Ghosts of Christmas

GHOSTS OF CHRISTMAS PAST

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Every year at Christmas time I get a bit nostalgic. Christmas as a child was usually a quiet affair, just the five of us and my paternal grandparents. When I met my husband I was a bit overwhelmed by the size of his family and their Christmas tradition of all gathering on Christmas eve to have a good meal and exchange presents and I grew to both love and dread holiday. Over the years our families grew up, new members were added by marriage and birth and we became scattered. Our final large family gathering was at my home in 2001 and was one of the best in my memory.

If I had to pick my happiest Christmas, it would be 2002. My husband's employer forced us to move across the state and I was dreading Christmas on the road to see my children and grandchildren. They shocked me by deciding that Christmas should be at our house and they all made the two hour drive to be with us. Some stayed over, some came for just the day, but we were all together, there was no tension and we had a wonderful time!

After that year many changes occurred and while there were still family celebrations they were held a week or two before Christmas and none had that same happy feel.

GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PRESENT

This was our first Christmas spent in the Sunshine State. I have hated to be cold for as long as I can remember and I have had no use for snow since about the age of ten! I have long dreamed of moving to a warm climate and this was the year the dream came true. I struggled with the guilt I felt at not being with family but I was eventually able to set that aside and really enjoy the season. It was an unseasonably warm year here and my memories of my first Christmas here will be of shorts, open windows and warm breezes. Traditional Christmas decorations with snowmen and icicle lights seem so out of place here that they made me smile. Christmas day was a quiet but pleasant day spent with my husband's sister and her husband.

GHOST OF CHRISTMAS FUTURE

Peering into my crystal ball to "see" what the future holds I envision a Christmas far into the future, when my grandchildren are all grown and have babies of their own. The entire family is able to travel at the same time, here to Florida and we have a week filled with days at the beach, in the pool and undoubtedly at a theme park or two culminating with squeals of delight as great-grandchildren discover that Santa can find you wherever you may be..........

This was written for the 114th edition of the Carnival of Genealogy, A Charles Dickens Christmas, to be hosted by Jasia at Creative Gene. Poster courtesy of footnoteMaven.

Santa's Best Gift

SANTA CAME! SANTA CAME! MOM, DAD, HURRY! COME SEE!

Construx, what a great toy that was. I assure you B was quite pleased with Santa's generosity, he played with that toy for hours and hours.

But look closer. What's that down on the floor?

1985 is the Christmas that both B and Bean remember as their favorite, most special, bestest Christmas ever! There were presents but neither remembers a single one. What they do remember is what Santa filled the living room with.

BALLOONS MOM! HE BROUGHT US BALLOONS!

Times were a bit tight back then. I had quit my job the year before to stay home with my kids. After all of the presents were placed under the tree we decided to fill up the empty spaces with a few balloons. Two bags later we were high as kites and giggling like kids ourselves. We really did not anticipate how excited the kids would be over $3 worth of balloons. They only lasted a couple of weeks but the memory will last a lifetime for all of us.

This was our third year year together as a family. They say three times a charm and for us it was. 1985 was the bestest Christmas ever.





This was written for the 19th edition of Smile for the Camera, Gift, to be hosted by footnote Maven at Shades of the Departed.

Musical Memories

There isn't much of a history of musicians in my family. Grandma Carlisle took singing lessons and I'm told she had a beautiful voice that was rarely heard outside of church. My mother took a few piano lessons as a child. She was given a cardboard picture of a keyboard and that is what she had to practice on. There was a large group of children in the class and each was allowed only a few minutes to play on an actual piano each week. It's not surprising that she soon lost interest.


Ta Ta Ti Ti Ta

I have always loved music. One of my earliest memories is of sitting on the kindergarten carpet and chanting ta ta ti ti ta, ti ti, ti ti, ta ta while I banged two red dowels together. Rhythm sticks were my introduction to musical instruments and I wanted more.


50th 51st Use for a Flutophone

My mother's best friend's daughter was several years older than I and when she got a new open hole flute, her older, closed hole flute was lent to me. In this picture I had just turned five. I don't remember her ever giving me lessons nor when or how I learned to read music but I learned how to play. I was never really very good but playing was pure joy for me. Also pictured is my brother with a flutophone that I have no memory of at all.

I don't know how long I had possession of the flute but eventually it was returned. Mom didn't have the money to buy me my own but she was able to buy me a very nice alto recorder. I played it often and was fairly proficient but I never enjoyed playing it nearly as much as the flute. I still have it today though I haven't played it in years.


Next Big Thing

Not being really thrilled with the recorder I talked Mom into buying me a guitar. It was a very basic thing with painful steel strings. Mom signed me up for group lessons at the downtown YWCA and I practiced constantly. When Mom realized that it wasn't a passing fancy for me she bought me a much nicer guitar and somehow found the money to pay for private lessons. The lessons were about fifteen miles away and not on the bus line so she had to drive me to them too. I practiced, I learned, I found joy in my music but I was never really good. I could pick a bit but never managed the difficult classical pieces I so wanted to play.

