Featured, November, 2012
Carol A. Hanzl Birkas resides in Bethlehem, (The Christmas City) PA with her husband, Gene. She has written a few articles for both newspapers and magazines. Her most gratifying accomplishment is a children’s Christmas storybook
entitled CHRISTMAS TREENA, which is beautifully illustrated by her daughter, Stacy Birkas Shultz.
She was deeply honored when the Bethlehem Writers’ Group requested that she write a story for their anthology, A CHRISTMAS SAMPLER: SWEET, FUNNY, AND STRANGE HOLIDAY TALES. Thus, "Visions of Sugarplum Grandmothers" was born. It is a story from the heart, and one she is most proud of. Carol will have another story in the Bethlehem Writers’ Group’s upcoming anthology, ONCE AROUND THE SUN: SWEET, FUNNY, AND STRANGE TALES FOR ALL SEASONS.
Visions of Sugarplum Grandmothers
Carol A. Hanzl Birkas
“Tiny little Baby, tiny little Baby, tiny little Baby born in Beth-le-hem.”
My thirteen-year-old granddaughter was practicing for an upcoming Christmas pageant. She was performing her own concert, reggae style, for me over the telephone. Performing for Gramma has always been one of her favorite things to do, and her “shows” have been the highlight of many a day for me. We have a special bond, my Jessi and I.
Christmas season, 2008, was upon us, and she was quite caught up in it. Christmas in our family is a magical time. Our tree goes up the day after Thanksgiving, and we don’t take it down until well into January. During that glorious interlude, Christmas lives in our hearts and in our homes.
The “Tiny Little Baby” song takes me back in time to another Christmas and a different tiny little baby. It was Jessi’s first Christmas, and it was the first Christmas that I celebrated as a grandmother. I remember it well. . . .
***
I was sitting in my rocking chair with my precious three-month old granddaughter in my arms. She was spending the night at Gramma’s, and I was in my glory. The setting was perfect. The spice-scented candles burning on the mantle and the warm glow of the Christmas tree lights lent the only illumination to the room. Christmas music was turned down low, and I softly sang along as I rocked my baby. Her big, brown eyes were wide open, and as I gazed into them in wonder, they stared intently right back at me. A feeling of pure contentment came over me. My heart was filled to overflowing with love for this child, and, as I studied her little face, I was positive that she was getting as much out of this as I was.
We sat there for a long time that way. As I rocked her, I started to think about my own grandmothers. Were they anywhere near as enchanted with me as I was with this tiny being? Did they ever hold me like this? I was sure they must have. I know they loved me, and I loved them dearly, but I could not remember ever having this kind of connection with either of them. I had childhood friends who were extremely close to their grandmothers. I envied them in secret for having this special relationship. My own children were very fortunate. They were blessed with grandmothers on both sides who were absolutely perfect.
Reflecting on this, I began feeling sorry for the little girl that I was. I really missed out on a lot, I thought, and, as I lowered my eyes to my now sleeping bundle, I remember thinking quite smugly, Oh, but so did they!
As I sat there, rocking and licking my wounds while staring absently into the lights on the tree, one of the lights seemed to flicker a little more brightly than the rest. Startled, I watched as it glowed even brighter, and then took on a life of its own as it detached itself from the tree. I stared in amazement as a Sugarplum Fairy ornament floated across the room and perched herself delicately upon my knee, right above Jessi’s head.
“I am the spirit of your Mom-mom.” She spoke gently in my Mom-mom’s voice. “I hear what you are thinking, and I came to tell you that I did love you very much. And, yes, I did sit with you, many times, that exact same way. You cannot possibly remember; you were much too young. I want you to know that when we were together, every moment was special to me, and when you were not with me physically, you were always in my heart. I wish so much that I could have conveyed this to you back then. My life was so different from yours; it was a lot more complex.
“You see dear, you were my fourth grandchild--not my first. Now that does not mean that I loved you any less. It simply means that I was spread a lot more thin. I did not have the luxury at that time of being able to cultivate a single flower, so to speak. You are fortunate to be in a position that enables you to do just that. I had a garden of little flowers by the time you came along, and I loved them all. I nurtured them in the best way I knew how. Unfortunately, dear, in my beautiful garden, there were some ugly, overpowering weeds. There was one in particular that, no matter how I tried, I could not eradicate. These weeds grew so tall and so thick that, eventually, I was not able to enjoy my flowers because the weeds kept getting in the way.”
It was at that moment that a second fairy chose to make her entrance. She glided daintily from the tree to alight on my knee, right next to her counterpart.
“What she is trying to say,” this new fairy explained, in a voice so like my other grandmother’s, “is that along with the joy of the blessings that you children were, there was also a very deep sorrow that enveloped the entire family. I know that you know what I’m getting at, and, that as an adult you can fully understand, but the child that you were could not, and she became lost in the shuffle. You were only five when your father was taken from you, and when your Mom-mom lost her son.”
She gently placed a wing on my Mom-mom’s shoulder, and then she continued. “I know that losing your dad at such a young age was traumatic for you. I can see and feel the sadness that is still with you today because of it. But you were too little to understand just how devastating his death was to all of us who shared in his life. That he was no longer with us was excruciating. He was so deeply loved and so sorely missed. We were there, honey, as much as we could be. And as much as you needed us, we needed you more. Just holding one of you in our arms could momentarily ease some of the pain. You were, indeed, our medicine.”
