…The fragments fly apart and shift, trembling
On the threshold of a kind of fullness:
The minor wonder of remembering;
The greater wonders of forgetfulness.For one looks back as someone else might yearn
For a new life, and set his course upon
The polestar, bid his adieus, and move on.
The journey takes a solipsistic turn,Forsaking starlight for an inner glow,
–from John Koethe's "What the Stars Meant"
And reducing all human history,
All human culture—highbrow, middle-, low-—
To one reflecting surface, one story. …
When it came to the holidays, Grandmother Maggie always knew just how to make every single detail sing. She had my grandfather raise the “Joy” flag in their front yard each December. Her dining room table was decorated with an apple cone she made of fresh apples, babies breath, and cloves. She & my grandfather hosted a legendary annual Christmas Eve Egg Nog Party for all their friends and neighbors. Gift wrapping continued well into the wee hours after that party, and she made sure Christmas was full of surprises - for children and adults alike. Thanks in no small part to her childlike enthusiasm for the season, I will always love the buzzing energy, excitement, and spirit of hope and celebration in December’s air.
If you asked me to come up with one wish, it would be that Matt and Charlotte could know Grandmother Maggie - I am her namesake, after all. Matt has picked up on her weight in my life by now and I hope to be able to have Charlotte learn how much this one woman means to the person I am.
My grandmother died in November of 1996, a little more than a month shy of her 73rd Christmas. Not one Christmas has passed since that felt quite right.
Last February, a package arrived at our little apartment in Brooklyn; a long delayed package that the post office had attempted to deliver but had been returned to the sender, our good friends the Thomases in Omaha. My brother, sister, and I grew up with Johnny, Chris, and Geoff Thomas in our earliest years in Omaha. Chris now lives in Brooklyn and we are great friends and see each other regularly. John & Gretchen (patriarch and matriarch, respectively) keep in touch and the whole family is near and dear to us.
The package that was shipped in December finally arrived in our hands last February, after being redelivered to Chris. Chris and Charlotte and I met for lunch and he handed off the package, not knowing what his mom had so carefully packed, shipped, and re-shipped. All we knew was that it was “irreplaceable” and we “had to have it!” Charlotte and I walked home with the light box under my left arm, my right hand holding up the hood on Charlotte’s winter bear suit against the cold weather.
We arrived home and set the wrapped gift aside, waiting for Matt to come home so we could all open it together. When he arrived, he opened the box, with Charlotte on his lap, and read aloud Gretchen’s card.
Charlotte & Matt, unwrapping the gift
“Dearest Charlotte,
Many Christmases ago, your Great-Grandmother Maggie sent an unexpected gift to the Thomas family that I have never forgotten. What a nice lady, I thought! She hardly even knows us. But I guess she must have just known that we loved your family.
Each year since, I have removed it from its place of careful packing and placed it among the season’s treasures with a smile and thought of her. But more recently, I have looked forward to sending it to you so that you could receive an unexpected gift as well.
And so…Lots of love to you, Sweet Charlotte, From and for many generations to come.
Your Great-Grandmother Maggie Steele & Gretchen”
Never in my dreams did I imagine Charlotte would be able to receive a Christmas present from Grandmother Maggie, the Queen of Christmas. Yet, here it was, 13 years after her death, on our kitchen table in Brooklyn, next to my sweet girl’s tiny hands; the thing I wished for more than anything was real.
This little gesture; first, by my grandmother more than 20 years ago, and then by Gretchen, elicited an intensely visceral response from me. Maggie Steele was a force for style and love and energy and she created so much good in our lives. I can’t even begin to tell you the wonder of Christmases at my grandparents’, or of the love and pride she felt for my brother, sister, and me. We all need someone like that in our lives - someone who not only supports us unconditionally, but sings our praises, unasked.
The Royal Doulton Santa mug stays out year round, the way Maggie Steele’s framed eggnog recipe does, a reminder of the joy, happiness, and wonder in the world and - most importantly - the magic of Christmas my grandmother so fervently believed in and worked so hard to spread.
Not a day passes now that I don’t look at that Santa mug on our kitchen shelf. Charlotte is quite taken with it. Maybe it’s the full white beard, or the sweet sparkling eyes, but all I see is my grandmother every time I look at that little red and white smiling face.
(you can visit this site for the full text of John Koethe’s beautiful poem “What the Stars Meant”)
Gorgeous post, Maggie! What a treasure. You’re surrounded by inspirational women, and I count myself lucky to bask in their glow.
Joy, indeed!