Just a few years before I was born, my paternal grandfather died on Christmas Eve. I was the only one of the kids who never met him (I don’t even have a picture of him), though my cousin Debbie wouldn’t remember him since she was only about six weeks old at the time (I know, Grandpa Carl really missed out because Debbie and I are delightful, much better than our stinky brothers).

After that, we always spent Christmas Eve with my paternal grandmother, and later also with my step-grandpa Virgil (who died about five years into their marriage on my dad’s birthday)—usually a full feast including turkey and dressing—and Christmas Day with my maternal grandparents—more low-key, and in later years featuring soup (Mitch called it Nanny’s Good Soup), chili and beans.

Those days are long gone now, but I’ll always cherish them. We kept up the tradition as long as we could, but as grandparents and parents died and kids scattered, it was just too hard to do, and new traditions replaced the old.

Mine for several years has been to spend the day with friends and/or cats I’m sitting; 2022 (when my car was totaled by a guy coming the wrong way out of a McDonald’s parking lot as I was coming off the interstate) and 2024 (after I broke and dislocated my left elbow and wrist) weren’t great holidays, but they’re memorable and cherished by me because they highlighted the kindness of my circle of friends (because, believe me, I can be a lot sometimes, especially when my anxiety and depression are kicking up and I’m feeling really down on myself). I’m spending this Christmas with the Queen Bees, Phoebe and Ruby, and am loving it and their sweet little chirps. They’re happy with cuddles and Christmas movies on the couch, and I’m happy to oblige.

I don’t have holly-jolly Christmases anymore, and I’m sure a lot of you don’t either; it’s hard to pull that off anymore, considering costs and distance unless you are far more comfortable financially than a lot of us, and political division has torn more than a few families. Still, I have my memories.

Not so much of gifts, though some stand out in my memory, like my first bike, which was only ridden with training wheels a few times before I insisted they be removed because the mean neighbor kids were making fun of me, and if my brothers could ride bikes without them, so could I. We never had much money, so gifts were never a big focus of our celebrations, especially once we were in our teens and older.

Mostly I remember family and friends who now I only get to see in my dreams—my grandparents, parents, brothers Corey and Mitch, nephew David, friends Jennifer and Danny, and so many more. I remember the hugs, the laughter, even a few fights, and I feel their presence again. I woke with tears in my eyes Sunday because I dreamed of Danny, who died a few weeks before Mitch did this year, but they were happy tears because I got to hug Danny and tell him I loved him and missed him. It reminded me to cherish the time we have with those we love because you never know when that time will end.

And of course I remember the food. Nanny Kaylor’s Red Velvet Cake (if she made it as a layer cake, she usually put chopped pecans on the sides of the cream cheese frosting instead of the crumbled cake most people do now). Nanny Terrell’s chocolate pie, which she made especially for Grandpa, and was the only dessert he wouldn’t do without. Mama’s cornbread dressing, which usually had chunks of chicken or turkey throughout; I usually make it on Thanksgiving and Christmas wherever I happen to be. As you read this, I’ll probably, between working on pages for Friday and beyond, be crumbling and drying out the cornbread I made Tuesday evening so I can put the mix together later (it’s a simple mix, relying on the cornbread, a little sourdough, sage and Italian herbs, onions, chicken and chicken broth; not only is it easy on the stomach for someone with IBS, I find simplicity usually wins out over the complex in food like this).

There are other memories, of sledding down the hill behind the church if it snowed (on a broken slide from our old swing set; none of those fancy sleds for us, plus there was barbed-wire fencing at the bottom, so we had to do some fancy steering or end up with scars like the one on my right jaw), making snowmen, and snowball fights. If it was a deep, clean snow, we’d make snow ice cream; I think the last time I did that was at least a decade ago, probably the last time we got a deep snow in the Little Rock area, and it just wasn’t the same, so I stick with pints from the grocery store.

But mostly I remember the love shared with family by blood and family by choice. Everyone could stand more of that, especially when so much seeks to divide us.

We get enough of that at the family dinner once someone says the wrong word (one year it was Obama, and the brother I no longer speak to launched into a long tirade, not noticing when people left the room or the house altogether; Mitch left to take a walk and that brother was still on a tear when he returned half an hour later). Can we just not?

My wishes for Christmas remain much as they always have: Peace, even if just for a little while. We should remember that we’re all in this together, and that compromise and co-existence aren’t bad things, but the very things that will ensure our continued existence on this planet. Stop listening to those who wish to divide us over religion, politics and other things that in the end amount to little, and listen to that little voice that tells you to be a better person because, honestly, that’s all that really matters. Life isn’t a zero-sum game, no matter how many people try to make it that way.

As always, I’d like for more of us to return to reality and objective truth … which logically have no partisan bias. Provable facts and evidence should always take precedence over politics and feelings, and especially over any sense of retaliation born out of the belief that someone else’s mere existence is an affront. Even if someone you admire tells you something, don’t be disinclined to check if it’s really true because in a lot of cases now, it’s just not. AI isn’t helping either, with so many videos out there that can make something appear true that’s not, so be wary, and watch for red flags (like things that disappear and reappear) when watching videos (news and live coverage are generally more reliable, depending on the source, but be cautious with news sources that use AI or use unrelated video and claim it’s something else).

And more than anything, I wish for love: for all of you, for your critters, and especially for those who don’t think that they’re worthy of love. If you’re kind to your fellow humans, and you think of others before yourself, you’re more than worthy.

Merry Christmas to all!