Alone, at the Bottom of the World (part 32)

Christmas 1973, part 1

The driveway was piled with snow, and Stuart stood mesmerized. Christmas in Nevada. My mother had invited him to share it with us that year, which meant an instant plunge into much more than just a pile of gleaming snow. He became part of an American family for a time, and never ever forgot it.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/joedsilva/5301914422/

Carson City shone in the reflective snow-light of that clear winter's day, and no one could be idle. My small sisters had helped Stuart make a new snowman, and it now sat in the yard watching as piles of great round snowballs were assembled. The girls strategized in one small group, the boys in another. Someone threw! And then all pretense of team against team fell away as snowballs flew in all directions.

We had made the drive from Oregon in Stuart's new (but old) white Ford sedan, long and skinny and gas guzzling. There was some concern about being able to get back due to the oil embargo and scarcity of gasoline. But we wouldn't worry about that now. We would instead eat enormous amounts of food, play jolly board games, and attack, on Christmas morning, the gigantic pile of presents waiting beneath the tree.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/stevewall/332832383/

There was something terrificly special about those Christmases in Nevada. Our mother made the most delicious foods, baking piles of cookies and treats of every kind, filling the house with enticing smells. The whole atmosphere shouted, 'Welcome home!' to all 11 children (a few with spouses and children of their own). And Stuart was overwhelmed by it all.

Everyone was interested in him, which to him came as a surprise. To be appreciated so; to be so instantly popular to an entire huge family; to talk late into the night, if one wished, with any number of intelligent and interesting young adults, or younger and even more interesting American girls. All of this made Stuart's first American Christmas a heartfelt success.

On Christmas Eve we all gathered in the living room, sprawling rather haphazardly in relaxed fashion. Stuart sat watching as family members performed skits, or songs, or readings. He watched our mother as she brought out cookies enough for an army, handing them round to anyone who could dare to eat another bite. We ended with the familiar and age-old strains of Silent Night, urging us on to 'Sleep in Heavenly Peace.'

Only nobody wanted it to end and few could sleep in peace, Heavenly or otherwise. There were gifts to assemble and secrets to keep! And believe it or not there was food for the hungry, as if any such thing were possible. Really. Who could think of sleeping?

It was almost midnight, but this holy Night was still young - and so were we.

(to be continued..)

See you along the way!
the SconeLady

photo credit: <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/joedsilva/5301914422/">Joe Dsilva</a> via <a href="http://photopin.com">photopin</a> <a href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/">cc</a>

photo credit: <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/stevewall/332832383/">Steve took it</a> via <a href="http://photopin.com">photopin</a> <a href="http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/">cc</a>