Tonight my brother and I are planning on marking a relatively new holiday tradition – sharing a sundae at Sammy Fariello’s – our childhood haunt in Amsterdam, NY. Back when we were kids, it was baseball cards, Big League Chew, and root-beer-flavored hard candy. These days it’s turkey joints, sundaes, and my niece and/or nephew. As much as things change, they also stay the same. This is only the third year of our tradition, but they have to start somewhere. In their infancy, they also seem less onerous, less a case of drudgery and more a case of wanting to do them, to share the season with a loved one.
Category Archives: Holiday
20
December
2012
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December
2012
15
December
2012
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December
2012
I Sat On This Santa Before (But We Were Naked)
You’re never too old (or big) for Santa’s lap. In this never-before-seen shot of what was once a Holiday Card contender, this is me sitting on the lap of a very special Santa – my husband Andy. Yes, back in the day I somehow cajoled him into appearing in a possible Christmas Card decked out in full-on Santa Drag. I’m not sure why it was never used (he likely didn’t sign the release), or what monstrosity replaced it (there are a few sordid options here and there and everywhere), but it’s being posted now because I’m feeling the Christmas spirit. (I’m also just glad that the wretched door seen in the background has been replaced. Some things are worth celebrating over and over and over…)
15
December
2012
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December
2012
Tis the Season
Before the snow arrives, as we approach the shortest and darkest day of the year, we invite our friends old and new over to celebrate the season.
Christmas is forever, not for just one day,
for loving, sharing, giving, are not to put away
like bells and lights and tinsel, in some box upon a shelf.
The good you do for others is good you do yourself…
– Norman Wesley Brooks
13
December
2012
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December
2012
Our Office Christmas Party
I am woefully aware that I missed out on the golden age of office holiday parties – those wild and carefree days when you could smoke, drink, and make sexual advances while under the influence of said smoke and drink, and all would be forgiven and forgotten by the next Monday morning. It was the ultimate representation of ‘What happens at the office Christmas party stays at the office Christmas party’. Sadly, those days are done, and there is so much political correctness at the office parties I’ve attended that there is no more room for indecent fun and debauchery. They have been watered down to sanitized versions of their former glory, with no room for outrageousness, and no hope for excitement. I never got to experience the wicked ways of the past, (and I hold little to no hope of having it happen at today’s office party), so I’ll pop in the Christmas episode of ‘Mad Men’ – the one where Joan leads a feisty conga line – and dream of the sugarplums of the 60’s, back when life was quaint, and you could bribe Santa with a nip.
12
December
2012
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December
2012
You Put One Foot in Front of the Other
I never realized that Fred Astaire was the voice behind ‘Santa Claus is Comin’ to Town’, which is currently playing in our den. (And who the hell knew that Mickey Rooney played Kris Kringle??) And does anyone call this room a ‘den’ anymore? Forgive me, a trifling of a cold has got me slightly down and delirious, just at the most inopportune moment, but I am determined to lick it quickly and decisively.
It turns out that Burl Ives, Fred Astaire and Boris Karloff formed some of my most happy Christmas memories. I wonder if the stop-motion style of these stories casts the same spell over today’s kids. Incidentally, my favorite song from all of these Christmas specials is in this one – ‘Put One Foot in Front of the Other’ – which I love as much for the tune as for its moment of misunderstood-bad-guy-transformation.
12
December
2012
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December
2012
Our Christmas Tree
This is our Christmas tree for 2012. It’s usually done with colored lights, but I begged and pleaded that Andy let us do it in white lights to match the rest of the decorations this year. Before he had a chance to answer, I strung it myself. It’s easier to ask forgiveness than to ask permission. Personally, I think it’s just as lovely, and much brighter than usual. Next year he can go back to the full-color version since the tree is usually his thing.
While trimming the tree used to be my favorite thing to do, since I grew up, I stopped bothering with it. I’m not sure why. Sometimes the things we think will be the last to go are the first to be forgotten. When I lived in Boston I never had a Christmas tree, not even a tiny Charlie Brown version – it just seemed like too much work for such a small thing.
If I were to end up in Boston again, I would most definitely get a tree for the holidays. In fact, the last time I was in town I was tempted to get one for the condo just for the scant weekends I’d be there this month. (Kira rightly argued against it.)
No matter what else is going on in the world, waking to the smell of a fresh Christmas tree in the living room will always make things just a little better. That’s something that will never go away.
10
December
2012
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December
2012
A Children’s Festival
My alternate title for this post, in honor of all those who so deeply despise profanity, was “What in the fuck am I doing here?” We’ll go with ‘A Children’s Festival’ though to appease the seasonal do-gooders. This past weekend I accompanied my parents as they took Noah and Emi to the Festival of Trees at the Century Club in Amsterdam. Saturday was their children’s day, so I found myself surrounded by kids, crafts, and an underweight Santa Claus.
