I didn’t grow up around fruitcake making but there was always some around. I liked the dark kind not the light, blah type. I have been making fruitcake for years now. Sometimes I don’t get it in the mail in time and we end up eating fruitcake through the winter and into spring. You can see from the large bottle of rum that I not only soak it in spirits but add some in the mixing. People have already been requesting cakes so I should get started. Last year I started in November. This year I’m spending so much time doing posts on Christmas memories that I am not making them this year. Or maybe the memory will be 2010 – the year I did blog posts.
The Kwanzaa table, minus the fruits and vegetables and plus a globe – 2009
When I was elementary school age our neighborhood was majority Jewish. We never celebrated the Jewish holidays but we learned about them. I remember singing the dreidel song in school and learning about the menorah. I didn’t realize Kwanzaa was in the “another tradition” category until today, so here is my late offering. Once again I bring you a reprint from Ruff Draft 1991. We didn’t celebrate it when I was growing up since it didn’t begin until the late 1960’s. Our children grew up celebrating either at home or in community celebrations.
Kwanzaa
By Ayanna Williams
Kwanzaa is a Black holiday started in the U.S.A. in the 1960s.
This year on the last day of Kwanzaa, which was New Years Day, we had a big to-do and invited Henry over. We dressed up. Tulani and I in sarongs. That is material draped around your body and hung over your shoulder. James and Cabral wore baggy pants and African print shirts. Jilo and Ife, who were home on winter break, wore long skirts. All the girls but Jilo, wore geles (head wraps). Jilo didn’t want to cover her dreadlocks.
When Henry got there we were downstairs in our regular clothes so we ran upstairs and after much losing of skirts and falling off of wraps, we finally went down. As we went Tulani played the drum, James used the shakare, Cabral strummed the ukelele and I had to use two blocks. We chanted “Kwanzaa, First Fruits!” as we came. We giggled a little as we went through the kitchen. Black eye peas, sweet potatoes and rice were simmering on the stove for us to eat directly after the ritual. When we got to the living room, all the lights were off except one. By that light we, in turn, read the seven principles in Swahili and their meanings in English. The introduction was read by Daddy. Nia/Purpose was read by Henry. Umoja/Unity was read by Tulani. Kujichagulia/Self determination was read by Ayanna, Ujima/Collective Work and Responsibility by James. Ujamaa/Cooperative economics by Ife, Kuumba/Creativity by Mommy for Cabral and Imani/Faith by Jilo.
Then we read the meanings explained in plain English that Jilo had written. After we read the principles and lit all seven candles, Jilo read a story she had written about Kwanzaa with all of the principles included. We then ushered everybody into the dining room while chanting the principles and their meanings. Well, that was the plan, but nobody but us kids knew so the adults just sat there and watched us. So we finally just got up and told them to come to the table.
After dinner Henry told tales about when he was a kid and about his uncles and cousins. Some how the conversation went from reminiscing to the state of the world today. He and Jilo had quite a discussion that lasted for hours. At the end Henry went home and we all went to bed.
Christmas 1968 at my Grandmother Cleage’s house in Detroit. Gladys far left. My father’s head front left, Maria, Blair and Anna front and enter. Henry on the couch. Winslow laughing and Louis smoking in the back.
I remember Santa from my childhood but it wasn’t an important part and I don’t have any memorable memories. My cousin Anna did though and here is one of hers from our family newsletter, the Ruff Draft 1991. In the photograph above Maria is the child on the left and Anna is the child on the right. Their father, Winslow is behind them at the door smiling in profile.
Christmas Memory
Anna writes, My memories aren’t all that clear, but there is one that shines bright in my mind. It was one Christmas Eve, when Maria and I were about six and eight years old. We had just tucked ourselves into bed for the night. Suddenly we heard a tinkling, jingling sound. We both looked at each other with mouths open wide and eyes sparkling with excitement. We knew it was Santa for sure. We scrambled out of bed and raced for the steps. We got to the landing, almost tumbling down the stairs in our haste, and there he was…NOT Santa Claus, but DADDY! There he was, grinning from ear to ear, holding a glass, hitting it gently with a silver spoon. If we had had our pillows we would have pelted Dad right there, but instead we just laughed hilariously. It was and still is a great memory.
