Friday, December 19, 2008

Another touching Christmas memory

My father controlled his drinking. When it was time for him to stop drinking you could almost smell the brakes and hear the squealing tires. That was when the vein in his forehead would start throbbing. He was not an easygoing guy.

Christmas was one of the few times of year when he allowed himself to drink his fill. We kids would get up before sunrise and creep down the stairs to look at the presents. Shortly afterwards my parents would wake up. Mom would start the instant coffee and warm the pillsbury cinammon rolls while Dad put two ice cubes and two olives in a big tumbler. Then he would fill the glass up with gin. He called that a martini. When the rolls and coffee were ready Dad would light a cigar and take his coffee and gin into the living room. Dad would hand out the Christmas presents and we would ooohh and aaaahh over what everyone got. Dad did a pretty good job of acting jolly.

After all of the presents were opened Dad would pour himself another gin. Then he would sit down in front of the TV. He drank gin and smoked cigars with a little smile on his face. He pretty much ignored us for the rest of the day. It was OK.

Daddys Drinking Up Our Christmas - Commander Cody and His Lost Planet Airmen

1 comment:

ib said...

I hated Christmas as a kid from 11AM on. Virtually every year, we would have the relatives over for Christmas dinner, and from early afternoon the alcohol would flow freely as two by two they would arrive and commandeer the furniture. By 3PM the feuds might begin, and it was impossible to ignore the bickering from the kitchen as my parents kicked off the annual yuletide quarrel.

Jesus, I used to think. If it's such a hard act to pull off why don't they just cancel the ubiquitous family gathering ? Of course, I didn't fully understand that my mother and father really couldn't face the icy vacuum between them. It would have been even more apparent had we spent that time alone in nuclear isolation.

And, of course, all those other relatives were too astute to dream of hosting Christmas at their own place.

By 7PM every year it was like tripping out in a ward for the psychotic and criminally deranged.

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