I come from a big ass Mormon large family. Not only do I have three brothers and two sisters, but I also have a large extended family on my Mom’s side. Her parents, my grandparents, had 8 children, 50 grandchildren and well over 100 great grandchildren.
My grandparents, Karel and Fim, immigrated to the SL,UT, from the Netherlands as a young couple. All of their children were born here, which makes me a second generation American, on that side. (My Dad’s side of the family is much smaller, mostly Danish with a mix of ‘other’ European and we’ve never had much contact with them.) All of my grandparents, both sides, have passed away. The last one to go, my Grammy (Fim) died in January 1991, when I was only 20. I miss both of them, but I have great memories.
Around this time of year, I always remember the family Christmas parties we had when I was growing up. Because the family was so large, we always had to have the party in a church ward house. When we arrived, we’d take our shoes off and line them up in the hallway. The Aunts would be in the kitchen cooking up a storm. The kids would be running around like maniacs, to which the Aunts would yell at and threaten us. One Aunt, who shall remain unnamed, was always the meanest and when it was time for us to set the tables and serve the food, she seemed to never ask any of her kids to help, but we had to. I’m not the only one to complain about this. Trust me. I have no clue what the men of the family did. We never paid attention to them.
After the big meal, we’d gather around the piano and sing Christmas songs, horribly out of tune. We learned and sang Dutch songs and would have to sing them loud enough to beckon Sinterklaas (the Dutch Santa Claus) and his Zwarte Piet (Black Pete). Eventually, they would come in (played by some of the cousins). We were always excited for Sinterklaas, but scared to death of Zwarte Piet. Good children got gifts, usually the traditional chocolate letter (your first initial) and Kruidnoten. Bad children were collected by Zwarte Piet and put in a bag to be taken away somewhere very bad. Now that I think of it, I don’t remember any child ever getting taken away, but we knew the story well enough to know it was possible, so it still scared the bejesus out of us.
Next, my Grandpa would sit at the base of the tree and hand out the other presents. We all had to sit far enough back to give him room and would get our asses handed to us if any of us dared touch the presents before he handed them out. He wasn’t the one to chew us out, it was once again the Aunts in charge of that.
Many years, a projector was set up and we would watch old home movies from past parties. Some times they would even get a “real” reel-to-reel Disney movie for us to watch. Anything to keep all those kids under control and let the adults enjoy some peace and quiet. And always games and raucous behavior in the gym. Sometimes we even had a pinata, because what is more Dutch than that!
At the end of the night, we would collect our shoes from the hallway. They would contain an orange and a sack of candy, that always included that gross hard ribbon candy. Blech! Sleepovers with my favorite cousins usually closed it all out.
I had a great childhood, full of lots of great memories, with an incredible family. My girls know the stories and we try to maintain as many traditions as possible. They’ve never pee’d their pants when Zwarte Piet came into the room, but they know what to do if he ever does. They’ve heard the Dutch Christmas songs and can’t wait for the Dutch breakfast we have at our family Christmas parties now and on Christmas morning. We’ve also started some of our own traditions. I can only hope that they look back and remember their childhood Christmas memories and smile, like I do.
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