Hasina and abeo examining Christmas cookies by Ife.
Christmas Cookies
I am so behind in my Christmas calendar posts but today I realized I do have something to say about most of those I skipped so I am going on a posting binge today .
I do not remember making Christmas cookies when I was growing up. When my children were growing up they would often bake cookies to give to the extended family for gifts and to eat, of course.
My grandchildren have joined this tradition and last Christmas cookies were baked and given and eaten. I expect the same will happen this year.
Playing cards, talking and eating cookies Xmas 2009.
Me at Old Plank in 1962. I was 15, the year after the memory.
Another memory from Ruff Draft 1990, this time mine.
I remember the first year I was old enough to try and buy presents for all my relatives. I must have been about 13 or 14. I just had my allowance. I saved up and got presents for several great aunts, seven or eight cousins, parents, a sister, numerous aunts and uncles and my grandparents. There was a dime store in Milford, Michigan where we used to go when we spent time up at the farm on Old Plank Road. There I bought several perfume atomizers for the great aunts and a set of wooden alphabet blocks for little Blair and a cast iron trivet with a country snow scene for my mother. I bought something for everybody. I don’t know why I didn’t make cookies or something. I don’t remember how anybody liked their gifts but I worried a lot about if they would or not.
This is another memory from the December 1990 Ruff Draft, a family newsletter we put out for 5 years. My daughter Ayanna interviewed my Uncle Henry and wrote this from the interview. The photo was probably taken several years earlier than the memory. It was taken by the house on Scotten on the old west side of Detroit about 1925.
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Henry Cleage remembers when his Aunt Gertrude won a nice new shiny bike. He just knew she would give it to him for Christmas. On Christmas Eve he was sitting in the living room with his father after the younger kids had gone to bed. His father said, “Henry, go over to your Aunt’s and get that bike … for Hugh.” Henry thought he would never enjoy Christmas again, but that after seeing Hugh so happy with the bike he decided it was all worth it. Even so he said that Christmas was never the same for him. It had lost some of the magic.
When I was growing up in the 1950’s lights were rare in my neighborhood. I remember the first lights I saw. My family moved into the huge house above in 1952 after a church fight in which my father, a pastor, and 300 parishioners left St. Marks Presbyterian church to organize Central Congregational Church. During the time before a new church building was found and purchased the church met at Crosman School on Sundays while all other activities were held at the house above. We lived on the second floor, church activities were on the first floor and in the very large recreation room in the basement. My sister and I shared the bedroom marked with the red X. On the side was a window (marked Z) that we could look out of at night and see a house in the next block outlined in multicolored lights. We called it the gingerbread house and thought it was beautiful and unique.
I don’t remember ever riding by when the lights were on. We lived on the west side of Detroit while one set of grandparents lived on the east side. Driving from one house to the other we would be coming home after dark and I remember looking at people’s lit Christmas trees through the windows, I don’t remember any outdoor lights. In later years that changed. I think my west side grandparents eventually had lights and some plastic lit up carolers out in front. My youngest son always wanted to put lights outside our house but since we lived at the end of a dead end road in the middle of the Manistee National Forest at the time, it never happened. Thinking back, I should have let him do it.
My family did not send out Christmas cards when I was growing up. Probably because all the relatives lived in Detroit and we saw them during the holidays. We usually had a good number of cards to display across the mantle though because my mother was a teacher and she brought home all the cards her students gave her. I did make some cards in elementary school that I found in my mother’s things. My grandparents aka Nanny and Poppy received cards from friends they kept in touch with from the days they lived in Montgomery. Often these were photograph cards. Because they kept the past years cards in a brass Chinese bowl on a table in the front room, under the table actually, I watched some stranger kids grow up from year to year.
