Home is where the holiday is

This Christmas the Texas daughter and her family will not be
coming this way for the holidays so I went to Austin for a pre-Noel
visit. I wanted to make sure she didn’t miss anything not being in
California. We talked about doing some of the traditional things,
maybe go to the Nutcracker or a Christmas concert. But in keeping
with the spirit of a city proud of its weirdness, we opted for new
Austin traditions.
First was a Julia Child dinner party where guests were invited
to bring recipes from Mastering the Art of French Cooking. Our
hosts dressed as Julia and Paul, one in polyester knit dress and
high heels and his partner in goatee and beret. We dined on dishes
awash in butter and cheese and trilled “bon appetit’ in our most
flamboyant Julia voices while visions of the real Julia flashed on
a big screen next to a Christmas tree.
At another Austin holiday gala we mingled with the pretty people
in a cocktail lounge of a downtown hotel where the bar stools are
made out of hairy white cowhide. When she lived in San Francisco
daughter Sam and her sisters and girlfriends would put on their
holiday glitz and take over a bar in one of the city’s hotels. Not
yet having a core group in Austin she invited a random mix of women
she met through her book club, the neighborhood, the gym and a
stepmothers group to dress in their merriest and meet for drinks.
They showed up and brought friends. I was the token import, dressed
in Wine Country casual and wishing for a pair of cowboy boots.
She’ll be fine in Texas for Christmas. Her new Austin ways mix
well with a number of California holiday favorites. She’s made her
grandmother’s Russian tea cookies. For Christmas dinner she’ll make
the family spinach and walnut salad, but this year plans to add in
some new dish “from Julia.”
Her tree is decorated with familiar ornaments. I spotted the
tiny rocking horse made out of red felt that her grandmother gave
her when she was two. And she still has the music box covered with
Santa elves from when she was a baby. It’s pretty beat up but still
produces a jaunty “Jingle Bells.”
Christmas is not always so portable. There were two Christmases
that I spent without any family. They were the years my husband and
I lived in Germany and although our daughters were in California I
looked forward to the two of us having a cozy, festive holiday in
Europe. The first Christmas my husband, flying from Nairobi to
Frankfurt, ended up stuck at an airport in London, leaving me with
the cat. Some friends took pity and asked me to dinner, and the
traveler got back that night in time for dessert.
Another Christmas the two of us took the train to Italy to a
small mountain village where it snowed and was perfectly festive
until Santa took a slip on the ice outside the hotel on Christmas
Eve. A cab driver, heaped in holiday good will, took him down the
mountain to a hospital to have x-rays on his back. He was okay but
they kept him overnight for observation and I returned to the hotel
to drink Chianti with the ghosts of Christmas past.
This year the family will be at home for Christmas, both in
California and Texas. And God bless us everyone with Skype.
Susan Swartz is an author and local journalist. You can also
read her at www.juicytomatoes.com and hear
her Another Voice commentary on KRCB-FM radio on Fridays. Email is
su***@ju***********.com.