It was
depressing to watch our parents struggle to find food to cook a special meal for
Christmas, for the New Year, and to make ends meet on small state salaries. We
were too young, but we understood the word “no” and the phrase, “we can’t afford
it.” There was more food in the stores provided for the masses, but the lines
were still endless.
Dad always
found a small Christmas tree which brought into our small apartment the
fragrant essence of fir, bright, shiny colors, and cheer. The kitchen smelled
like roasted chicken and pork chops, potatoes, fried sausages made by grandpa, mamaliga
(polenta made with yellow corn meal), and mom’s special cornulete (little
horns) baked with walnuts, cocoa, sunflower oil, and powdered sugar.
When mom
could find beef, she made us a special salad called salata de Boeuf,
boiled chopped beef, boiled and chopped potatoes, green peas, and mixed with
homemade mayonnaise. The job of mixing the eggs until the mayo took shape was
mine on account of my young hands and arms which did not get tired and achy as
quickly. We did not have a mixer and frankly, I had never seen one until I came
to the United States as an adult. I had never seen any other kitchen appliance
or vacuums that most people in the West took for granted.
Mom also made
a special Christmas bread, cozonac, with Turkish delights and chopped
walnuts folded in cocoa. The loaf was drizzled with a mixture of egg and butter,
and it smelled divine while baking in the gas oven.
We were not drinkers,
but dad brought home for the holidays two bottles of wine and some plum brandy
or rum. It was a tradition to toast the New Year with a full glass of wine in
hopes that life in the coming year would be easier and good health and luck
would prevail.
We went to
grandma’s Orthodox Church in the village on Christmas Eve. When the mass ended,
the congregation circled the church three times with burning candles in celebration
of Jesus’s birth. The church was empty throughout the year, save for the older
ladies in the village who attended regular services, but during Christmas and
Easter the church was always full. Those who mustered the courage to attend came
to church to praise the birth of Jesus and to pray for a better life.
People
shared their extra holiday food with the less fortunate, those alone, sick, widowed,
or left without any family.
Christmas
time was for families to be home with their loved ones and New Year’s Eve was
the time to have a party with the extended family, usually in the country where
food and drink was more plentiful. People had gardens and canned a lot, and some
raised pigs to feed many at Christmas. It was the time of the year when we had
the most protein and everyone shared in the bounty.
Holidays
became more sedate as the years flew by and we got older. We have plenty of
food now but fewer and fewer people to share it with. The Christmas tree seems
lonely without the laughter of children. There is no Bogart to drink the tree
water and to sleep under the low hanging ornaments and the twinkling lights. He
crossed the Rainbow Bridge five years ago.
Mom died a year and a half ago and her loss changed our lives fundamentally. She was our matriarch, the super glue that kept our small family together. Her happy spirit is always with us. She is finally reunited with my dad in Heaven.
Our people
have scattered around the world, with their own families, unable to visit their
loved ones. Many passed away. Gone are the times when the children remained in
the same village or even the same town with their parents. They have dispersed everywhere
for better opportunities and to build their own homes, seldom returning to the place
they were born in or spent their formative years.
It is true,
you can never go back home, you will not find what you were looking for because life
has moved on, but the Christmas traditions we once took for granted will endure no matter where we are, and
so will the memories.
Thanks for the memories! Shared on FB & X/Twitter with blue share button at end of story.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Marijane!
DeleteAnother wonderful article! I appreciate learning about your life in Romania, and of all of your experiences in the US. I especially loved the mormory of Bogart at Christmas time. I have given at least a dozen copies of "Being Bogart" to family and friends, and have left copies in doctors' offices. I didn't know your mother, but I know how important she was to your family. It's so hard to go through holdays without our parents, but as they say on Broadway, "The show must go on..
ReplyDeleteYou are right, Susan. Thank you for your kind words and thank you for giving copies of Being Bogart to family and friends. He was a precious family member and lived a long and happy life with us. I carried him to the vet in the last 18 months of his life twice a week for fluid infusions because he had such a zest for life unlike any fur baby we've ever had.
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