When I grew up and moved out of Detroit I started sending and receiving cards. When we didn’t have a mantle we displayed them across the top of the bookcase that ran across one side of the living room. The years two of my daughters had paper routes we had lots of cards. For some reason I’ve saved these along with the family and friend cards. Every year when I go through them I think I should glean these but I don’t.
Cards in brass bowl
Ruff Draft Nov/Dec 1994
For five or six years when we were homeschooling our family put out a monthly newsletter. It gave the kids a chance to use their writing skills and gave the family and friends a chance to see that they weren’t growing up illiterate. We would add a Christmas message on the back page. That is about as close to a Christmas letter as I got.
The most meaningful card I’ve saved over the years is the last one my mother-in-law, Theola Davenport Williams, sent me the Christmas before she died. It included a letter on the inside. I re-read it every holiday season. I wish we had traveled to St. Louis that season to visit but we didn’t.
When I was growing up we had the ornaments that my mother bought over the years. I don’t remember making decorations in school. Maybe because the elementary school I attended was mostly Jewish or maybe in the 1950’s we didn’t make decorations. I don’t know. We didn’t string popcorn or cranberries. Wait! I think i remember a construction paper chain my sister and/or I made. It was short in length and in use.
Daughter and granddaughters hard at work
In 2008 my sister and I decided to get our children and grandchildren together and decorate ornaments for the Christmas tree. I ordered clear plastic bulbs and craft paint and brushes. My sister offered her house. On the appointed day we gathered for pizza, eggnog and decorating. The table in the dining room was covered, another table was set up, t-shirts and aprons went on over clothes and the fun began. Everybody, including interested adults, painted several ornaments. They popped open and the insides were painted then the ornament was popped back together. You can see in the photo that they were bright, clear, colorful. Unfortunately what you don’t see is that the paint never dried. It puddled on the bottom of the ornament and if there were multiple colors, which there often were, the puddle turned a muddy brownish/gray. We hung them on the trees anyway and packed them away hoping they’d look better the next year. They didn’t, although I think they were dry. I wonder what the grandchildren remember about it. I’ll have to check this year.
This is the Dec. 2 entry for the GeneaBlogger Advent Calandar. Did your family or ancestors serve traditional dishes for the holidays? Was there one dish that was unusual?
For Christmas we ate the same thing we ate for Thanksgiving. When I was younger we always went to my mother’s parents for dinner. My mother’s sister and her three daughters would also be there, usually they rode with us. My mother’s parents were from Alabama and we had a pretty traditional southern meal of turkey with corn bread dressing with side dishes. My grandfather taught my grandmother to cook when they married and he always cooked the turkey himself in an old gas stove in the basement. It was one of those with the long legs. With the turkey, we had candied sweet potatoes (no marshmellows!), rice, turnip or collard greens, corn pubbing and green beans. My grandmother made her salad, which was great but I would never make. She cut up lettuce and onions very tiny and added lots of mayonaise. There was a relish plate with carrot and celery sticks, olives and tomatoes and always fresh, hot biscuits.
They ate an early dinner and when we left there we would go to my paternal grandparents and have desert. There would be sweet potato or pumpkin pie and mince meat pie and fruitcake. The pies were homemade. The fruitcake was store bought. These were served with store bought eggnog and lots of political discussion. My other cousins would be there and we had another bunch of gifts to open.
For several years we ate dinner at home and we had the same things except no greens and no Nanny’s salad or biscuits. We also had macaroni and cheese and brown and serve rolls. My mother was a teacher and we did not have lots of Christmas baking. Perhaps a pie or two. I almost forgot the box of chocolate cherries and the large box of Sanders Miniature Chocolates. Wish I had a box coming this Christmas! Above is a shot of me, my mother and my sister posing with the remains of a turkey. Probably taken around 1962. I remember one traumatic Christmas when the oven was broken and my mother had to cook the turkey in a stand alone oven. Somehow a wire in the top touched the turkey while it was baking and left a greenish mark. My mother said we might all be poisoned and threw the whole turkey out! We “borrowed” some turkey from my grandmother and dinner went on but no leftover turkey for snacks.
