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Tag Archives: Christmas

“D”…….Dad

04 Saturday Apr 2015

Posted by Marianne On a Mission in Uncategorized

≈ 10 Comments

Tags

A to Z Blog Challenge, Christmas, Dad, humor

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Like most dads, ours knew everything. Really. Just ask the question and you’d have an answer. No, THE answer.

“How come some guys don’t have hair on top of their heads? They only have frames around the sides.”

Well, their heads grew so much they pushed out of their hair.

Oh.

“What does blood taste like?”

Peaches.

Hmmmmm…..

Da….I always called him Da….was the one who taught us great words, like GAZONKSHTAHIGGIN and GESHICKTISS. Translation: thingamajig and yicky, as in “What’s that gazonkshtahiggin in your hand? You’re getting all geshicktiss.”

Da made the best Christmases ever. Christmas started early and ended, reluctantly, after New Year’s. He read the stories and listened to the carols on our little record player with us and always found the best tree.

He was the ruler of a magical empire of model trains, where on state occasions we were invited to enter and watch…..not touch…..the trains that ran round tracks that wound behind the stairs and up the walls and all over the old cellar where he spent so much time creating his masterpieces.

Da was in The War. Everybody was, back then. It was something that had to be done and that was that.

The thing we never expected was that Da would be our only parent for more than forty years. I know he never expected it. Mom suddenly wasn’t there anymore and it was him and four kids, two teenagers and two not even in school yet. It was numbing. For all of us.

But we all kept moving, not always confidently or even on the right foot. That’s how it was.

He was a father, grandfather and great grandfather. He came to graduations and weddings. He sat in a hospital room while his grandson battled a catastrophic illness and conspired with his great grandson to squash Easter peeps–those awful marshmallow chicks–in his chubby little hands. Geshicktiss!

I thought of blogging on Da because I just realized he’s been gone almost ten years. We thought he would be with us forever. It seemed like he was.

It seems like he is.

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Christmas in the Hurtgen, 1944

20 Saturday Dec 2014

Posted by Marianne On a Mission in Uncategorized

≈ 9 Comments

Tags

308th Engineers, 83rd Infantry, Battle of the Bulge, Belgium, Christmas, Germany, history, Hurtgen Forest, Luxembourg, nostalgia, World War 2 history

December 1944. The 308th Engineer Combat Battalion of the 83rd US Infantry had moved from Steinsel, Luxembourg to Gey, Germany, where they were dug in from December 18 to 25. It was the coldest, snowiest winter Europe had seen in more than thirty years.

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Hitler’s army was pushing a last ditch counteroffensive against the Allies and the 308th was in the thick of it. It would become the bloodiest battle of the war: the Battle of the Bulge.

The Engineer companies supported the Infantry regiments in their attack and support missions. They worked on extensive road repairs and maintenance, mine sweeping and mine laying, bridge demolition and construction, splinter proof shelter construction and assistance to Artillery battalions in getting to forward positions.

Roads in the area were in very bad condition from heavy shelling. Shell fragments covered road surfaces, causing the engineers about fifty tire punctures daily as they hauled gravel in dump trucks to fill shell holes. Working long hours and having support from a Corps Engineer Battalion who worked exclusively on the roads, they kept the most important roads open.

For my dad, SSGT Harry J. Kirby, Jr, Co. C, and for most American GIs, no matter what else was going on, it was still Christmas. Herr Hitler was really making himself a nuisance with his Panzers and their big guns. The 83rd pushed back with all they had. But hey, it was Christmas.

Just before Christmas, Harry and the fellas found a treasure trove of beautiful glass Christmas ornaments in the cellar of a ruined farmhouse. Just what they needed!

In the forest, they picked out the perfect fir tree, not difficult in the Hurtgen Forest. In between their regular duties, they decorated that little tree and had their own little Christmas there amid the deep snow, bitter cold, and booming shells.

One of the guys had his camera. The gang gathered round the tree for a ‘family portrait’ and the soldier promised he would make sure everyone got a copy of the photo. It was a warm moment in the midst of a bleak winter far away from home for these American boys.

This is not the 308th, but these guys celebrated, too.

This is not the 308th, but these guys celebrated, too.

A few days later, in the hell that was the battle in the Hurtgen, that soldier was killed. Dad never told us his name or I would remember him here. But no one ever saw the precious photo of that Christmas tree, that little piece of home.

 

 

In 1994, the veterans of the 83rd returned to Europe, visiting Gey and the Hurtgen. Driving through the dark, dense forest, the old soldiers murmured to each other about ‘snow’ and ‘so cold’ and ‘minefields’ and ‘tree bursts’. It was a solemn moment for them, rife with memories.

Engineers Jim Prentice, Al Siverio, and Harry Kirby. June 1994

Engineers Jim Prentice, Al Siverio, and Harry Kirby. June 1994

The 308th departed Gey on Christmas Day 1944 and pushed on through Ossogne, Janee, and Biron, Belgium, where they remained into January 1945. In the beginning weeks of the new year, the 83rd was employed in the 7th Corps zone to defeat the German breakthrough in the vicinity north of Houffalize, Luxembourg. On 21 January, they assembled near Hamoir, Belgium, for rest and rehabilitation.

More peaceful times in Gey, June 1944. Harry's grandson, Mike, is at the far right.

More peaceful times in Gey, June 1944. Harry’s grandson, Mike, is at the far right.

