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Remembrance
A California Christmas
by Charles A. Coulombe
December 19, 2011
But my father was an alchemist—he could turn misery to joy by focusing on what we had rather than what we did not. There were the same tree ornaments we had had back home (some of which survive to this day at my brother’s house), and the same nativity scene; we attended the aforementioned Hollywood Christmas Parade (then called the Santa Claus Lane Parade); the four of us sang carols, and the Midnight Mass at Hollywood’s gorgeous Church of the Blessed Sacrament in those pre-Novus Ordo days was magnificent. The next day, there were presents under the tree and proof that Santa had arrived in the form of soot marks around the fireplace.
But my father was an alchemist—he could turn misery to joy by focusing on what we had rather than what we did not. There were the same tree ornaments we had had back home (some of which survive to this day at my brother’s house), and the same nativity scene; we attended the aforementioned Hollywood Christmas Parade (then called the Santa Claus Lane Parade); the four of us sang carols, and the Midnight Mass at Hollywood’s gorgeous Church of the Blessed Sacrament in those pre-Novus Ordo days was magnificent. The next day, there were presents under the tree and proof that Santa had arrived in the form of soot marks around the fireplace.
Read on.
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