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.

Having lived through 69 Thanksgiving Days, I have different memories from each. The earliest ones were held at Grandma Burky's. The kids were fed early, before the adults, and I don't even think we got the turkey. Then the dinner moved to Bucky's house, first being held downstairs. There was a fire going in the fireplace, all the tables lined up to make one long one and the food was brought down from the kitchen and up the street from Grandma Burky's. But Grandma still had one thing in mind, feed them and get them out. I remember once Grandma put a piece of pumpkin pie right on Uncle Jack's full plate, in fact maybe right on top of his turkey. Then we moved back upstairs into the dining room. The kids ate in the kitchen at the kids' table and that's when the Thanksgiving Day beatings started. The O'Leary's loved to put on a show for their cousins, John leading a contest to see who find the longest hair in their stuffing and other contests involving the dinner. Once, when they were suppose to do the dishes, John or Tom or both opened the kitchen window and jumped out with Uncle Jack following them down the street.

Oh, there are funny memories - the time Uncle Eddie put his hand in the sofa, looking for an earring that Aunt Muriel had lost and instead found a piece of lemon merinque pie that Pooh Bear, their dog, had hidden for a later treat. And the time that the grinder that Bucky used to mix the sausage into the stuffing broke and the stuffing was served full of nuts and bolts.

A sad memory of the Thanksgiving when Kennedy was shot, all eyes on the television watching the grief of the country for a president that was so full of life and vibrant.

But this Thanksgiving might be talked about for years, and I doubt if Liz or Zander will ever forget it. It's the Thanksgiving that Zander fell into the septic tank. The kids were playing kick ball outside, Jer and Liz were chatting on the deck when Zander screamed and they saw that he had been swallowed up with just his head peeking out of the earth. Liz pulled him out, got him into the house crying and whipped off the Buzz Lightyear outfit he had worn for Thanksgiving Day. The hole, we discovered, was the Bird's Nest septic tank, the top had collapsed and thus the sink hole that poor Zander discovered.

Later I thought how bad this could have been - Zander ending up in the septic and what if we had people upstairs in the B&B? "Hey honey, come and see some poor kid is up to his chin in the shitter." Well, as Bucky used to say, "All's well that ends well" (maybe Shakespeare said it too) and all I have to do is find somebody to fix that damn hole before we lose someone else in it. Happy Black Friday.

Mark Twain said, "I've seen many troubles in my time, only half of which ever came true". I thought the quote was 90% never came true, which seems more like the odds should be in my family of worriers. But the family photo that was taken last Saturday came off with no problems at all and my worries were for naught.

The idea came up at the kitchen table, somebody mentioned the gift certificate for a family photo that Maria, Laura, Paul and Sabra had chipped in for my Christmas gift, so many years ago, we weren't sure if it was 8 or 9 or 10. So, then the conversation continued, we should use the certificate, which I had kept in plain sight on my bedroom bureau . I fetched it and we decided to use it, but I said, we are missing Maria now, and it was suggested to take the photo at her gravesite, so the stone would be in it. Then, someone said "Let's take ma's couch and we can have a couch picture with the group." Now, I had my concerns, but I figured the photographer would either say that the certificate was too old, or most certainly she wasn't going to the graveyard with a couch. Laura offered to call her with the proposal. And to my surprise, Laura said she loved the idea.

We called everybody, there are more than 20 of us, and got everyone to pick a good time for all. I called Kevin and said, "We're taking a family picture, can you be there?" Sure he said. I said it's going to be at the graveyard, and he said ok. Then I said, "there's one more thing - we need your truck to bring my couch there." Again, no "what the hell are you thinking?" Just an ok.

Then I worried for a week, what if we got arrested, thrown out of a graveyard. Sabra tried to calm me, Ma there's a list of things you can't bring - sleds, glass vases, etc. - nothing about a couch.

So Saturday came, we got there and dread of all dread, there were people throughout the cemetery, surveyors, men measuring to put in stones and my dentist and another woman cleaning up branches. But the photographer was there, the couch was positioned and we had the pictures taken. And not one of the others even came near us to ask, "Hey, guys what are you doing?" So, all my worry was for nothing. Don't worry, be happy. We can't wait to see the pictures.

This week's NY Times had an article on "Shadow Work", work we do that is unpaid. When the term was coined 30 years ago, it referred mostly to housework, but today it is all around us. Pumping your own gas, bagging your own groceries are just two examples. The article mentioned that once stores had employees that assisted shoppers in finding what they were looking for. Today that no longer exists for two reasons, stores saving money and more important the longer it takes you to find what you are looking for, the more likely you are to just pick up a few more items.

This made me think of when I was a kid in Beacon we had a department store Schoonmaker's in which each department was manned by a clerk, who could not only help you find an article (such as a gift for your father in Men's Wear) but also had a cash drawer where you could pay for it. My friend Elaine's mother worked for years in the men's department, each Christmas helping me find the right thing for the right amount for Daddy. Even Grant's across the street had an employee in each department to help you. At Christmas I worked in the stocking and sock area, helping men pick out stockings for their wives. Today most people are young enough that they don't remember that method of shopping or so old they forgot.

And what I miss the most is the Shoe Store. Today you go to the shoe section, look for the style you want on display, check the item number and then search the shelves for that shoe, in your size. Not easy to find, and then you sit on a bench, if you're lucky enough to find one, try on the shoe, and if not satisfied, start all over. What a contrast from the past. First you would look at the selections available, much more than today. Then you would show it to an employee. He would seat you, remove your shoe, measure your foot, and then go find the shoe in the back of the store. Then he would kneel before you, helping you tuck your foot into the shoe - honestly, you felt like Cinderella with the prince...Anyway, if you wanted another color, off he would run and get it for you. Anything you asked for, it was his job to make you happy. Then he would take the boxed shoes to the counter, ring if up and send you off happily ever after.

