My Holiday Memories

maxburbank

CHRISTMAS, 1967

We are Jews, but not in the religious sense. More in the sense that if a new Nazi party were ever to arise in America, chances are it wouldn’t matter much to them that we rarely if ever mentioned God in my home. We celebrate Christmas, because that’s when we are out of school and Christmas is in many ways, a secular, American holiday. Santa did not die on any cross, my father explains. I have no earthly idea what he is talking about, but it makes me uneasy. We do not have a Christmas tree, or decorations. You have to draw the line somewhere and that line is drawn by my parents firmly where things seem to become a hassle. Christmas morning my Mother descends the stairs in a bathrobe that can no longer recall the color it once was, the first cigarette of the day already…

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