new spot for our Christmas tree and my mum has found a new method of hanging decorations which involves vintage clothe belts. They even splurged and finally caved to my requests of getting a live tree. Quinn arrives tomorrow. This year will be different than most though. We usually have a multitude of multi family events to attend to including Christmas Eve games night with three other families, "Fam Jam", and another party of some sort none of which are happening . We’ve had Christmas dinner with Johanna’s family at Johanna’s house for the past eight years or so but this year, Johannas in Ottawa and mum decided things have to change sometime!, and so, we’re having dinner at our place, sans Johanna and sans turkey. Jo's family will still be there though and we’re having beef wellington. How's that for breaking tradition? (I don’t care for turkey though, so no love loss).
I suspect there will be no white Christmas either.
Sigh.
Change is hard when it comes to tradition.
We have friends coming by on Christmas afternoon though, which could open doors for a new ritual, and we still are having friends to dinner on the big day.
Change is tough, but I think I can manage.
And when those friends come, I'm willing to lay money on which door they come to.
On this particular day, Pete dropped Georgia off, and I can picture clearly myself standing in the living room, while Georgia took her shoes off in the front hall, and Pete closed the door behind himself before descending the stares to his vehicle which was idling in the driveway. As she bent down to remove her sneakers, Georgia looked at me and said, Hey, did you know that today is Christmas Eve Eve? And thus marked a new holiday.
Christmas Eve Eve has come to bear more significance as I’ve gotten older. In high school, Georgia’s family began throwing their annual Christmas party on this day which came to be known fondly as, “Fam Jam”. “Fam Jam” was us Creeker kid’s first real opportunity to party with our parents and friends alike, no strings attached. (“Fam Jam” was, unfortunately, laid to rest two years ago after it gained popularity up and down the coast. Too much popularity which caused the uninvited to appear at this most sacred of events and ruin it for the rest of us. It was devastating for those of us who looked forward to it every year. Some are still known to cross themselves and mutter RIP Fam Jam under their breath when it is brought up in conversation.)
Now, as I’m older still (a quarter of a century next month), Christmas Eve Eve holds a different meaning, as the day I come home for the holidays every year. For the past three years (today included), on December 23rd, I have lugged my ‘required’ belongings to wherever I call work that year, and waited anxiously for the end of my shift so I can haul my ass to the bus and make the trek to the place where I grew up. The bus and ferry are unfailingly teeming with holiday goers, locals and tourists alike, and I instantly plug myself into my ipod and gaze out the window so as to avoid eye contact with that girl I haven’t seen since graduation day almost seven years ago. The journey is noisy, and crowded and it is the one day a year I can convince my dad to come pick me up from the ferry. We drive home usually listening to the CBC and dad tells me there will be dinner waiting for me when we get home. I will come in through the basement door not the front porch but I always picture Georgia taking her shoes off when I walk past the front hall and think to myself Oh yeah. It's Christmas Eve Eve.
Today, when I arrived home, our house was more festive than I ever remember it being. My parents have found a new spot for our Christmas tree and my mum has found a new method of hanging decorations which involves vintage clothe belts. They even splurged and finally caved to my requests of getting a live tree. Quinn arrives tomorrow. This year will be different than most though. We usually have a multitude of multi family events to attend to including Christmas Eve games night with three other families, "Fam Jam", and another party of some sort none of which are happening . We’ve had Christmas dinner with Johanna’s family at Johanna’s house for the past eight years or so but this year, Johannas in Ottawa and mum decided things have to change sometime!, and so, we’re having dinner at our place, sans Johanna and sans turkey. Jo's family will still be there though and we’re having beef wellington. How's that for breaking tradition? (I don’t care for turkey though, so no love loss).
I suspect there will be no white Christmas either.
Sigh.
Change is hard when it comes to tradition.
We have friends coming by on Christmas afternoon though, which could open doors for a new ritual, and we still are having friends to dinner on the big day.
Change is tough, but I think I can manage.
And when those friends come, I'm willing to lay money on which door they come to.
Merry Christmas
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