Kindling
The story of a cast-aluminum pan and the family photos that nearly didn't make it.
I have a small Christmas story for you today. It’s based on a video I shared with family on Facebook one Christmas.
If you’d rather watch than read, the video is right here. To read, keep scrolling.
The story
I’m sitting at the picture window with my nose pressed against the glass. It’s late afternoon on a rainy Christmas Eve in 1964. My cousins and aunts and uncles will be here soon, and I’ve been pestering my mom all day, wondering when they will arrive.
The table is set, the decorations are out, and Gramps is in his rocking chair, twiddling his thumbs back and forth, occasionally muttering to himself, “Yah, yah, yah, yah.”
His popcorn pan is out and ready. Dad pulls out matches to light some candles. Mom opens the record player and puts on a Christmas album.
“Nance, get your nose off that glass! Now I’m going to have to clean the window all over again.”
As the house fills with relatives, I sit in the corner and take it all in. The swirl of voices, the growing pile of presents, Aunt Esther’s date bars, and some funny-looking green Jello salad.
Cousin Jo sits next to me. We don’t know it yet, but Aunt Helen will be giving us each a Barbie doll with a full wardrobe that she sewed.
Gramps turns on the stove. He adds oil and corn kernels to his favorite popcorn pan and starts shaking it back and forth. He’s going to do this until the popped corn pushes the lid right up off the pan.
Somebody pulls out the photo album with picture of Gramps as a small child. One of the older boys laughs. “Look! Gramps is wearing a dress!”
Our aunt shushes him. “Please don’t say things like that when your grandfather is just in the next room.”
We open presents and eat food, and somebody brings Gramps his violin. When he was young, he played the fiddle in local dance halls, and his favorite song was In the Shade of the Old Apple Tree. He’s pretty rusty, but if you already know the melody, you can sort of tell that’s what he’s trying to play.
As the evening winds down, people get their coats and say goodbye. Mom clears the table, Dad whistles as he puts wrapping paper in the trash. I can feel my eyes getting really droopy.
Tomorrow I’ll play with my new Barbie doll, but tonight I’ll sleep and dream of cousins and candles and Aunt Esther’s magnificent date bars.
The Details
I’ve always remembered how those Christmas Eves felt, but over the years the details became fuzzy. So when I wanted to tell this story, I asked my cousins. The result was long text message full of memories.
Three things helped me with the details:
I asked more than one person. Each had different memories, and they fit together like puzzle pieces.
After struggling to make sure every little detail was correct, I realized that this story was about the way the evening felt, not the specific details, so there is not need to stress over whether the jello was green or red.
I looked at pictures while I was asking questions. Pictures spark memories, if you have them. We almost didn’t!
That was one of the last Christmas Eves I remember before Gramps started setting photos on fire. His mind began to slip away, and I guess this just seemed like a good idea.
Where did he get the matches, anyway? I’m not sure, but Mom had to sneak into his room when he was out and round up all the photos and matches.
I still remember the time he found a stray photo and improvised with the stove. He turned the burner on high and held the photo right up against it.
Great job with the family heirlooms, Gramps. Mom was thrilled.
I like remembering Gramps before that, back when he made the popcorn. The detail all of the cousins remember most is his popcorn pan. It was always there in his kitchen on special occasions.
What does your family remember? Did you have a holiday object that was always in the room?
Merry Christmas, and I’ll see you again soon.