‘TIS THE SEASON TO BE JOLLY

                                                                 Eileen Cichello

 

We speak of it in hushed tones.  The more flippant among us refer to it as “Nightmare on Franklin Street.”  I’m talking about the Cichello Christmas of 1994.    Every family has had at least one holiday like this.

Living in our home on Franklin Street at the time were my husband Sam and me, our son Paul, back from two years in the Peace Corps and Jainaba and Sainabou, African exchange students.

It started December 18, when our son Michael arrived home from grad school, sick with a respiratory illness.  Paul returned from a trip to Albany to visit his girlfriend Jen and brought her and our son John back with him.

December 20: John, Michael and Jen sally forth to get a Christmas tree.  They get one.  D.O.A.  This tree refuses to take water.  I keep telling myself, "It doesn’t look THAT bad!  Remember what’s important.  Remember the real meaning of Christmas.  Just don’t EVER leave the house with the tree lights on!”

I make batches of cookies and chex snacks.  All are eaten before the rest of the crew arrives.

December 21: Jen returns to Albany.

December 23: Daughter Teresa arrives with husband Mike Colucci and two sons from Michigan.  We get a call from our son Anthony, enroute from Boston with his wife Chris and their three kids.  Their car has broken down outside Boston; he’s calling from McDonald’s while a hose is being replaced; he’s hoping the car will get them to Weedsport.  They arrive around 10 P.M.  The car is in bad shape

December 24: Late afternoon, our daughter Mary arrives from Maryland with husband Tom Beck, their two sons and their dog, Bo.

We decide we’ll attend ten A.M. Mass Christmas Day.  I serve a fancy Christmas Eve fish dinner about 7 P.M.  The grandkids don’t eat much.... they don’t like fish.  The parents don’t eat much.  They’re too busy trying to get the kids to eat.

December 25: Mary and Tom are up from midnight on.  Their son Michael Beck has been crying nonstop with an earache.  Paul is awake all night, as their bedroom is inside his room.  Mary is on the phone for an hour trying to find ANY alternative to a trip to the emergency room.  She locates a walk-in medical center in Syracuse that’s open today.  Tom, bleary-eyed, nursing a cup of coffee, says to me, “It doesn’t get much better than this.”

Anthony and Chris have been up much of the night with 18 month old Teresa, who’s thrown up several times.  Most of us get to 10 A.M. Mass, then it’s home to open gifts

It’s mid afternoon when Mary and Tom return home with Michael.  His ears are badly infected.  They’d stopped to fill the prescription at the only drugstore open in Syracuse on Christmas day.  “Man, it was ugly in there!” Tom tells us.  “The place was full of senior citizens buying Christmas decorations at half-price.  You didn’t want to mess with them!”

December 26: It’s 4:00 A.M.  Mary is out walking their dog Bo, who’d been whining to go out.  Now all Bo wants to do is play and run around.  “To heck with this, “ Mary says and drags Bo back inside.

It’s now 7 A.M.  Teresa’s husband Mike and our son Anthony are vegging out in the TV room upstairs.  A horrible odor drifts up.  Neither one says anything.  Anthony covers his head with a blanket.  Mike finally goes down to investigate.  “Oh shit!” is heard.  Finders keepers.  Mike cleans up.

10:00 A.M.: Our daughter Claire and husband Steve arrive with their puppy Smokey.  Steve, nicknamed “Uncle Cheesehead” by his nieces and nephews since he appeared last year in a hard hat with holes like Swiss cheese, produces foam wedges for each of the kids to wear on their heads, with a mega wedge for himself.  He promptly forms The Cheesehead Club, appointing himself president.  They all march through the house.  More gifts are opened, then Mary and Tom leave with their boys and dog.

December 27: Tony Colucci throws up during the night.

Steve leaves with Anthony’s wife Chris, who has to get to Boston for a christening.  Claire stays so she can have a longer visit with the family.  Later she says, “I knew I’d made a mistake the minute the car pulled out of the driveway.”

Anthony takes his car to a local garage.  The diagnosis comes back a day later:  “Junk it!”

Chris calls.  She’d thrown up on the way to Boston.

Steve calls.  He doesn’t feel good.

Anthony’s daughter Bridget goes to her Weedsport best friend’s house for an overnight.

December 28: 2:00 A.M.  It’s my turn.  I dash between bed and bathroom for 9 hours, stay in bed for most of the day.  Son Michael goes to the doctor...he has a sinus infection.  Son Paul is feeling queasy.  Husband Sam is sick and gets into pajamas.

Bridget returns from her friend’s house in mid-afternoon, walks in the door and wails, “I don’t feel good,” and throws up all over the floor.  Her 18 month old sister Teresa comes running at this exciting development and keeps trying to get at the intriguing mess on the floor.

Mary calls.  She'd thrown up from midnight to 11:00 A.M.  Her husband Tom says they’re never coming back to Weedsport.

Claire roams the house like E.T. moaning, “I wanna go home.  I wanna go home.”  Our daughter Teresa warns her sons,  “Stay away from Grandma.  Stay away from Grandpa.  Stay away from Bridget, from Uncle Michael, from Uncle Paul...” There are whisperings of getaways in the night.

Those who are able celebrate Tony’s third birthday with cake, candles and presents.

December 29: We loan Anthony our van and Claire leaves with him and his three kids.  “I don’t care who I go with,” Claire says. “I’m in the first car out of here heading to Albany.”  Sammy, Anthony’s son, throws up twice on the way.  When they stop and open the van door, the wind rips the paneling so the door no longer works properly.

Teresa and Mike leave with their sons.

Our sons Michael and Paul leave for Albany.  Michael drops Paul off and continues on to Boston, where he’ll stay with Anthony and Chris.

Nobody kisses or hugs anybody as they leave.

December 30: Claire calls.  She’s in bed for the day.  Steve doesn’t feel good.

Here at the house, John has a queasy stomach.  Sam is in bed for the day.  In Boston, Chris’ Dad visits Anthony and Chris.  He gets sick.

December 31: Claire still in bed.  Reports from Boston saying, “Michael’s sick.  He looks awful.”  Sam still in bed.

January 1: Further reports on how terrible Michael looks.

January 2: We take our son John to the airport for a 6 A.M. flight to Texas.  He still feels queasy.  Michael still sick, Paul okay, Anthony sick...

Well, at least Jainaba and Sainabou stayed healthy.  Since this was their only experience of an American Christmas, I wonder how they described it when they got back home to Africa!