Christmas Eve. Family holiday traditions. Customarily, our family would have hors d’oeuvre and exchange gifts around 5pm. The fight would begin shortly afterwards. Guaranteed. When I was a teenager and could drive, I’d escape to my friend Nick’s house where Christmas Eve was a much different and much more enjoyable scene. Here I am (note the slipper-socks), meticulously applying each piece of tinsel, one by one, back when it was still made of thin sheets of metal, not mirrored plastic or acetate or whatever it’s made from now. (My maternal grandmother told me that when my mother was a girl, she would take a handful of tinsel and throw the whole thing at the tree. Not me. I took very seriously the word “icicles” on the box, and icicles dangle one by one.)
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