the worst Christmas ever.

For a few reasons, I am inclined to write about the worst Christmas ever. There have been a couple of bad ones. But this was, in my memory, the worst.

We were all living on Ave G., in Austin. I was pretty young. Eleven or so. When I say 'we were all' - I mean that it was the original family. Before divorce, before we started splitting up. My dad, and step-mother (who was my mom for all practical purposes, I didn't have another), me, my 2 brothers, Robert and Marcus, and our half siblings, Alice , Paul and Emily - in that order.

I wish that I could take you into that world. I wish I could without writing an entire novel about it. My dad, our dad, was going back to school for his PHD in English. Our mother was having babies and going to U.T. as well. She was a painter, and studying early childhood education. They were in love. Despite all of the fighting, and our poverty. They were in love. My father was a photographer, he had black and white photos of us up all over the house. In the hall by their bedroom was a black and white photo of our mom, topless, in the park, wearing her John Lennon glasses, her hair in braids, looking very young and smart and sexy.

My parents always had a big bookcase right in the living room with books, photo albums, and the bottom 2 shelves were devoted to their records. My dad had the top shelf - jazz, classical, opera. My mom had the very bottom shelf. Fellini soundtracks, Billy Holiday, Joni Mitchell, the Beatles, The Stones,Rick James, Edith Piaf, etc.

They had great parties. Even with six kids. My dad's best friend was another English guy at U.T. - the guy who played "Leatherface" in Texas Chainsaw Massacre. But in real life,his name was Gunnar Hansen, and he was a kitten. Sometimes he got drunk and I would find him on our couch the next morning. Or even a couple times on the porch swing out side. When Star Wars came out - all of my parents' friends were obsessed with it. They went to a big Star Wars party - and I remember thinking it was the coolest thing in the world to watch them get dressed up, especially when my sexy aunt Annie came over dressed as Princess Lea. This may have even been before THAT Christmas.

We had a big, old house that my grandmother - the same one that sent me to Interlochen - bought for us. For me, it was a little bit of heaven because I had my own room, way up in the attic. Attached to the attic. It was blazing hot in the summer, and pretty cold in the winter, but I didn't care. I got to get away from everyone up there - hide out with the squirrels in that big pecan tree that was growing right outside and UP TO my windows. My step-mom let me paint it violet. She guided me away from a gaudy purple color and towards a very light, soft violet. I loved that room. I could read all night up there without getting caught. And I did.

It was coming on Christmas time, and we were all getting excited. I remember, earlier in the month, a pretty funny thing happened with my little brother, Marcus.

We had this clutch of bushes on the side of the house that we called a fort. The bigger kids. There was a little hollowed out space in the middle that we could hide in, make plans in. Also, it was a great place for finding rose quartz. And, early in December, just as it was getting really cold, Robert and I dared our little brother, Marcus for a dollar.

We took him in the 'fort' and put it to him thusly; "OK. We have a proposition. WE will give YOU a whole dollar.." (Robert held up the dollar to show him we were serious) "if YOU will do something OUTRAGEOUS."
"What do I have to do?", Marcus asked timidly. He was the runt of us bigger three. The little brother we could always hear calling, "Wait for me!"
Robert looked at me,and our neighbor, Brad, knowingly. The four of us were inseparable in those days.
Brad took up the lead "OK." he said. "Here's the deal..." he bent over and whispered into Marcus' ear.
"No WAY?!" said Marcus.
"YES WAY!" said Brad and Robert. Marcus looked to me, I was often his savior, but this time I was in on the evil plot.I nodded 'yes', then removed myself from the 'fort', jumping up and down in the cold and breathing hard so that I could see the little cloud of smoke come out of my mouth. I contemplated whether or not it was worth it to stay out there. He wouldn't go through with it! It was COLD out there.
Then the bushes shook and I was joined by Brad and Robert, rubbing their hands in delight.
"He's gonna DOOO it! " they practically sang with glee.

Before any of us had a moment to prepare for the event, our little brother, skinny and white as all get-out, came streaking out of the bushes with a high-pitched yowl - naked as the day he was born.He ran into the street, stopping one car, as I remember it, jumping up and down screaming like a banshee!
It all seemed like it happened in slow motion, but super fast, too. I felt like I didn't have time to shut my wide open mouth and transition from gawking at his little rubber penis flapping around, to letting the belly-laugh rip that was just about bursting from my seams before our mother came running out the front door, yelling like nobody's business at all of us!
"Are you all CRAZY!?" she yelled. "What the hell got into YOU?" she directed at Marcus as she swooped him up with one arm and whisked him inside faster than any of us could ever believe.

