Memories From Nana

An interview with Nana by Lady Olivia

In the corner of the small living room sat a sad Christmas tree, decorated with far less ornaments than the one shown in this photo. To conserve electricity, we were only allowed to turn on a revolving color lamp in the evenings.

The year was 1960 and I was the oldest of five children. Times were uneasy. Our parents had divorced and my mother, without a high school education, had gone to work as a butcher’s assistant in a nearby grocery store. She walked to and from her job each day. Before and after school, I was the surrogate mother.

This Christmas, the siblings were not all together since we were separated by a custody agreement earlier in the year. In the evening, harmony and togetherness were needed. We would wrap ourselves in grandmother’s quilts as we sang Christmas carols from an old, but treasured book while we watched the tree turn red, yellow, and green as the light turned. We tried to remember why we were celebrating and cast our concerns for gifts aside.

Finally, the big day arrived. We each received a little doll and one board game to share. But the big gift was when our other two sisters walked in the door. They were home. It was a merry Christmas after all. Later that day, we made our way to the small Missionary Baptist Church down the street and celebrated the reason this day was special. Indeed, special all around.