Whitey Whiskers Kills Christmas

I only had one cat when I was a kid. My farm Grandmother Clara picked out a kitten for me when I was 4, it was my birthday present. He was a barn cat. When the kitten was weaned, she sand box trained him and handed him over. He was perfectly white and I named him Whitey Whiskers, I loved him, Mom hated him.

Whitey followed me around, Whitey slept with me.Damn I loved that cat!

On Christmas Eve, we came home to our little GI Bill house, full of family Christmas Cheer. I'm hauling in my presents. I got a lot, I was the only grand kid on both sides. Mom unlocked the door, went in. Dad and I heard a scream.

Whitey had climbed the Christmas tree, he had pulled it over, lights and bulbs smashed, water from the stand all over the floor. Mom was over the moon pissed. Dad and I exchanged uncomfortable looks, then he started to laugh and so did I, our behavior cranked Mom to 11.

"That's it the damn cat is going." Mom was in tears, Dad and I were laughing. "I've never liked cats, I hate cats, always have."

Whitey was smart, he was no where to be seen. Mom turned on me, "Do you think Santa Claus is going to come tonight? Your cat destroyed our tree and Santa doesn't have anyplace to leave your presents!" That knocked the buzz off my Christmas.

Dad and I cleaned up, Mom went to bed, she slammed the bedroom door too. Once the tree was back up, it didn't look too bad. Dad poured himself a drink, I had milk and Grandma's Christmas cookies. and Whitey stuck his head out from behind the sofa, ran over and jumped on my lap, I let him lap some of my milk.

We finally went to bed. It took Dad a while to get in the bedroom, Whitey slept on my pillow as usual.Santa did show up and things seemed fine.

Whitey went back to the farm on Christmas Day. he moved into the barn and became a top flight mouser. He was still my cat, every time I was at the farm Whitey would climb all over me. He lived a good life for a long time, probably sired 50 litters over his lifetime. He was happy doing what he was born to do.

Never had another cat, but I did get a Cocker Spaniel that spring, plenty of Dusty the Dog stories are in the memory bank. Mom liked dogs a lot more than she liked cats, that was a relief.

Merry Christmas.

A Christmas Eve Party and the Old Man nails it!

Some time in the early 70's...



It's Noon on Christmas Eve, the word goes out that at three we're having a little Christmas Cheer at the hotel across the parking lot from the radio station, that perks everybody up, free drinks for everybody, except for the guy in the newsroom and the poor bastards on the air!

The entire staff runs across the lot at three sharp and settles in for the free stuff, snacks, drinks all on the house. Everybody is there, from the owner's ancient private secretary to a couple of the geeky engineers.

By 5 things are really rolling, the General Manager of the hotel tries to close the bar at 5 so his people could go home, we all shout "Hell no, we won't go!" He relents, puts a dozen bottles of booze up on the bar, locks the rest up, takes the coin box out of the juke box so it will play for free. He locks the door, on the way out he tells his pal, our sales manager, don't let anyone in and make sure the door is locked when you leave. The party roars on. A few of the staff ladies are dancing on the bar by 7, I danced with the owners ancient secretary, ever been ground on the dance floor by a woman the same age as your grandmother?

A  few hotel guests, lonely guys, stare through the glass in the locked door and then wander off to do whatever guys stuck in hotels do on Christmas Eve.

I look at my watch, "Shit it's almost 8, I said I'd be home by 5:30!" I find George, he's riding with me, I pull him out and we slip and slide across the parking lot back to the station and get in the car, just as I'm pulling out of the parking lot, Geo says, "Shit, I left my wife's present in my office!" he goes in and gets a microwave oven, all wrapped up for Christmas. I stick it in the trunk and we head out on the slippery, icy streets. The only reason we are both alive today is I grew up driving on that kind of shit and there was zero traffic on Christmas Eve.

We get to Geo's house, it's sleeting and his driveway is slick. I unlock the trunk and Geo gets the microwave, he slips backwards and the oven goes in the air, it revolves in slow motion about six times and crashes to the hard concrete. The Christmas wrapping looks like shit, Geo says "Merry Christmas Baaaabeee" picks up the microwave and stumbles in the house and I head home.

