Both sets of grandparents (Red & Anne Hiller, above) have a special place on the Christmas tree each year.
As a child, every holiday season my parents would pack the station wagon with children, luggage and Christmas gifts and brave the eight hour journey from Michigan to our grandparent's home in Milwaukee. My Dad would wake us early, carry our pajama-clothed bodies to the warmed car and nestle us into cozy sleeping areas he made for each of us. No seat belts back then just comfort and, yet, somehow we managed to survive the trip. Not too far into the trip my Mom would open a thermos of coffee which instantaneously wafted throughout the vehicle. Each year, I would ask myself and sometimes even out loud "
Am I old enough to drink coffee out of that red thermos cap while driving to Milwaukee?"
And the answer was always "kids don't drink coffee". WELL....someone failed to inform my Grandma because upon arrival she would let me pour the Carnation Evaporated Milk from a can in the refrigerator into her hot, black cup of coffee, the creamy white swirls entrancing me and when she deemed the coffee "cool enough" I would get a sip. I decided waiting for Grandma's brew was much more satisfying anyway.
Harry & Marie Atwell.
Christmas Eve was always reserved for Dad's side of the family, usually held at his brother's or sister's home. Christmas Day was celebrated with Mom's side Grandpa and Grandma Hiller's and kicked off by attending mass at St. John The Evangelist Church and trying to understand Father Goulet's Slovenian accent. Both visits were magnificent - uncles, aunts, cousins, gifts, cookies and plenty of laughter and merriment! I only remember two occasions we didn't travel to Milwaukee, once when my siblings and I all had the chickenpox and the other when we were much older and thought we should stay at home. Both times we were miserable and disappointed we "missed out". So, I guess the moral of the story is to value our remaining holidays and the time we have left together so as not to feel like we "miss out" ever again. Merry Christmas!
Christmas card sent out by my great Grandpa & Grandma Penne, circa 1950's.
My great Grandma's handwriting. She never learned to speak English, only her native Slovene.