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The sweater

And Christmas Dinner

By Sherry CortesPublished about a year ago 4 min read
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The sweater
Photo by Mediamodifier on Unsplash

It all started with a sweater. It was a present from my aunt Ellen to my aunt Janet, the oldest to the youngest of my three aunts. It was beautiful. Soft, ivory cashmere that felt like a newborn puppy's fur. We had all exchanged gifts at the end of our usual huge Christmas feast, and this particular Christmas stuck out to me the most, not just because of the sweater, but it was also the last Christmas we had with my grandparents. Ed and Mildred, or Millie as grandpa liked to call her. I remember my mom saying "when you came along, pops turned into a different person." I asked what she meant by that and she said, "Pops would have never allowed any of us to sit on his lap and read to us or let us play with the organ. That was his most prized possession."

My fondest memories of grandpa were me cuddled on his lap while he read me Pinocchio and smoked his pipe, or while I sat beside him at his organ and he would show me what all the little knobs were and what they did. Even though I wasn't big enough to reach the pedals he would do it for me and have me hit a few keys to make the rich music pour forth from the instrument.

Our family tradition was to gather at one of our houses every year and celebrate the holidays. Thanksgiving that year had been at our house in New Jersey and Christmas was held at my aunt's house on Long Island. The same aunt who had given my aunt the sweater. It was warm and toasty inside, although outside a blizzard was roaring (very unusual for December, even in the North East). All of the adults were well into their cups, my Uncle Walter pulling out his hilarious (and more than mildly offensive impressions and jokes) not to mention making very inappropriate items out of napkins. My little sister and cousin were sitting at their own table, but this year, this year, I got to sit at the adult's table. I was dressed to the nines, in my favorite red corduroy dress with white stockings (which I hated, struggling not to squirm too much as they itched. But my mom insisted I wear stockings, saying it was too cold to be running around without them.

Still, I was going to be on my best behavior, not wanting to be booted over to the kids' table. My head was on a swivel, turning from one conversation to another, inserting myself into one conversation when it didn't look like I was paying attention to it. My stepdad was always amazed by this skill of mine, but I'm sure it was because I had been raised by an Italian and a Hispanic family. Being able to handle multiple conversations at the same time was part and parcel of being a Cortes/Russo.

When it came time for the present opening, I eagerly handed out the presents to my various relatives. My aunt opened her present and was appropriately pleased, but that was the weird thing about my family. Despite being very demonstrative in other aspects of our lives, accepting presents was a quieter matter, and she smiled at my aunt Ellen and thanked her for the beautiful gift. I of course piped up and said aunt Jan should try it on, but that was another thing about the women of our family.

We preferred to try on our clothing in private, inspect it, decided it either a) looked great and we were going to keep it, or b) didn't suit our bodies and would assure the gift giver that it was perfect, and then never wear it.

My aunt merely shook her head and put her sweater aside and turned to the other gift opening around the table. Of course, my sister and cousin came running over as soon as they heard the paper crinkling, looking for their gifts. I informed them with all the authority my twelve year old self could that this was the "adult" present opening, and that we would get our presents on Christmas morning. Of course, my aunts and grandparents had little gifts for them to open then (a little bracelet for my sister, and a necklace for my cousin). It was at that time my aunt Ellen decided to show off the sweater she had gotten aunt Janet, and she whipped it out.

It would have been a great reveal, except when she held it aloft, she didn't notice it was too close to one of the candles on the table. Well, you can guess what happened next. The gorgeous sweater went up faster than the California countryside and everyone sat in shock until my uncle Walter grabbed the nearest liquid his could find-his glass of red wine. It did the trick, but now the gorgeous sweater was not only charred, but it was thoroughly ruined.

We sat there in stunned silence until my aunt Ellen started laughing. It took a moment for us to all realize this was probably one of the funniest things to happen at a Cortes/Russo dinner ever. So we all joined in, laughing until we cried, as aunt Janet held up the sweater and showing it off in front of herself.

"Hope you got the gift receipt for this, El."

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About the Creator

Sherry Cortes

My first experience getting trouble in school was in 3rd grade when I was caught reading The Black Stallion during math class. Instead of punishing me, my parents got me the whole Black Stallion series and encouraged my reading.

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