The Christmas That Wasn't

The Christmas That Wasn't

Most of us eight Monnahan sisters had always gathered to celebrate Christmas. For more than sixty-five years, we gathered. Our oldest sister, Jerri, had always participated marginally until later years when she became more interested.

First, for several years, laden with bundles of presents for the gift exchange, as well as food for the feast, and families in tow, the older

girls stumbled into our parents' humble home on Christmas Day.

We cracked English walnuts, Brazil nuts, almonds, and hazelnuts

into Dad's log-slice shaped nutcracker bowl. We ate ribbon candy, chocolate fudge and divinity, as well as Christmas mints and buttery caramels, nibbled on Christmas cookies, while some helped to prepare the meal.

Others chatted while standing under shining plastic green and

red Christmas bells, strung on green yarn near the ceiling between the kitchen and living room.

The tinseled Christmas tree, with a golden-haired angel atop, and exhibiting striped balls always stood in the southeast corner of the living room, next to the kitchen.

The entire house was abuzz with conversation and laughter until someone broke into an impromptu version of White Christmas

or another favorite carol. Soon, everyone joined in, while kids begged to open presents.

As mealtime approached, you would find Mike, no one called her Michaela, robbing the relish tray of pickles. And, when we sat down to dinner, she always enjoyed a friendly rivalry with brother-in-law Bud as to who could put away more mashed potatoes. She could do this without putting on a pound.

These meals always included, but were not limited to the Norwegian Christmas staple, lefse, provided by either Rosie or Sharon, and Mom's Waldorf Salad, as well as other holiday favorites anyone could think of to bring.

After Dad's death, and with Mom's failing health and an ever-burgeoning family, Christmas celebrations rotated between the married girls' homes. Each sister took her turn hosting.

This event required cleaning and decorating the house, and baking cookies and breads like a mad woman, then waiting for the onslaught of sisters, in-laws, nieces, and nephews.

At some time, the celebration began being held the second weekend of December. The year of our mother's final hospitalization and death, Sharon and Ole hosted Christmas. Due to

the size of their small home, they held the celebration in the vacated Scarville, Iowa high school building. There, some of the family played a game of basketball.

As the third generation grew up and established their families,

some of them even returned for a time. The numbers teetered at fifty. Card tables were often set up in the living room, as well as any other room in the hosting house to accommodate the many dinner guests.

Over the following years, the crowd diminished, leaving just the sisters and a straggling or transporting niece or nephew or two.

By this time, we had lost three brothers-in-law, and Mike's health issues severely limited her ability to travel. She had "downsized" from her acreage to a very efficient five-bedroom home in town. This house afforded her a laundry room, two bathrooms, two bedrooms, as well as a quilting room, living room and kitchen, all on the main floor. This provided ample seating

for our smaller crowd.

Mike's house became the new Christmas hang-out. Our meeting day reverted to Christmas Day. We reworked our menu to include oyster stew, as well as another soup, such as beef or hamburger stew, with all the trimmings.

The island between the kitchen and living room groaned with

these, as well as cheese balls, meatballs, vegetables, cheese, meat, and herring trays. The ever-present lefse, buttered and sugared or not, as well as plates of spritz, pinwheels, sugar cookies and many other plates of goodies, and Randi's crockpot of bread pudding fought for space there.

After a wolf whistle by Sharon got everyone's attention, the whole crowd, Catholics, and Protestants alike, joined in the blessing.

Then, we all dug in.

Although none of us needed it, our sisters' gift exchange became a tradition. It eventually came to include the remaining brothers-in-law, who also came to raid Mike's stash of salt-water taffy and watch football.

Our happy celebration continued, without fail. That was, until

Christmas of 2022. December of this year started getting snowy and cold near the middle of the month. At least, we didn't have the mess of a year ago, when the middle of the month a tornado tore

through this area, doing much damage. Who ever heard of a tornado in Minnesota in December?

Not this year. It was four below on December fourteenth, with several inches of snow on the ground, wind to blow it around, with

the promise of more to come.

Then the weather predictions started coming in. Forecasters started talking about a monster Christmas storm coming in from the Pacific. It would, they said, sweep across the country, causing various forms of winter misery, in the form of snow, ice, sleet, and

wind chill.

A phone call from Rosie revealed she wasn't coming to Christmas. Although she had someone to bring her, she also had a two-hundred-mile trip to get here and didn't feel up to the challenge this year. She'd made a few too many trips down here and back on icy roads, and, at eighty-six, didn't think she wanted to chance it.

The rest of us started talking about the wisdom of making the forty-some mile trip in weather such as was predicted. One by one, families chickened out, with Mike's blessing. She didn't want anyone risking their life for this.

Then, on the afternoon of Wednesday, the twenty-first, the wind came up and we came under a blizzard warning, with life- threatening wind chills. Before long, the storm was being called a

"Generational storm, " encompassing a great deal of the lower forty-eight. By Christmas Eve, the storm was raging on, with such

fierce winds and low temperatures, travel was not advised.

Most events, including church services, were cancelled.

Due to his devotion to his parishioners, our pastor offered Zoom services from his home. Although he offered wonderful sermons, something was missing, with no group hymn singing, nor candlelight service.

Even Buffalo, New York, famous for its record snowfalls, is

experiencing an historic snowfall event, with door-to-door welfare

checks revealing upwards of fifty fatalities.

Locally, both Interstate thirty-five and ninety, as well as

primary and secondary roads became impassable, while visibility reached near zero as the storm raged on. Thirty-seven people were stranded and housed in the National Guard Armory in Albert Lea.

Christmas celebrations became those of one or two people, or whomever was stuck together when the storm hit.

The Monnahan sisters would not celebrate together this year.

Phone and Facebook delivered Merry Christmas greetings.

God willing, we'll be together next year.

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