Christmastime with Momma: Remembering ‘Our’ Favorite Things

The last time my mother and I celebrated Christmas together was December 2018 – the same year that we had spent goo-gobs of money for a 90th birthday party a few months earlier for Momma – the matriarch of our family. (She died July 4, 2019). I knew my mother was not well but she refused to give in or give up – at least not at Christmastime. She had grown accustomed to donning the role of Mrs. Claus, Glenda the Good Witch of the North and the Virgin Mary all rolled into one and I believe she wanted to wear her crown one more time before God called her home. And she did!

So, in the tradition that she had established and which our family had followed since the early 60s, we put up a live tree in the living room during the week of Thanksgiving and began to hang Christmas cards on every wall that wasn’t already covered by family photographs, paintings or ornaments from years gone by.

We strung lights on the tree and everywhere else – from the front door of our condominium, through the living and dining rooms to the enclosed balcony.

There were elves and red-nosed reindeer, angels and black Santas, doves and turtledoves and the entire Peanuts clan – Charlie Brown, Lucy, Linus, Sally, Schroeder, Pig Pen, Peppermint Patti and of course, Snoopy. They were everywhere and sometimes, because of Momma’s beloved collection of figurines from the Nutcracker, it looked and felt like the front window of a toy store.

But what I remember most is the music – the songs of the season – that my mother loved so much and sang with such vibrancy and joy. We weren’t the von Trapps (the Austrian family on which the musical, “The Sound of Music” is based) but you couldn’t tell Momma that.

At her request and out of necessity, I had replaced every Christmas album we owned – about five dozen, believe it or not – with CDs. Naturally, the music never stopped and Momma – well, she never stopped singing. And of course, I sang along with her – we all did. And we knew every word, every note – and each song conjured up special memories from the past that we never grew tired of recalling and reliving.

And so, there were visions and versions of songs by Nat King Cole, Julie Andrews, Barbra Streisand, The Jackson Five, The Temptations, Burl Ives, and every song that Johnny Mathis had ever recorded. Yes, I managed to sneak in a few newer recordings, especially Kirk Franklin, Luther Vandross, Mariah Carey and Whitney Houston – it was a veritable smorgasbord of delightful ditties.

Sometimes, when I’m all alone and feeling really sad, missing Momma and missing those days – missing the big family dinners that she prepared with such love – missing the way she always knew what I wanted most for Christmas – I can’t help but wish I could go back in time – to sing and dance with my Mother, one more time.

That’s when the tears begin to flow. But they aren’t tears of sorrow. Not at all. The tears serve as a healthy reminder of how good God has been to me, to Momma, to our family. And how good God continues to be to the next generations – grandchildren and great-grands – even those who have yet to be born. And we are still a singing family.

These are a few of my favorite things.