I think about this day from time to time. It’s easy to remember specific details on two accounts. First, it was the night of my Brother Paul and Janet’s engagement party. The festivities took place at chez DeLaurentis and featured a quantity of food that would have rivaled anything that could have been mounted at 25 Alston Ave. With regard to food, clearly Mrs. D and Mommie Soph were cut from the same cloth.
Second, it was a night of a snow storm of near blizzard proportions. By 9:00PM we had well over a foot on the ground. This was New Haven, CT… not Stowe, VT.
Here it is, I live in Connecticut… New England. New England with all those winterly traditions… going to grandmother’s house, the horse and sleigh, the bells… and snow of course! And around Christmas this powerful image gets reinforced in drawings (Currier & Ives) and song (White Christmas)… the trouble is that in 58 years of living in Connecticut I can only remember one Christmas where we had a significant snow. Sure, there were other years (and not many of them!) when there may have been a piddling of snow… or perhaps an “old snow” that had fallen two weeks before and had lingered to the 25th. But not a real snow of lore and legend.
Just one… 1966.
And here is the irony. There are folks who live in San Diego, or in Houston, or in Orlando and they are envious of us folks who can enjoy a Christmas with snow… “gee, you’re lucky you live in Connecticut… you get to enjoy a Dickens Christmas, roasting chestnuts by the fire, steaming plum pudding and snow.” Little do they know.
Just one… 1966
Now, on the Eve that I am describing… after stretching my stomach to its maximum capacity, I took my leave and drove home thru the beating storm (my parents must have been out of their minds to let me do that… even I wouldn’t let me do that. It’s even possible that I hitched a ride with someone else returning to Alston Avenue). The ride back wasn’t all that far… city streets in New Haven, no major hills. No traffic, not a snowplow in sight… it was Christmas Eve, after all. Just drive slow. And I had one thing in mind… to convince my buddy Gary Moss to drive down from Woodbridge so that we could go sledding. Not to some golf course, mind you… but down the steep hill of Edgewood Avenue. A city street, unplowed, no traffic… at night, with a driving snow in clear evidence in the pyramid of light coming from the street lights… and it was Christmas Eve. We made a couple of runs down the center of the street… the thickness of the snow slowed our descent. Still, it couldn’t get better. Something straight out of a Currier & Ives woodcut.
Couldn’t get better, that is, unless you take into account another detail. Earlier in that day Mommie Soph would have driven over to Eld St. This is where the Chipp tailors worked to make our “bespoke” tailor made suits. Mommie Soph was my father’s emissary to the tailoring shop’s Christmas party. Since food was involved, it was only natural that she should take on this task. Provisions fell into 4 categories: Deli, from M&T and would include roast beef, pastrami, corned beef, tongue, turkey, sour tomatoes, half sour pickles, potato salad and coleslaw. Pastries from Lucibello’s in Hamden, this included every known Italian pastry in the world. Pizza, from Pepe’s on Wooster St. (and I’m not going to get into an argument here over Pepe’s vs. Sally’s). And finally whisky. My Father would have provided an extra case of Scotch that was to be given to Toplitsky… he was the head of the Tailors’ Union in New Haven, and he was always sure to pay a visit on Christmas Eve (and not leave ’til he killed a bottle of his stash). This was in the day when relations between management and union were not as contentious as they are today. Everyone had to live… and my Dad just figured that living was a little bit easier with a little whisky to warm Toplitsky’s soul.
This tailors’ party would not have been exclusive to 1966, although it certainly would have taken place then, so I feel comfortable adding it to the memory of the day. It should also be noted that leftovers from the tailors’ party always found their way to 25 Alston Avenue. Mommie Soph always made sure there were plenty of leftovers, and December 24, 1966 would not have been different (I think after eggs benedict, Pepe’s cold pizza is my favorite before noon food).
I can imagine that after a half hour or so of sledding, Gary and I would have repaired back to my house to shake off the cold and the snow and scarf down a cannoli to replenish the calories we had burned on Edgewood Avenue’s hill.
I was certainly passed the age of turning in early to let visions of sugar plums dance thru my head. This might not be accurate; but for the sake of this tale, let’s just say I finished off the evening by watching Reginald Owen’s version of The Christmas Carol (I would switch my allegiance to Alastair Sim’s version some years later).
A great evening.
I am sitting in our kitchen in Woodbury at present… looking out to the horse farm on the far side of our split rail fence. The snow is over a foot deep and the fir tree boughs have a healthy coating of the white stuff. I love looking at snow almost as much as I love shoveling it, sledding in it… or just walking in it. The house in back has a ribbon of smoke curling into the grey sky… maybe it’s someone’s grandmother’s place? I am sure they could hitch up the spotted mare to a sleigh (which they do every now and then). Looking at the snow covered yard, the trees, the smoke drifting from a chimney, Christmas decorations twinkling thru a multi-paned window.. that’s about as Currier & Ives as I have seen since… since? Since 1966. Not that Gary and I spotted a horse and sleigh on Edgewood Avenue on December 24, 1966.
But we could have.
Happy Holidays to you all.