When I get home, I'm greeted by a very pissed off wife, my daughters are on the verge of tears, my mother is more angry than my wife, my high school brother and sister are smirking and my father  pushes through the crowd standing in the hall and says, "ROBERT YOU"RE AN ASSHOLE!"

I spent the balance of the evening with glazed eyes, being ignored by everyone other than my father who spends the next three hours giving dirty looks. Geo had gone straight to bed when he got home and his younger brother who'd flown in from Winnipeg for Christmas spent all night putting Geo's kids toys together.

We both were in deep trouble for the balance of the year for all the right reasons, too.

A Very, Very Thunderbird Christmas

When I was a Junior in high school I had my first "real girlfriend". I had started dating her in the summer, I'd had my eye on her for awhile and I finally got up the nerve to ask her to dance at one of the Park Board's Summer Tennis Court Dances, we hit it off and became a couple. By the time Christmas rolled around, we were pretty "thick" as my Mom used to say. Lots and lots of kissy face and my clumsy first base moves were happening.

Our family Christmas was traditionally Christmas Eve at my dad's folks house and Christmas Day at my mom's parents. I invited my girl friend, she accepted with the condition that we leave early enough to get to her house so we could open presents with her parents and her younger sister. Perfect.

My dad was feeling the spirit of the season and offered to let me take any car I wanted off the used car lot to drive over the holiday, I picked this one.

A 1960 Thunderbird Coupe, 390 V8 with black and white leather interior, was my girl impressed? She was. I wore a blue blazer, gray slacks, crew neck gray sweater and had a shirt and tie on underneath the jacket and sweater. She wore a red Bobby Brooks sweater and skirt combo.(remember the line from John Mellencamp's Jack and Diane?)

She was a hit at the Christmas Eve celebration, she played piano with my grandmother, sang hymns and smiled sweetly as I did my annual bible reading. We ate, opened presents and hit the road for the 26 mile drive to her house. It was Christmas cold, 20 below and clear as a bell. We stopped and parked. The Thunderbird had a terrific heater, it was on full blast. The Bird had front bucket seats so we climbed in the back. We started kissing and one thing lead to another, the next thing we knew all of our clothes .were in the front seat and we were as naked as the baby Jesus in the back. It was great, first time for me and for her, being naked that is. We didn't do anything beyond kissing and enjoying our skin touching. What a Christmas present! From that Christmas on we were always naked, in the car, in her bed, on my bed, in the cabin or on the boat at the lake, on top of the ski jump in Lincoln Park and too many picnic tables to remember.

Funny thing is that we went together for almost 3 years and never actually had sex. But we sure made love in every other way possible.

So Merry Christmas Ms X, hope your memory of that remarkable Christmas Eve is as good as mine.

The Christmas 'Tacks"

 

My old man had a heart attack the summer I was 14. In those days they had no clue how to handle a 39 year old man who’d had a massive heart attack. The old man damned near died. Dr. Graham took a drag on his cigarette and told Dad to “stay in bed for a year, oh yeah and quit smoking” so he did. The result he was bored, pissed and didn’t make any money. Zero. It was a tough time for all of us.

I grew from 5 foot 8 to 5’11’’ from the end of 8^th grade to the start of 9^th. All my pants were too short, my shoes didn’t fit and worst of all my size 8 skates didn’t fit my brand new size ten feet. Mom told me new skates were out of the question. I needed clothes, badly. That was what I getting for Christmas.

We had a helluva Junior A hockey team, we’d all played together since 6^th grade. My pals and I knew we could win it all this season. Gary, Don, John, Dick, Roger and I believed it. I knew I needed new skates. I needed CCM Pro-Lites with the Tackaberry boot. They cost 125.00 in those days. Things, due to inflation over the years are about 7 times more expensive today and if you multiply 125 by 7 comparable skates today cost over $800. Get the picture?

My sister Margo came to me after Thanksgiving, she led me into mom and dad’s room and pointed out a CCM box on the top shelf of Mom’s closet. I took it down and there were my dream skates, the same skates the Pros wore, that the Sioux wore. I couldn’t believe it. We were broke! I tried them on, perfect fit.

