Christmas Memories Part 3

 Christmas Young Adult Years 

1995 -2000

In January 1995 I met my eventually husband. Canadian to the core - from Toronto. 
Any cultural gaps I had been missing were about to be filled. 

Even though we had transitioned from a Third World country to a First World one seemingly filled with abundance there were still many things I had yet to experience. 

He came from a world of Christmas movies I had never heard of, Christmas brunches, snow days , mall Santas and trips "up north".  He'd told me his family was French - to my surprise from New Brunswick. 
Catholics.  To this point I honestly thought Quebec was the only way to truly be "French" in Canada ! 

To add to this new experience my man really loves Christmas ! His extravagance would flow from the heart rather than the wallet , a stark contrast between his Irish roots an my own Scottish ones.  

Adding to this was an Italian branch by marriage.

Christmas on his side was very colourful. On one side a flurry of blended families held together by some sort of Christmas magic. On the other, a whirl of English punctuated by French and Italian - fortunately being bilingual well equipped me to keep up as our own home had always blended Portuguese and English from all corners of the missionary world. 

I can remember being very awestruck at the desserts ; cakes, cookies, biscotti, nougat, and panetone. Not even so much at the range of it all but because this was the first time I can recall being encouraged to eat to excess ! Prior to this desserts in my home had been very acutely enjoyed - would you like "this" OR "that" - one cookie, one square of cake , one tablespoon of Christmas pudding I had not recalled multiple items and certainly not seconds and beyond ! 

Also, weirdly in this new world people randomly napped in chairs. IN FRONT OF OTHER PEOPLE ! I cannot remember  my parents ever so much as reclining on the sofa growing up. They were very hard workers and never seemed to really settle down.  

For extra money my husband-to-be would take on seasonal work in the malls as a Santa. His family owned an entertainment business and as such we were also blessed by impromptu magic performances  or new balloon animals and clown acts in the middle of a family visit ! 

For our first married Christmas in 1998 , my husband greatly surprised me with a brand new Christmas tree and now no matter how many needles it sheds is too precious to replace. She is now 22 years old. 

Another great memory I have is gathering around my husband's step mother's table. She was a personal chef and former restauranteur . Her meals were heightened affairs - warm candles, mimosas, and cocktails. Herb crusted roasts and light desserts such as creme brulee.  I vividly recall dainty champagne glasses with fresh raspberries that would be carried up with the bubbles. She taught  me to hold a glass by the stem so to not smudge the glass or warm the drink.  Her conversations were always kind and all inclusive.  Here we talked about celebrity gossip like they were people we knew ! She ignited a strong desire for the culinary arts which I would go on to pursue.  

I do not recall one bad Christmas memory between 1995 and 2000.   

Christmas The Middle Years 
1987 - 1995

The next season of life I'll block off as our return to Canada from Brazil in 1986 until 1995.  Years which marked the second half of my childhood but very much a whole new world. I officially transitioned from being  a Missionary Kid to what I now know to be a "third culture kid". 

Although I do have a lot of memories of this era, I can't really say that they all radiated with comfort and joy. 

Christmases now seemed to arrive with a higher expectation and as it's bound to happen never failed to disappoint. "Things" seemed to be a big focus and so did the comparison game with friends. not that I was ever in true need , or that I even ever felt deprived - but our Christmas haul suddenly seemed to lack luster compared with the abundance of this new First World nation. 

The exception to the rule had to be my father's over the top gifts to my mother, which I can only imagine at the time was intended to impress her greatly ! He overplayed.  One year it was a full drum set - another a very expensive doll house . Bless him, he was a giver but it failed to speak her love language. 

More often than we would probably want to confess the festivities would come to an abrupt halt and be soured by an angry outburst or fight.   Perhaps it was the addition of teenager daughters or just the overwhelming life change for us all. 

Most of the extended family was still in Montreal so although we might venture some visiting through the season , Christmas day itself didn't change for us.  We did however, continue to practice hospitality to friends and even practical strangers who would otherwise have been alone. 

Of course  Nanny and Papa did come spend Christmas with us , or we'd join them. Nanny would bake "melt in your mouth" shortbread. Decorated with barely a twelfth of a maraschino cherry - a nod to our Scottish roots.  From that time on it was always turkey , stuffing, potatoes , and gravy, and sweet jarred pickles. 

My mother seemed to always try some whipped topping and jello type dessert from a magazine - mercifully she eventually settled on a rather "instant " version of trifle.... more whipped topping but at least the jello was now set in the cake layer. 

Another dessert that I found both intriguing and delightful was that Nanny would have a small Christmas pudding. Store bought , however even though she had a microwave (high end technology let me tell you) , this was always steamed . Years later in culinary school I learned that the technique she was using is a "bain marie" - very chic.   
Traditionally this would be served with a rum sauce but they were strict Pentecostals. In fact any liquor that Papa would receive as a gift would be poured immediately down the drain ! Instead, it was served with a warm English custard.  

The rest of our seasonal festivities now included school concerts, church cantadas  and piano recitals. 
This was also the unfortunate era of tacky decor - plastic trees with tinsel and angel hair that would hurt your skin and kill your pets.  Spray snow for windows and all manner of ghastly looking angels ! 

 Christmas Memories
The Early Years
1976-1986

I have a terrible memory that only returns to me in small pieces, often at the worst time. 

I spent my first nine years as a "Missionary Kid" in Brazil between 1977 and 1986. So, even compared to Canada in the same era, it was a different world. 

My memories, if you will, are mostly passed down stories told through my mother's lens and a handful of pictures - my mother was very diligent in taking photos but in that time they were expensive to develop and the concept of digital photography had not yet been imagined. (And let's be honest this was a season where my parents were literally using chickens as currency) 

 I suppose those early Christmas years were happy ones in spite of the fact that we did not spend it with our extended family. Nor did we have much - my sister has memories of receiving balloons for Christmas.   And there was, of course, no snowy -white , Hallmark movie backdrop in the tropics of South America. 

 

I remember one year, perhaps my only authentic  early childhood Christmas memory - I had,... found... a hula hoop hidden under my parent's bed. That , I recall, had been a very exciting thing to receive! 

Of course I faintly recall children's Sunday School Christmas performances with singing - and gifts wrapped not in regular paper but some sort of hard to fold, metallic cellophane-like material. 

We would always unwrap very carefully and fold our paper wrapping - especially the coveted larger pieces for another year and I do not recall doing differently until I was well into my teens.  

Every year we would receive Christmas cards through the mail from our native land, Canada. Full of colour, winter scenes and sparkles. Sometimes the cards were even indented with textures that outlined the pictures.  After Christmas my mother would ceremoniously bring out the good pinking sheers from her sewing box.  Then carefully, and what I perceived to be very skillfully , she would cut out the pictures whose backsides contained no writing and those would saved to be used the following year as the gift tags. 

I can recall singing at least one traditional carol as to this day , from time to time, I'll be humming away "Noite de paz.... noite de amor..... " to the tune of Silent Night.