Shadow work - I still don't pump my own gas -oh, I tried it about 25 years ago, but each pump is different to operate, I got gas on my hands, and then I had to wait in line to pay. I go to the one gas station in Red Hook that still pumps your gas, sometimes they even wash your windows, front AND back. It's hard when I'm away and every gas station is self service, then I have to beg a relative, usually a young kid, to go with me and pump the gas. They do my shadow work for me. Shadow work, sounds sneaky, and I have to think maybe it is.

So today is calling for snow - not fluries - snow, up to ten inches. The juncos reappeared this week, so I knew cold weather was on the way, but this is too much. And my worse nightmare, we have four people staying in the Bird's Nest. That means the driveway has to be cleared, the steps leading up have to be cleared, the deck has to be cleared. Not to mention, that they are predicting electrical outages, as the trees heavy with snow and weakened by Irene, come down. So that's what we have to look forward to - shoveling and no lights.

Daddy loved snow, mostly because he was a skier. But also as a deer hunter, he would say a light coating of snow during deer season (around Thanksgiving) would be good to track the deer and also, if a wounded deer is moving, to follow him. April snow he liked for spring skiing, would be off to Vermont, returning with a sunburned face and stories of sleeping in an attic with other skiers.

I remember it snowed on the night that Barbara and Jack were married, not much but a coating. That too was late October. But I was hoping for some more of those Indian Summer days, didn't Timmy and I just see swimmers two weeks ago? The neighbors are busy all putting on plows, bringing in wood. Us? Timmy is at the gym, and I told him to pick up some fundador on the way home. First things first.

Well, another Oysterfest under the belt. We had wonderful weather, warm enough that I wore my bathing suit and got sun burned a bit. Stayed at the Sea Shells, in the house I had shared with Ria in 2007....pretty much the same. In back of us at the Main House, a wedding party was there on Sunday, the young people looked so nice all dressed up going out to the wedding. Not so nice coming back in about 1am, loud yelling, laughing, talking, waking both Timmy and myself up. Just got back to sleep about 3am when a woman's screaming voice was heard, "Thanks a ff....lot for leaving me and coming back without me, I had to call three f...cabs before I got one to take me here, on and on and on, until someone calmed her down. I leaned over to Timmy and said, "Do you think that's the bride?" Timmy just said, "I think I know why they left her." The next day they were gone and things were quieter. In fact, after Columbus Day, everyone left and our car was the only one in the lot until Friday when people starting arriving to go to Oysterfest..

The Oysterfest was crowded, good weather brought thousands of people out. In the ten years we've been going, it's changed dramatically. Used to be a small table set up on Main Street where the shucking contest took place. Now there is a big commercial stage, tents filled with all kinds of food, vendors up and down the street, and barely enough room to get through. Also, everyone is on a phone. One girl checking her new earrings, lots of people trying to locate each other, and one woman at our table, checking her calories "Oh 6 oysters are only 180 calories", although from the size of her, there might have been something else on her plate. Our boy Caleb was there, amidst the Pirate Shellmen who were shucking oysters to sell. Caleb was standing in front of a large steering wheel, dressed as a pirate. When he saw me take his picture, he yelled to me "Give me your gold ARRRRR". Made me laugh with tears in my eyes.

And riding home, along the Cape Route 6, people with signs, "We are the 99%" - even in Great Barrington, which is an elite Berkshire city, there were at least 50 people demonstrating on the Main Street. That makes me glad. Glad to see that people are waking up and willing to go stand on a sidewalk and voice their opinion that our government has got to do something. I think I will start an Occupy Tivoli Movement. My sign will say, STOP THE WAR AND SAVE TRILLIONS OF $$$$$$$. Give the people the gold ARRRRR.

Well tomorrow we are off to the Cape for fun in the sun and Oysterfest. I remember years back a Columbus Day when the Murphy family went to Sherwood Island on the Long Island Sound in Connecticut on a warm day like is predicted for this year. We all went into the water even though it was October. I remember I was about 12 because Barbara had brought Jack, her boyfriend, along in the family station wagon. The beach was very rocky, and I remember him limping on the rocks to get to the water. He had hurt himself playing high school football a few days earlier. Later he found out that he had a broken leg and used crutches for a while.

I don't remember if the broken leg came before the cut up arm, when he put his arm through a glass window at Beacon High. As I remember, he ran bleeding, to Highland Hospital, a block away from the school. He needed thousands of stitches and had the scar as long as I can remember. Thinking about this, I bet today he could have sued the school for big bucks for both times - one, who would have a glass door for students, and two, don't they monitor hurt football players? But in those days, nobody sued.

Welll, back to a warm day in October. They are gifts, and if they come after a frost, are given the name Indian Summer. Tomorrow is also the Street Painting, which I will miss for the first time in 11 years - and for Tivoli, the weather is predicting in the 80's. One year for the street painting, Laura had put an unbrella in a tub of sand to get shaded while she worked. It can get dangerously hot on a hot pavement, working in the sun. In Florida at the Lake Worth Street Painting in February the younger kids are all wearing shorts and small tops, sunscreen. The older folks wear big hats and cover up. Street Paintings and Oysterfest. I love Indian Summer.