I was given three books for Christmas, the last one I received just yesterday from Sue and Mick, a wonderful Pop-up book of bird songs in stereo sound. Each page pops up, filled with a woodsy scene, lots of birds that start singing, each different, each from a different area of the page. Wonderful...I laughed out loud. Gave me a chance to remember when I was in second grade in Spring Street School. Our prinicipal Miss Palen loved birds and an assembly would often be sitting in our seats at our desk, looking at slides of birds, and hearing their songs. Miss Palen was tiny, but tough. I can still see her reaching up to grab a misbehaving sixth grade boy's ear and tugging him by his sore ear to her office. But she loved birds, and so do I.

The second book was from Helene, "Reading Jesus" by Mary Gordon. I got my nose in it (like Bucky used to say) and couldn't stop reading. Her thoughts on the Gospels are so in agreement with mine, I can't believe it. Raised as a Catholic, and hearing Masses in Latin, like myself, the only English was the reading of the Gospel and then the homily that followed. Her thoughts on the Prodigal son and the orchard workers are a convincing argument of the importance of examining the stories that Jesus used to teach. And then she got to the Beatitudes and I almost cried out YES, YES. So many blessed are the --, offering us a gentle, peaceful world. And the one that she dwells on the most, is also the one I think of the most- "blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be conforted". The author sees this blessing as different from the others, whereas the others extol moral qualitites and mourning is not a moral act - she calls it a useless act without a product. But to mourn, to really mourn you must have loved and loved deeply, a gift. I can't wait to read more.

The last book is a little picture book given to me by Sabra, a picture book recounting the day of the family portrait in the cemetery. On the cover is the photo of the couch strapped on Kevin's big truck, on the cemetery road, with grave stones all around. The only words in the book are on the cover - "The couch worried this was the end of the road". Cute, huh? Then the pictures follow in order, first the Bagge boys on the couch, then me sitting down, then Timmy pulling my pigtails straight up in the air, and I am laughing, then the others get into the picture, until the whole family is there, all smiles, arms around each other, Ria's stone in the foreground, her pirate flag a flying, what a day, what a nice book. A good Holiday all in all. Happy New Year's to all - I love you.

Christmas is so full of memories for me, and more and more keep coming back, especially of the days at 17 Falconer Street, even earlier at 28 Washington Avenue. In Grandma's house we lived upstairs, at the bottom of the steps to our apartment was a small table holding the one telephone in the house, and under the stairs was a table. On this unlit table under the stairs, would be the gifts from Aunt El waiting to be brought upstairs and put under the tree. Barbara and I would look them over for hours, in complete rapture. Aunt El's gifts were special. Even before we unwrapped them, they were special. Beautiful paper, each package different, bows and tags with all kinds of beautiful decorations printed on them, a candy cane taped to the top. Our mother and grandmother were not wrappers, Grandma would just put something in a brown bag, or reuse some old wrapping paper, even birthday. Bucky was the same. I guess that's why Aunt El's presents stick in my head.

After moving next door, Christmas memories become more vivid. We had to wait on Christmas Eve for Daddy to get home from work to start decorating the tree. He would be working on it in the cellar, making a stand out of two pieces of wood. He then nailed a coffee can in the center and put the tree in that. Nothing fancy, but I don't even remember it falling down. We each had an area for our presents, for a long time, mine was under the tv, making me about twelve years old for that memory. As a teenager, I remember each year Daddy would buy each of "his girls" a small bottle of Chanel #5. That was precious and must have cost him dearly for he had five girls and a wife.

Christmas with my own children are full of memories...Maria getting a baby doll from Bucky as big as herself, as she tried to carry it around. Then our move to Tivoli, coming the Sunday after Thanksgiving, we looked forward to our first Christmas in our own home. Oh, yes, I remember the good times, but there were troubles too. The time we went to Mass and our dog Woofus ate the Christmas presents - Maria's ear muffs, Paul's GI Joe. Or the time I thought the kids were old enough to put presents under the tree early on Christmas Eve. What a mistake. The piles were carefully counted, oh Sabra's got more than I do. Then Paul realized that none of the wrapped presents in his pile resembled a round item (he wanted nobby tires whatever they are) that he went berserk, ripping a small hole in his pants larger and larger until they were in shreds.

Oh yeah, Christmas is full of memories, and they are ready to pop up at anytime. I'm still shopping so I better not get too nostalgic.