Christmas Memories of Mobile

Reindeers, Revelry and Reminiscences
By
Debbie Lindsey

Lois Turner made the best chicken salad sandwiches…ever. And don’t get me started on her mom’s divinity and fudge. The pleasure these snacks bestowed upon my taste buds has never left me, especially on Christmas day. For it was that day when Phil and Veronica, my parents, took me to visit Lois and beaucoup other friends and family – the ones with lots of food and drink and fabulous decorations.
The only thing better than being a kid surrounded by cool adults that fed your self-esteem as well as your sweet tooth was the decorations. Aunt Dale and Uncle Frank had that crazy aluminum tree with the revolving lights that flashed different colors to the reflecting tacky branches. I thought anything but a real, true, once living, sap dripping tree was sick and wrong…but I still somehow loved the gaudy light show. (Would pay good money today for one of those “retro” hip trees.)
While their kitchen had no appreciable Christmas kitsch, its warm bright lights and even warmer oven filled with cheese straws crisping and salty pecans toasting could stand up to any spruce garland or neon Santa. And the smell of Old Grand Dad bourbon every time you were hugged will always remain with me as “Christmas”. And when old enough to replace my Shirley Temple with something stronger, I would toast Old Grand Dad with Coca-Cola and juice squeezed from a well-kneaded lemon just like Uncle Frank.
Aunt Sissy may not have served strong spirits but her ambrosia was certainly nectar to the teetotaler. At Sissy’s home holiday embellishments took on a more sophisticated manner. It would be some years before I would travel to New York but Aunt Sissy’s place just screamed subtle chic. Crystal bowls encased teal blue Christmas balls and antique ivory-toned Lucite reindeers pranced throughout fresh pine needles on her mantle. I cannot remember if the hearth beneath was lit by gas or logs but it sure completed the look.
My entire adult life has been lived within apartments, but when I was a kid in Mobile, apartments seemed like something lifted from I Love Lucy. So visiting my parents’ friends, Ann and Barney, took me straight to that New York City television set. It just seemed so not suburbia. I do not remember the decorations, treats or whether we visited them on Christmas or New Years Eve but I sure remember the place bursting at the seams with adults, kids, both ornery and playful. And, as always, the kitchen was the conduit of excitement.
Speaking of New Years Eve, the best of the best parties to this day was at the Pooles’. Jewel and Fred Poole had absolutely fabulous soirees. As a kid the fabulous part was first recognized beneath the Christmas tree – they kept an array of little gifts wrapped and ready for any and all of the children who came to visit. Just when the Christmas season was mere hours away from conclusion there was still one more trinket to unwrap!
The gift of self-esteem however is remembered best.
I attribute any and all of my social skills to my parents for including me in their gadding about during the holidays. And one of the first times I remember holding court like a gown-up was there in Jewel and Fred’s living room, sitting alongside them sipping a fruit punch with my pinkie extended and feeling ever so glamorous. We know I must have been an insufferable pill but they never let on that I was anything less than the center of the universe.
“Who we gonna visit?” “We’re dressing up aren’t we?” As the years wore on the who often changed but the getting gussied up never did. Mom donned her mink regardless of the weather, and I just loved to dress up. Mom’s mink accompanied my evolution through the fads and fashions of decades. And Dad, of course, always in a suit.
My sister never really cared much for the ‘visiting’. She had her own friends and before I knew it she was married and living out of state. She and her husband would come home every Christmas but were really ready for a break from us by the time the Christmas dinner dishes hit the dishwasher. Fine by me, I didn’t have to share the treats, the attention, or Mom and Dad. We may not have been the social butterflies gracing society pages but we three moths would set forth and flit from open house to open house with purpose and utter joy.
As the years passed the size and scope of their friend’s festivities shrunk. Age took some and others, afflicted by an empty nest, downsized into smaller places. This same fate also hampered various family gatherings. But Mom, Dad and I never gave up the ghost of our tradition of barging in on folks. We sought new friends to visit and share holidays with. Until the year when the visits reversed and my parents, sister, brother-in-law and I received company. It would be my folks first and last Christmas in a nursing home.
When Phil and Veronica passed there was little reason to Christmas in Mobile – the holiday hometown commute was done. It was time to start my own traditions in New Orleans. But my source of inspiration travels back to that ancient mahogany table draped with antique lace catching bits of crumb from candies, cookies and breads. For the centerpiece there was the best chicken salad ever served up on Sunbeam bread with the crust cut off and piled high upon a crystal platter. And late December will always bring with it a strong desire to sip Old Grand Dad and coke with lemon of course. Boyfriend and I will continue in our own way the ritual of “barging in on folks” during the holidays or toasting together with our bartender and fellow holiday orphans. And when we need the fragrance of a Christmas tree or an eye full of Yuletide we visit the grand lobbies of various hotels.
My parents, Phil and Veronica, gave me many things, but the gift of Christmas and all that goes into creating the merriment of it will remain the most cherished of presents. I look for them at Christmas and visit them in memories.
Comments: Debbie@whereyat.net