I will say that they certainly decked the place out nicely, and the kids enjoyed every moment (perhaps a bit too much – there was slightly more galloping and running away than I would have liked… Fun Uncle has his limits).
Luckily everyone had their kids too, so if there were any dirty stares and glares, they were probably coming from me.
That said, my niece and nephew are still the best, and when given a crayon or some glue, they know what to do.
The big moment, of course, was the arrival of Santa. Noah was brave enough to sit on his lap again this year, but Emi was not quite ready. Maybe next year…
09
December
2012
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December
2012
XXXmas Porny Santas (Uncensored)
It’s just a matter of time before Andrew Christian just does a hard-core porn film in support of his underwear line. And I can’t wait. Here’s his holiday promo:
Hunky Santas: The Holiday Card (Uncensored) from Andrew Christian on Vimeo.
09
December
2012
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December
2012
An Orange-Clove Votive
As described by the Beekman Boys here. Sometimes a Sunday morning in December needs to be a little quieter, without all the words.
04
December
2012
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December
2012
There’s Always Tomorrow
In an effort to stave off burn-out from burning the candle at both ends, I am taking it easy tonight with a showing of ‘Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer’. All of those holiday classics take me back to R.J. McNulty School, to the day before Christmas vacation. We were ushered into the cafeteria where we would sit down for a viewing of holiday films – the stop-motion animated ones, the religious ones (before the holidays went all non-denominational), the silly ones and the serious ones – and it was our final celebratory time together before vacation. On those days I was always torn – thrilled at the prospect of getting out of school, but suddenly slightly dismayed at the prospect of leaving my school mates – those who had become friends over such formative years.
The films played on an ancient projector, and every once in a while one would need to be taped back together, the break a chance to talk and gossip and wait for some rowdy kid to be sent back to class. We had memorized them all by sixth grade, but even as we were on the cusp of becoming too cool and jaded for such childishness, we embraced their sentimentality – and for our last year in grade school I think we all clung a little tighter to that day of holiday fare. I distinctly remember being near the back of the large room with my class, a couple of the boys sitting on the tables in front of the wall, our legs swinging over the edge, and looking at the dim sea of kids and faces that would never be all together in that room again, watching these Christmas movies for the final time. I felt at once separate and a part of something – a feeling that’s occurred too-few times since then. As mean and bitchy as I was, even back then, I still recognized the import of that moment, the fleetingness of it, and I already mourned how quickly it was coming to an end. We were saying good-bye to our childhoods. The songs of Christmas, on that day at McNulty School, changed into songs of sadness for me ~ ‘Silent Night’, ‘The First Noel’, ‘O Holy Night’ ~ songs that signified a simpler time, a happier time, a time that was over.
When I went away to college, many years after the sixth grade, I thought of going back to McNulty, of slipping into the cafeteria and seeing if they still played those films. I never did, but every year when I see ‘Rudolph’ on television, I think back to those days, and it makes me both sad that they are gone, and glad that they once were.
04
December
2012
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December
2012
Holiday Stroll
This year I’ve given into the feel-good joy that most people experience at Christmastime. Usually I try to Grinch out until the last possible moment, but that becomes its own onerous effort after a while, and sometimes it’s easier to give in and go with the flow. As such, I set aside last weekend for our Boston Holiday stroll, when Kira and I take a long walk through the city, stopping at various places for food and drink, doing a little holiday shopping, and taking part in the festive merriment that marks the season.
There is no set schedule, no tight time table, and not even a rough idea of where we’ll go or end up. I’m not usually comfortable with that (being a Virgo through and through), but with Kira, and at this time of the year, it’s all right. In fact, it’s welcome.
There are enough schedules to keep, enough structured events and specially-coordinated outfits to wear in the coming weeks. This was a time to keep it all casual and fun, and like so many of our best times it went completely unplanned.
By the time dusk descended, the snow had stopped. Christmas decorations were all around, and store windows glowed in the gathering darkness, their lights spilling out onto the sidewalks.
At the end of a cold day, and the start of a long night, an old-fashioned by the fire is one of the coziest notions. It warms the heart and the hearth, and cures whatever coldness lingers within.
The glow of the holidays is upon us.
04
December
2012
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December
2012
Winter Wonderland
It must have started snowing at the break of dawn, for by the time we awoke there was already a pristine white dusting on the cars and streets. Looking out of the window, I could see that this was the perfect snowfall – slow, calm, windless, and peaceful – more picturesque than powerful. Ideal for a holiday walk through the city of Boston. Bundled up in scarves and hats, Kira and I stepped outside. I had a loose idea of where we were headed, and the first stop was a quick stroll through the Boston Public Garden.