 

 

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The Real Santa Claus

05 Friday Dec 2014

Posted by Marianne On a Mission in Uncategorized

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Tags

black Santa, Christmas, kids at Christmas nostalgia, little girl's secret, Santa Claus

 

imageI know a secret about Santa Claus. He came to my house, and I wasn’t even asleep and it wasn’t even Christmas yet. And I found out something nobody else on Earth knew. And they didn’t believe me!

I was about six years old. I was watching Uncle Miltie on TV (bonus points if you know who that is!) when the doorbell rang and mommy went to answer it. I paid no attention, engrossed in the slapstick antics on TV. Mom came back through the vestibule, all excited. “Babe! Look who it is!” And in walked Santa Claus. Right into our living room. I mean, seeing him in Gimbels Toyland was one thing, but wow. This was huge. Wow.

He was quiet and soft spoken and had a sack with him. He was shown to grandmom’s great big chair that we weren’t allowed to sit in……but of course, he was Santa.

“You are Marianne. Come and sit with me,” he said softly, holding out his arms. I was the shyest little girl in the world, but what could I do? I went. He helped me up on his lap so we could chat.

I was face to face with the real Santa Claus. Not the kind in the big store. The one who comes to your house. I mean THISCLOSE. He asked the usual questions, I gave the usual answers. And the whole time, I stared at his face, mesmerized. I had noticed something. Something earth shattering. I remember thinking, “Wait til I tell them!”

Well, we finished our conversation, I got a candy cane, and he told me to get right to bed. To be honest, that kind of annoyed me. We were always allowed to watch Uncle Miltie! But well, you can’t argue with Santa, right?

He left and mom, dad and gram were so excited! The real Santa Claus, not one of those helper guys, came to our house! I was calmer. I had insider info on him now and I wanted them all to know.

“Santa Claus is colored,” I announced importantly. They were very surprised, to say the least.

“No, he isn’t. He’s white,” mom said. “He was just here…you saw him!”

“Yes,” I agreed. “I did. He was wearing a mask.” I had studied that mask up close and behind it, I saw a colored man. Can’t fool me.

“Well,” said mom, “he wears the mask to keep his face warm on the way down from the North Pole in the sleigh.”

I remember so clearly thinking “Well, okay, you can still think that if you want to. But I know he’s colored.” And that was fine with me. You can fool the whole rest of the world, but not me. Nope. Santa Claus is colored!

I kept this intelligence to myself from then on. It was my biggest, most spectacular secret.

I never forgot that night or that Santa. Even when nobody believed me. In his honor, I have a ‘colored’ Santa among my Christmas decorations to this day, a memory of a truly magical night and a truly magical visitor.

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Keep believing, my friends!

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Christmas and The Rosh Hoshannah Kid

30 Sunday Nov 2014

Posted by Marianne On a Mission in Uncategorized

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

Christmas, Hannukah, humor, Jewish, Jewish holiday

imageIf you have read my blog a few times, you might recall how I was born on Rosh Hoshannah and delivered by Dr. Nathan Steinberg, an Orthodox Jew. If not, you can go back to September’s posts and learn how I, The Rosh Hoshannah Kid, learned to respect Judaism because of him.

As I grew, ‘Jewish’ to me was still, as I like to say, just another ‘ISH’. And in the Second Street neighborhood in Philadelphia where my dad grew up, and where my brother Harry and I spent many happy times, especially holidays, there were Jewish people we knew well. Like Mr. and Mrs. Bellow, who ran the deli/candy store at the corner; Julius the butcher, who had some funny writing on his store window (dad said it meant Kosher Butcher); Harry Zweig, the painter and paper hanger across the street; and the Weinsteins at the shoe store where we got our school shoes (Buster Brown).

They were JewISH, we were IrISH, and some neighbors were PolISH. As it should be.

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One December day, walking with dad through the forest of Christmas trees for sale at Lamplugh’s (Irish) fruit and vegetable store, I mentioned with seven-year-old concern that it was awfully close to Christmas but Julius and Mrs. Bellow didn’t have their Christmas decorations up yet.

Dad chuckled. “Well, they’re Jewish.”

I knew that. Yeah, so what?

“Jewish people don’t have Christmas.”

How can that be? We ALL have Christmas….let’s not be selfish….we should let them have it, too.

He delivered the news that shook little me right down to my Weinstein Buster Browns:

They don’t want to.

Whoa. Unbelievable. I will never forget the shock! They don’t WANT to? Dad was a great kidder, but that’s not funny. How can they not WANT Christmas?

That was the first time I learned that Jewish wasn’t just an ‘ISH’, but a belief in God, and that Christmas was a religious holiday that had to do with a different belief in God.

Took me many years to come to terms with that but I was a little mollified when I discovered there was a Jewish holiday, Hannukah, happening around the same time as Christmas. It took even longer to grasp the fact that the two are not at all related……but still…..a winter celebration.

Now I’m ready to celebrate everyone’s winter holidays. It’s all about the return of the light to clear the darkness. Always good.

I guess that long ago revelation cleared up a little darkness for me! The Rosh Hoshannah Kid and The Big C: lesson learned!

In honor of Dr. Steinberg, the Bellows, Julius, and the others, I hang a dreidel on my Christmas tree every year, and a little bag of gelt. I think they would like that.

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Merry Christmas!

 

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Marianne Kirby Rhodes

Marianne Kirby Rhodes

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