When I was just a little girl holidays always had my “Gaga” in the background…she was the cinnamon roll maker, the perfect bow creator, the holiday table decorator. Now at 49andcounting, I replay those images in my mind, and as I push play on the CD of Christmas music, I am thankful for the memories she made.
My Gaga was the image of class and grace. Admist five grandchildren whooping and hollering, she always had Christmas music playing low in the background of her kitchen, decorated the table with fine china and crystal, candles and flowers on a lace tablecloth. Oranges and bananas on Christmas morning were sliced just “so, so” and laced with powdered sugar. I remember seeing her when I first peeked in the kitchen in a soft, pink chenille houserobe… washing the turkey or rolling out cinnamon rolls. By the time the table was set and water goblets were filled, she was dressed elegantly, in a pantsuit, and smelled of Este Lauder.
When Gaga arrived for Christmas, she would come with piles of gifts wrapped in shining, silver paper with huge red bows. We all knew they were definitely “city” gifts from the department store, like Wiley’s or Peguee’s. Gorgeous in contrast to our hand wrapped “Ben Franklin” gifts. One year she even took the time to wrap gifts in red velvet, with vintage lace. As I slap together the umpteenth gift, or even stuff one in a gift bag, I think of Gaga and the time she took to make each present beautiful.
Her home, at Christmas, was decorated with greenery and fancy floral arrangements. And I believe her tree was the first I ever saw with just white lights. I came from a home with multi-colored lights and tinsel slung on by kids! I remember hearing whispers one year that she had the florist come to her house and make the fancy arrangements.
When Gaga walked in the door to our home of hubub and love, love that 5 kids can bring…she perfectly blended, in a gentle quiet way, her peace, grace and elegance, and left to this 49andcounting kid, wonderful memories and a legacy to pass on.