A “fractured family” Christmas Memory
Getting Doug’s memories made me pause and remember Christmas of the past. First of all, I was so lucky to have a sister who was in charge of everything and everybody…..or so it seemed at the time. I think we were living proof of a family whose parents were divorced and each parent got their private time with their kids and grandkids thanks to the schedule set forth by Marsha. I called Mom when we awoke and the time she took to have a pot of coffee, put on her make up and fix her hair gave us private time with the kids before she arrived with her presents; the same thing was happening down the road at the Websters; about 10 a.m. the phone would ring and Marsha would say to me “Dad’s leaving, send Mom down to my house”
. Easier said then done. She knew I was trying to get rid of her and she was stubborn so she would say she would have one more cigarette and cup of coffee. I would begin to sweat. The kid’s Dad would retreat to the corner to see how it would play out and finally I would say “Mom, leave……now” She would gather up her stuff, muttering about how I was treating her and leave with a peck on my check so as not to disturb her lipstick and a “Mother, loves you”! It wouldn’t be a few minutes before the big Lincoln Continental pulled up and my Dad and his wife, Betty, emerged with packages and the second act would begin and so it went on all day. Together in segments. Cookies, coffee and candy consumed in dangerous proportions. We knew we were a fractured family, but we didn’t care. We loved each and every one of those family members and knew without a doubt how much they loved us.. Hey, my kids had more people to love them than most and the Websters were the icing on the Christmas cake.