When I was in middle school some friends and I formed a garage band and had aspirations of being the next big thing. I played mostly rhythm guitar and sang my heart out - even when the rest of the group begged me to stop. Of course our dreams never amounted to anything but I have very fond memories of this chapter of my life. In my head I can still hear my friend playing Stairway to Heaven. What ever happened to him?


Let's March

My troubled teen years found me spending my freshman year of high school living with my father and step-mother in North Carolina. The first day of school I was sent out to the road to catch the bus and go to school. I guess most parents take their child the first day and get them registered or maybe even pre-register them but not my dad. Since the school had no idea I was coming, they hadn't received my records from New York and had to take my word for what classes I should take. So I lied and told them that I'd been in the band and would like to continue.

When I got to my first band class I explained to the band director that I had no instrument but I could play flute or sax, whatever they had. What they had was an alto clarinet.
Now the alto clarinet is not the sexiest of instruments but if the school was willing to provide it I was willing to learn how to play it!

I lugged it home and proudly showed it off to my father and step-mother. My first attempts at playing it were full of squeaks and my step-mother informed me that if I intended to make all that noise I could do so out in the barn. Getting out of the house and being alone was not a punishment to me so I happily spent my practice time there. The pieces I was given were never very challenging so I did ok.

The best thing about the band was that we got to march. There weren't any field shows, just parade march. The band traveled to Wilmington to a parade competition and that was one of the highlights of my high school years.


Last Chair

I only spent the one school year with Dad. When I returned to New York I had to leave the alto clarinet behind. Again, I don't know how Mom managed it, but she bought me a used alto saxophone so that I could continue in band. This school had one of the top rated marching bands in the state and a very demanding practice schedule that I could not meet. So I settled for concert band. The band director was not happy with anyone that didn't march and was very unimpressed with my ability. I sat last chair and knew I always would. There was one other sax player who was very good and he helped me all he could. I knew he was in deep do-do when the director threatened to give him my chair - in front of everybody. That was one of the most humiliating experiences of my life. My band experience there was so miserable that I didn't bother to join in my junior and final year of high school. With a full time job I wouldn't have been able to schedule it anyway but it is still one of life's regrets for me; I wish I had stuck with it.


Band Mom

I did pass my love of music on to my children. Both of my sons played trombone and my daughter the trumpet. The two younger ones were in jazz band for a couple of years along with marching band. I became a band mom and I loved going to all of their concerts and parades. The two younger kids had more interest and really excelled. Then disaster struck. John was transferred and we moved. The kids went from attending a small school with a great band director to a huge school where they were just numbers in a chair. The boys never played much after that but even though my daughter was no longer in the band she stuck with the trumpet and still plays occasionally.


And the Band Plays On

The next generation is just starting out on their musical exploration. The flutophone is now taught in school in second or third grade so Mike and Nikki have had that introduction. Mike is in his middle school band, in the percussion section. Guitar will be taught as part of his music classes this year and he'd like to use mine. I lugged it in from the garage to take the picture I used above. It has a missing string and gear. I'll work at repairing it and maybe recover the joy of playing myself. Nikki won't be able to start with a band instrument until next year but she's already excited about it and trying to decide on an instrument. In a few more years I hope all six will play something and we can have our own family band!


This was written for the 83rd edition of the Carnival of Genealogy to be hosted by Janet Iles at Janet the Researcher.

The subtitle, 50th 51st use for a Flutophone, is my homage to Bill West and fun times in geneablogging land. For the other 49 50 Genealogical Uses for a Flutaphone visit West in New England.

Carnival poster courtesy of of fM at footnote Maven.


Photo of alto clarinet from Wikpedia courtesy of MToolen.

This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution ShareAlike 3.0 License. In short: you are free to share and make derivative works of the file under the conditions that you appropriately attribute it, and that you distribute it only under a license identical to this one.

Photo of alto saxophone from Wikipedia courtesy of Tdvance.

This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution ShareAlike 3.0 License. In short: you are free to share and make derivative works of the file under the conditions that you appropriately attribute it, and that you distribute it only under a license identical to this one.

All other images are from the personal collection of the author.

William Daniel Carlisle 1921-2009

Uncle Bill passed away yesterday morning. He lived in Buchanan, Michigan almost all of his life and as I was raised in Syracuse, NY we didn't get to spend much time together. We visited Michigan a few times, he and his family came to New York twice that I remember.

I visited on my trip to Michigan in 2008 and by then Alzheimer's had robbed him of his memories and his passion. I do remember that he was passionate about many things. His physical health had started to rapidly decline last fall and earlier this year Hospice was called to help. My Aunt Sue had cared for him with all the love anyone could wish for. I am afraid she will be lost in the next few weeks.

