A Christmas story, circa 2017

My nephew Doug proposed to his longtime girlfriend Heather on Friday night, in Brooklyn. She said YES! This is exciting news for our family, though not totally unexpected given they have been a boyfriend/girlfriend couple for more than five years and they live together out in San Francisco, where he has a great job with a Really Famous Company That You Have Definitely Heard Of (And Probably Even Ordered Stuff From, For Sure!). They’ve been out there for close to two years, so we only get to see them a few times a year. The excitement of their engagement has spread throughout the family, especially my mother, who eagerly anticipates her first grandchild wedding – not to mention, God willing, the arrival of her first great-grandchild, whenever that might be, if she is hopefully still around to witness such a blessing.

On Saturday night down in New Jersey, we had a partial family gathering to celebrate this occasion. We’re simple folks, and my mom isn’t all that mobile, so the celebration was a dinner at a local Friendly’s. En route to the restaurant, my mom shared with me a story that I had never heard before, about how my father proposed to her – 63 years ago on Christmas Eve. How this story slipped through the cracks of our family lore is beyond me. I’m certain none of us had heard it, and I’m certain my mother’s memory is intact when it comes to these things. In fact, since my father died in May of 2016, my mother has been unpacking the memories of their more than 60 years together with beautifully told stories, and a few tears to go with them. Such was the case with the engagement story.

My grandmother, my father’s mother, after whom our daughter Natalie was named, was a Christmas Baby – born at 2 a.m. on Christmas morning (the year of her birth remained a mystery until her death in 1986, and to this day is still shrouded in uncertainty). In any case, the family tradition was to toast the birth of Christ and the birth of my grandmother simultaneously. At 2 a.m. This tradition carried on through my childhood, as we had big family gatherings on Christmas Eve, which spilled late into the night for that 2 a.m. toast, amid much food, wine, walnuts and plenty of second-hand smoke. In December 1954, my mother had been dating my father for about 8 months – things moved fast back then! – and she was over his family’s house on Seymour Avenue in the Bronx on Christmas Eve/Christmas Day to toast her future mother-in-law. Everyone was there. The toast was made; my mother sipped her champagne. My father urged her to sip some more; she did. Sip some more, he implored! Hmmm, she thought, this champagne glass is dirty and stained at the bottom, I shouldn’t say anything? It wasn’t dirty. There was an engagement ring floating in the bottom of it. And that’s how my parents got engaged! Pretty neat story. Who knew?

So my mother was pleased to see the Christmastime engagement tradition rekindled, a few generations and many decades later, with her grandson. Upon arriving back at her room in the assisted living facility, Doug unveiled a special gift for his Nana, something he helped to develop at his Job At The Famous Company. An Amazon Echo Show, so that my mom, who has failing eyesight, can make voice activated calls and listen to music and ask questions of her mysterious new friend named Alexa. Doug did the setup and programmed it; she called me this morning on it, by saying, “Alexa, call Peter.” Thrilling. My 85-year-old mother has joined the 21^st Century. While setting it up, we showed her how Alexa can play any song you could think of. This led to some funny moments as my mother, whose native tongue is Italian, struggled with this. Her wedding song was “Three Coins in the Fountain.” Tell Alexa to play this, we urged!

Mom: “Electra, play Three Coins …”

All of us: No no no, it’s A-lex-a! With an “x”

Mom: “Oh, oh, OK. Alexi, play Three Coins …”

All of us: AlexA. With an “a”

Mom: “Alexa, play Three Coins …

And within seconds, magically, the little electronic cylinder was piping out a crooning Frank Sinatra, playing my parents’ wedding song. My mother sang along, remembering every word, and crying at this magical gift that she cannot possibly fathom.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.