The season started in early December with practices on the Central park ice. I suffered through the first one wearing my old skates. Thin socks didn’t help; my new feet were too big. The next day I put my old skates in the new CCM box and put the Tacks with my gear. I started wearing them. I could skate like the wind.
The first game, I blocked a shot, my new Tacks got a dent in the right front post. The 2^nd game I got in a battle for the puck in the corner and the toe of my left skate lost a chunk of leather. I was wearing my Christmas present to three practices a week plus two games. I played pick up hockey on Saturdays and Sundays and at least one night a week went to public skating at the old rink at UND. The 3^rd game, I blocked another shot and dented the post on the left skate. I had the skates rockered and sharpened at least twice a week. By Christmas the Christmas Tacks were well broken in and roughed up. The tree was up and the CCM box was wrapped and it had my name on it.

Our family routine at Christmas was Christmas Eve at my Dad’s parents, open our presents at home on Christmas morning and then Christmas Day at Moms’ parents. When we got home on Christmas Eve, I stayed awake until well after one. I razored open the CCM box and put the new Tacks in it and wrapped it back up. I had polished them the best I could. We opened our presents on Christmas morning, I waited as long as I could. I got new pants, shirts and sox. I had pants that fit for the first time in months. The last present, the CCM box wrapped in red foil paper was glowing like it was radioactive. I finally had to open it. I did an acting job that warranted an Oscar. My Dad asked to see my new skates, he looked them over and then said to my Mom, “Janice, I thought we got him new skates? These look like they’re used.” I confessed. My mother knew all along, she always knew everything.

It was a very good Christmas at a difficult time for our family. My grandparents helped make the new Tacks happen, mom had scrimped and saved.

Our team won Junior A that season.

Post Christmas Post

For the 2nd time since we've been together, Jan was down with the flu over Christmas....who does she think she is, what was she thinking? Kidding aside, she soldiered through it and seems to be on the road to recovery, good thing too, because our anniversary is on Saturday and we leave on on our Christmas trip on Sunday. Out of necessity it was a quiet, passive Christmas celebration at our house.

Best present...our new memory foam mattress....wow! I tried the pillow a few months ago and it helped my chronic neck problems. If memory serves me, wasn't memory foam developed by NASA for astronauts seating. If it was, you can add it to the long, long list of things that have made life better through the space program.

I made Jan a Vitamin C Martini on Christmas Eve. Keitel One Vodka, splash of white vermouth, splash of pineapple-orange-banana juice, well shaken and served with a rim crusted with candy cane and vitamin C tablets (after trying it I left the rim alone during the 2nd round) Tasted good and it enhanced Jan's Robitussin high nicely.

When I was a kid, my Mom and Grandmas always made dish after dish for holiday meals. Usually it was the only time of the year that parsnips, turnip and rutabagas were served. Now I do them all roasted in the oven, no boiling. Carrots,turnips, squash, rutabaga, parsnips, doused with olive oil, salt and pepper....love them. We usually have prime rib on Chrismas Eve, since there were just the two of us (our friend Babs showed up,later) I was shopping for a small prme rib, like 3 ribs, smallest I could find was 4, most were 6 or 9 and yes, friends, beef prices have sky rocketed....about 12 bucks a rib by my mental calculations. Bought an organic turkey instead, a three meal, 2 lunch purchase. for 30 bucks. Turkey soup is on the menu tonight.

We have an additional Christmas celebration a week from today in Santa Cruz...the grandsons are spending a couple of days with us in the Airstream. I get the feeling that one of them will be sleeping in the back of the GC....as the dinette is pretty small for a 9 and 13 year old plus a German Shepard. We're keeping our trip internary loose, the Santa Cruz stop is locked in and lunch with Andy McClure and his wife in San Rapheal is too. We found an RV Park surrounded by the Point Reyes National Seashore, we'll base there and visit Jan's wine vendors in Sonoma one day and drive over the hill to Napa the next, we have been invited to park the AS at one of the wineries in Napa.

The final 4 days will be played by ear and the weather, a stop in Big Sur on the way back and if the Cochruns are around we'll make sure to see them in Cambria. Looking forward to holing up the AS with a couple of new books, trying out my Christmas Dutch oven and snuggling with The Cakes and the dog.

My sis Kathy and her husband (the good bro in law) got back from 8 days in London a few days before Christmas...had a spectacular time, only to get back to find Larry's mom in the hospital.