Most of the time I’ve spent in the Public Garden has been during the sunnier months, and on the sunnier days. It is decidedly less magical in the pouring rain and blowing wind. On this morning, however, conditions were holiday-postcard-worthy. A little snowfall lends a lot of enchantment, and on this barely-snowy day it was a treat to see the Garden in its pre-winter light.
There’s something about snowfall and willow trees that speaks to the heart of beauty. With or without leaves.
The gnarled trunks of elderly trees give off an other-worldly glow, their architecture highlighted by the bright layer of snow. The pond, not yet drained or frozen over, still provides a home to various waterfowl. We are never quite alone in the Garden.
At the edge of the pond, where the three states of water meet and co-mingle, a reflection of the city I so love.
This is the sort of snowfall that I like best, and even Kira, in her sockless flats, admits it makes a beautiful scene. We huddle close and traipse along the winding path that will lead us to Charles Street, to a Tibetan store that I know carries the warmest pairs of woolen gloves and mittens (because it must get frigid in Tibet).
As we exit the iron gates of the Garden and cross the street to Beacon Hill, it feels like we’ve gone back to two turns of the century ago. I just wish I’d thought to bring my bustle.
01
December
2012
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December
2012
Christmas Magic
How many magical Christmas moments are spent in the doorway, greeting friends and family, watching and waving as they leave, or eagerly awaiting their arrival? The transitory aspect of the season finds metaphoric meaning in the portals from one world or room to another – from the outside to the inside, from the kitchen to the living room, from the cold to the warm – and we are just the vessels that bring a singular view to each space. At this time of the year, making such space pretty, adorning it with garland and lights, and framing and highlighting those entry-ways are the methods we welcome those we love into our little worlds.
24
November
2012
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November
2012
Holiday, Decoration, Come Together in Every Nation
On Black Friday, I spent the day inside my home, dragging up the Christmas decorations from the basement (while Andy found our stockings in the attic). Last year, for our Naughty or Nice party, I eschewed all holiday decorations, and it was a welcome break. This year, we’re back in the Christmas spirit, and I made decent headway on the seasonal preparations, completing two of the rooms we traditionally decorate, and cleaning quite a bit more. Today the work continues, right on track and according to schedule. It makes the Virgo in me calm, and the little boy that loved Christmas giddy.
Coming up on the website later today is the start of the countdown to this year’s Holiday Card, so stay tuned…
16
November
2012
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November
2012
Over the River & Through the Woods
Over the river and through the woods
To grandmother’s house we go
The horse knows the way to carry the sleigh
Through the white and drifting snow
Over the river and through the woods
Oh how the wind does blow
It stings the nose and bites the toes
As over the ground we go…
On those lucky days when we picked up my Grandma from Hoosick Falls for Thanksgiving week, this is one of the songs we would sing on the long ride there. Though we were riding in a big-ass station wagon instead of a horse-drawn sleigh, the sentiment and the goal were the same. Most times, though, we were in school when Mom made the trip to Hoosick Falls, so on the last day before Thanksgiving vacation, we’d get home and run into the kitchen to find Gram, where she was usually at work cleaning or cooking. We’d rush into her arms, give her a big hug, and suddenly everything was right with the world. As much as I cherished my solitude, it was always a thrill to have a larger family in the house over the holidays, and Gram occupied a special place in my heart.
Sometimes she was the only one who seemed to understand me – who “got” me more than my parents or brother ever could. It was a lifeline for a child who never quite fit in. My brother and I would listen to her stories before we had to go bed, hoping our parents would give us just a few extra minutes with the stories she told us – from the tales of Peter Rabbit to the glory days of Greta Garbo. In a lot of ways, and this is something I’ve only recently realized, Gram was my first connection to the gay world – to the touchstone cultural points of Hollywood glamour or the way she favored the most sparkling jewelry (even her rosary was made of crystals in a delicate shade of Tiffany blue). I felt an early affinity with those things that I didn’t feel with football or cars, but I didn’t know enough to explore them more. My fascination lived only in the few days that Gram was over during a year.
I think she sensed a kindred shyness in me too, one that she never mistook for arrogance or aloofness. When others would call me mean, she would defend me as being different. Through it all, her love for me never waned or wavered. There would come many points in my life when I felt unloved, and at the darkest moments I would always think, “No matter what I’ve done, and no matter what has happened, my grandmother will still love me.” Even the most flawed among us should be so lucky to have such a grandmother. Everyone deserves that. It’s been a few years since she passed away, but every year around this time when the family gathers for Thanksgiving, I walk into my parents’ home, I remember that moment, and I still walk into the kitchen expecting – hoping, wishing – for her to be there.