“So you see, dear, our lives were a lot more complicated.” It was Mom-mom again. “As I mentioned earlier, you were my fourth grandchild and your father’s second daughter in as many years. Two more siblings entered your life and ours, so that by the time he was taken from us, he left four babies behind under the age of six. It broke our hearts every time we looked at you, knowing that you would have to grow up without him.”
“And there were a lot of you,” interjected Grandma. “Can you imagine having four of her at one time?” she exclaimed, laying her miniature hand on Jessi’s forehead. There was not a lot of individual attention to go around, but we did our best.”
“And we didn’t drive,” lamented Mom-mom. “We had to depend on our men folk to bring us to see you. Unfortunately, your grandfather could not come to grips with losing your father. When your dear mother brought you to visit, he would put on a happy face for your benefit, but after you left, he would cry his heart out. Because he was raised with the belief that men don’t cry, it was easier on his manhood to just not come around so much. That’s why I was not able to see you as much as I would have liked to.”
“So you see, honey,” said Grandma, “the connection to us that you have been longing for all this time has always been there. You just were not able to see it from our perspective, so we came to enlighten you and to erase any doubt.”
I was stunned. I could not believe what I was hearing—and seeing. The thought that my grandmothers cared enough about me that they would come to me spiritually was mind-boggling. The tears were flowing freely as the impact of their powerful message began to filter through. I could actually feel a change taking place inside me, like a caterpillar shucking its cocoon and blossoming into a butterfly. My inner child was no longer confused. Thanks to the liberating tidings of comfort from my Sugarplum Grandmothers, she was now set free, able to move forward and mesh with the adult, transforming me into a more serene, secure, and content human being.
My little visitors were both smiling up at me with tears glistening in their eyes. They had succeeded in their mission, and I knew that our precious time together was coming to an end. No words were needed; we were connected, all three of us. We were one in heart, mind and spirit. They fluttered their wings, flew first to kiss Jessi’s cheeks, and then my own, and then with a poof, and a puff of fairy dust, they were back on the tree.
***
I blink my eyes, and the memory fades.
It is, again, 2008. My granddaughter will be calling shortly to give her final telephone performance before her big day tomorrow. An idea pops into my head, and as I hasten to prepare, I quickly light the candles on the mantle and flip the switch, bringing the Christmas tree to life. I position my Sugarplum Fairies just right. The phone will be on speaker so that they will be able to share in my exclusive recital. I sit in my rocking chair. The phone rings, and as I answer it, I notice an ever-so-slight movement coming from the direction of the Christmas tree. I look up just in time to catch one of the fairies fluffing her wings and the other one winking at me. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought I imagined it.
The Top
Ten . . .
Christmas
Memories
by
Carol Birkas
November, 2012
10. St. Nicholas Day. Celebrating it on December 6th is a tradition passed down from my Austrian ancestors, and it gives our Christmas a kick-start. This is when our children hang their Christmas stockings, and St. Nick stuffs them full of Christmas treasures.
9. Christmas attire. When I was 16, I received olive green corduroy jeans and a cranberry sweater set. I didn’t get much else; we couldn’t afford it, but when I wore that outfit on Christmas night to go roller skating with my boyfriend, I felt like a million bucks.
8. One mid-December our firstborn was 19 months old and very ill with whooping cough. Her only request for Christmas was a Fisher Price dollhouse. Her daddy felt so sorry for her that he gave her that dollhouse upon our return from the doctor’s office.
7. The Christmas our son was 5, he received The Lone Ranger and Tonto figures, along with their horses, Silver and Scout. Santa also brought him a cowboy outfit, complete with hat and boots. He’s long since outgrown those items, but he remains a devoted cowboy fan to this day….Dallas Cowboys, that is.
6. Our youngest daughter was born on December 21st. She was my best gift that year, and, if you’ve never experienced the added joy that a newborn can bring to Christmas, you must listen to the song “The Best Gift” by Barbara Streisand. I could have written that song!
5. Let me not forget Cabbage Patch Christmas. My 12-year-old daughter and I stood in line from 4:30 a.m. until the toy store opened, hoping to get our hands on the most sought after toy of the season. We were lucky. She and her 5 year old sister were able to ‘adopt a kid’ on Christmas morning.
4. The year my Sugarplum Grandmothers (feature story) came to visit I just happened to find dainty little fruit-etched juice glasses, exactly like the ones my Mom-mom gave me orangeade in when I was little. I ask you, was this just coincidence, or were my Sugarplum Grandmothers at it again?
3. I laugh when I recall the year my two youngest grandchildren were in diapers. Between them and a very active 5-year-old, my living room looked like a disaster area after all the presents were opened. I had to be careful not to throw a baby away with the wrapping paper.
2. Christmas Eve rituals—After their baths, Christmas pajamas magically appeared on my children’s beds. Bedtime snack was cut-out cookies and milk. I loved watching their faces as little hands flew cut-out Santas and sleighs through the air before popping them into their mouths. They would fall asleep listening for reindeer and sleigh bells.
1. Christmas, 2009 brought me much satisfaction and pride for two reasons. #1 “A Christmas Sampler”, our first anthology, was hot off the press. #2.I finalized production of my long awaited children’s Christmas storybook, “Christmas Treena."