I had hoped that Mom would be up to the trip but it seems not. I know attending the funeral would help her grieving process. I thought about driving out by myself but decided it would be best if I stayed close to Mom for the time being.

Most of what I remember about Uncle Bill comes from stories Mom has told me, letters and pictures. I will do a proper obituary in due time, when I have my thoughts a little better connected but I thought as long as I was going through the old pictures now I'd share a few.

Trip of a Lifetime

In the summer of 1998 my sons were out of school and my daughter had just one more year of high school left. I thought (incorrectly) that it would be our last chance for a family vacation. My elder son, PJ, was unable to come and my younger son, B, would only be able to join us for one week. My mother and sister also wanted to go but Mom thought two weeks would be too much for her so she would wait and come with B. Also in our entourage was my daughter's high school boyfriend. Our destination? Hawaii!

This vacation was my favorite for several reasons. Hawaii was always someplace I wanted to see and never thought I would. Traveling with my children as young adults was both trying and yet fun. Being able to have my mother and sister, who had never traveled much was special.

The first week there were five of us and we stayed in two bedroom condos on the Big Island and Kauai. When Mom and B joined us the second week we rented a five bedroom house on the north side of Oahu.

I have a 400 page photo album of that trip with little notes written on each page. Eleven years later I still enjoy passing an afternoon flipping through the pages. I know you don't have time to sit and look over the entire album with me so I'll share just a few of the highlights of the trip.

We did a lot of hiking. Here we saw petroglyphs.

South Point. The rental car company had warned us not to travel here. We went anyway and stopped before the road dropped into the ocean. We saw windmills for the first time.

Every beach was different and offered new discoveries.

We raced with dolphins and learned to snorkel/snuba at Cook's Monument.

Volcanoes National Park. We hiked, were amazed and hiked some more. The park is just amazing.

We swam with giant turtles. The boyfriend decided to follow this one out from the beach and I swam after them to make sure he was safe. He was back to the beach long before me. I float like a cork but I'm not a strong swimmer.

Kauai was so different from the Big Island! Green and lush. Lots more hiking here.

The kids went kayaking for the first time. I would have spent the time they were off on their own worrying about them except .......

I was busy being terrified on my first, last and only helicopter ride.

Our rental home. The week there was fun and relaxing.

This was Mom's first time ever seeing the Pacific Ocean. A swim seemed in order. Mom's health was starting to decline at this point so this will forever be one of my all time favorite pictures.

Mom is a WWII Navy Veteran and being able to take her to Pearl Harbor was an honor. There is a picture that was taken there of her, my sister and I that I love but for the life of me I can't find my copy of it.

Mom was mostly content to sit on the deck while we were off doing other things. The deck was a favorite place for us all to gather and much laughter was shared here.

There was one other lifelong dream that Mom was able to fulfill. She and the kids all had their own helicopter rides. John and I were quite content to sit and await their return.

There many, many other things that we packed into those two weeks. Memories that I will forever cherish. When I told John that I'd be writing about our best vacation ever he immediately said, "Hawaii!" It turns out that this was not the trip he was thinking of. We returned a few years later but that's another story.

Happy Birthday Mom!

Mom, 1943

Beneath the Oaks

803 Main St, Buchanan, MI Year unknown

My great-grandfather, Ashley Carlisle, celebrated his birthday every July 5th by having a picnic under the oak trees on his front lawn. Invited were any and all veterans from the area that wished to attend. People came from Chicago and perhaps even further away. Large tables were lined up end to end and covered with food. Often over 100 people attended. I am guessing that the last picnic was about 90 years ago. I can only imagine what a huge undertaking this was for Ashley and Anna and yet very little about it is found in the letters.

803 Main St, Buchanan, MI. April 2008

Some of the old oak trees may remain but the house is long gone and I assume a new one has been built on the site.

Our 4th of July celebration will take place this afternoon. A picnic will be held under the pines and there will only be 20 or so. Not quite the picnic of years ago but we'll be talking of those long ago days.

Happy Birthday Grandpa Ashley!

Wedding Belle

My wedding attire was very traditional - for my family at least. For both of my weddings I wore a very practical dress that I could also wear to work. My mother wore a pink, wool suit for her wedding. I do not have the details but I'm fairly certain that Grandma Pearl wore a nice traveling dress and certainly neither Anna nor Sarah Ann wore a fancy white dress. Grandma Berry's wedding attire was a skirt and blouse and rather plain but she eventually owned some lovely gowns. I can't imagine that any others of my paternal ancestors wore anything that wasn't perfectly practical.

Although there is certainly nothing wrong with a small wedding and simply wearing your best clothes, I always felt that I had somehow missed out. When my sister announced her engagement I was thrilled for her. I was doubly thrilled when she asked me to be her matron of honor and to go shopping with her for a bridal gown. Several gowns were tried before one with a lovely Chapel train. When I first saw her in that gown I teared up. She was certainly a beautiful bride and family tradition has now been changed.






This was written for the 14th edition of Smile for the Camera.