Memories of Childhood Christmas

So in the mid to late 60s, it was still somewhat of a rarity -- especially in the working class suburb where I grew up --my sister married a non Jew. It wasn't a big deal to my parents --especially my Dad, as he was pretty anti religion, although proud of his Jewish heritage. My Mom's fear was that Dennis, like the Irish husbands she knew of through friends, might drink too much...supposedly Mom said to him something like "Welcome to the family...but if you ever drink too much and hit my daughter, I'll get you!" I'm not sure whether she actually said this, but it would be vintage Sunny. She gave me her wedding ring to give to Wifey on our engagement, and when Wifey proudly showed it to Mom, she said "Oh --it looks beautiful on your hand. Wear it forever in good health. But if you ever divorce my son, the ring comes back to me!" That was Mom -- sweetness, but tough on the inside to the point of stubborness... Anyway, so with Dennis came Christmas at his parents' house. I remember the beautiful tree and lights, and everyone drinking and smoking -- a lot! And I was friends with Michael and Kathy, and we ran around together, happily. And then came the exhange of gifts -- and since Kathy and Michael were the youngest, there were a TON. There was always a small one for me, but those two raked them in. I remember complaining to my Mom, and she said "You are NOT deprived! You get toys all year -- just not on one silly holiday." I understood, but still -- when an 8 or 9 year old sits on the sideline while his compatriots are opening train sets, and baseball games, and even, one year, an electric car -- well... Looking back, I think it may have set me on a course where ultimately I didn't care much for material gifts, to the point where our Chanukah "gift exchange" is very moderate... But mostly I remember the times happily. Dennis had favorite family friends -- Betty and Bill -- and sometimes we'd go to their Levitt house. I remember one year Michael got a new baseball glove, and he and I went out into the freezing night to have me pitch to him so he could break it in. For some reason I remember how freezing the weather was -- snow crackling under our feet. After Christmas, of course , comes New Year's Eve. As a kid, my parents went out, and I stayed home with a sitter. I remember staying up late to watch Johnny Carson, and his show featured different kinds of flasks where you could hide booze. I watched and thought there was nothing more urbane than going to an event and sneaking a drink through an umbrella that was truly a flask... The last New Years we lived in NY was 78 going into 79. Since we were moving that Spring, my parents threw a party for their friends and neighbors -- catered by Kwong Ming, our go to Chinese place. My friends and I sat downstairs in the playroom munching on egg rolls and ribs, and then left, fake IDs in hand, for some grown up activities. I seem to recall we went to a local bar called Tabard Ale House, followed by ringing in the new year in my friend Mark's upstairs room -- a converted Levitt House attic where his parents rarely ventured... This year is my first as an orphan -- Sunny is gone now. We're heading out to celebrate Wifey's birthday with a movie and then Tropical Chinese. There will be the yearly minyan there -- Jews eating Chinese food on Christmas is now as common a cliche as kissing under the mistletoe... The memories are nice, though, especially since they're so warm and loving.