A couple minutes later , she was lecturing us all as she was ironing in the dining room.
"Would you like to tell me what that was all about?"she said, sternly.
"WE didn't tell him to run out into the street neked...." Robert started to say.
"NEKED???!!!" Sheila seemed like she was about to burst a gasket. That word sent her off five times more than Marcus actually doing it, apparently. "NEKED!!??" she repeated. "What ARE you, hillbillies? Your FATHER is an ENGLISH teacher! The WORD is NAKED! Don't you EVER let me catch you saying 'neked' again! Do you UNDERSTAND this? And what in God's name? Sending your little brother out in the freezing cold! AND in the street! He could have been KILLED!"she looked at us all with a withering look. Marcus had been sent to bathe and get into his PJ's. "And let me tell you - you (she pointed at Robert) had BETTER give him his dollar!"

The lesson I mulled over that evening in my little attic bedroom was this. 1:don't sound like a hillbillie. 2: don't send your little brother into the street when it's freezing and he could get run over by a car. 3: don't welch on your bets.

A couple of weeks later, the week before Christmas, it happened.

Our little brother, Paul, got very, very sick. He had to go to the hospital. My brothers and my sister, Alice, were sent to Dona Hilda's in San Antonio.(our Cuban grandmother) My parents were at the hospital night and day. I was all alone. I was left behind 'to help'.
Mostly, I was just scared. I stayed up in my room reading Dickens every minute that I could.
Then, my father asked me to go and get a Christmas tree with him.

As we were getting our warm things on, he said to me very seriously,"Jennifer, your little brother might die."
I heard a catch in his voice, and I wanted to be so strong for him. I nodded, and tried to be brave like the heroes in my books.

We got the tree and brought it back home. Putting it in the stand involved some sawing, and some nails. We had the tree sort of hanging off the front porch, so that we could work on the bottom bit. I wasn't strong enough to hold the tree while my dad was trying to saw it straight across.
It went every which way.
"Damn it." my father said over and over again "Damn it to hell!"


Then it came to the part where we had to hammer some nails into it. I didn't know what I was doing.I don't remember exactly what happened after that, but I do remember this - I remember it so clearly that my face turns red just thinking about it. I did something wrong, and my father lost his temper on me. He lost it big time.
"No daughter of mine doesn't KNOW how to Hammer a FUCKING NAIL!" he yelled at me as he let lose and started whaling on me. His big hand landed across my face and just kept going. He pounded and pounded on me, yelling the whole time.I ended up curled in a ball, trying to protect myself, hiding my face from his blows. When he was done yelling , he picked me up and threw me across the yard.
I was no stranger to blood coming out of my nose from these kinds of incidents, or from my lips. But somehow, this one hurt worse. It hurt my heart worse. It was supposed to be Christmas. That was normally a happy respite in our house.
But there was also a part of me that just felt for him. I could tell how worried he was.He thought my baby brother was going to die. My mother hadn't been back for days from the hospital. Things must be pretty bad. And Paul was such a cute little boy. White blonde hair and brown eyes, such a sweet,sweet little angel of a boy.

That evening, my sexy, fun aunt Annie came over and rescued me. Everyone else was at the hospital. I was crying so hard - still - that I could hardly breathe. She ran her hand down my back and smoothed my hair.
"Oh, honey." she said. "They're all just so worried. They're worried sick. Look, why don't you and I go down and make some Christmas cookies, hu? We've got the kitchen all to ourselves...?"

Aunt Annie and I made Christmas cookies and listened to Joni Mitchell's 'Blue'. It was the night before Christmas Eve, and I kept breaking into tears as we made the cookies. The damn Christmas tree still wasn't up.

Eight years later, my little brother, Paul, died in a car accident.My mother was taking the younger kids to Santa Fe for Thanksgiving. The guy who was driving fell asleep at the wheel,Paul flew out of the car, and his neck was snapped instantly.

I was in Dallas with my new baby, Max.
I had woken up in the middle of the night to a horrible nightmare. Max's father said, "It's ok. it's just a dream. Go back to sleep."
Then, early the next morning, the phone rang.
I've always had this thing with phones.
As soon as I heard the ring - I was snapped back into that nightmare.
It was my beautiful Aunt Annie on the line. Before she could finish explaining what had happened , I let out a wail..."NOOOOO!" I screamed "NOOOOO!"

No. No. No. No. My little brother had made it through that horrible Christmas to become a strong, handsome, headstrong ten year old - only to be taken away on Thanksgiving a few years later.