Holiday Nostalgia by Lucy Burdette

 LUCY BURDETTE: I was stuck at home for thanksgiving with the dregs of a cold and feeling a little sorry for myself. Then my cousin sent this photo of their home in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan and that made me feel nostalgic for holidays in the past, and yes, even winter. 

We grew up in New Jersey, and there were never palm trees, always snow. Always a house full of relatives and home baked cookies and books and dolls under the tree. (Despite the Barbies in the second photo, we were so jealous of my brother's guinea pig.)

I got over the envy though, with my brother last year

I can remember one year for my January birthday my father tromped what seemed like miles through the deep snow in the back woods to make a scavenger hunt for the friends at my party.

photo by Ed Drew

When John and I lived full time in Connecticut there was plenty of snow too around Christmas—it seemed like a gyp to go to the service of carols and lights on Christmas Eve without snow!

I miss people who are gone, and animals, and parts of my life that I’ve moved past. 

Tonka at the door

Poco loved the snow!

These days, when I’m feeling nostalgic, I try to channel that into one of my characters. Miss Gloria is the best, because at 85, she’s seen so much change. She doesn't shy away from her feelings about that and yet she embraces life as it is completely. Here’s a little snippet from The Mango Murders where Hayley went to find her in the cemetery:

I sat beside her on the bench and tucked my arm around her shoulders. “I got a little concerned about you because we’re due at Salute in an hour or so. I hope you don’t mind that I came to give you a ride home.”

She looked at me, seemingly puzzled, her expression a million miles away.

“I thought you might have been hit by a car or one of those crazy people drinking beer in golf carts with the right-hand turn signal permanently on.” That was a joke she loved to tell about how some tourists behaved on our island.

Miss Gloria smiled briefly and patted my knee. “We can’t really know when our time is up, can we?” she said in a wistful voice. “I don’t think mine is anytime soon. Though with a murder or a freak accident, those are impossible to predict.” She paused and I suppressed the urge to fill the silence. She needed to talk, and I needed to listen. “The one thing I don’t like about getting older is remembering and missing all the friends and relations who’ve passed before me. I love my life and my new friends, but I miss the old ones too.” 

“Of course you would, that seems only natural.” She had a melancholy look on her face that I’d rarely seen. I wondered if she was thinking about her husband Frank. He’d been gone for many years, but they’d had a happy marriage full of adventure and love and I knew how much she still missed him. 

“Are the plans for big gatherings and parties this week wearing you out before they even happen?” I asked. “We could call the whole thing off, it’s not too late. I can tell the influx of relatives and friends that they should consider this a vacation rather than a birthday party, that you are feeling indisposed. People will understand.”

“Some of them,” she said, with a wry grin. She shook her head. “No, these are my people, the people who love me. Let’s shake it off and carry on.”

Miss Gloria helps remind me how very lucky I am to have the life I have now with its wonderful family and friends and career, and memories too. Moreover, I'd last about an hour in that snow and ice!

How about you Reds, do the holidays make you feel nostalgic sometimes?