Food, glorious food

Velma Roland Johnson, owner of Mama J’s Kitchen:

I laugh as I think back on Christmases past. You see, growing up, we were poor and didn’t know.

As the eighth child of 14 siblings living on Dobson Street, we’d all line up on the staircase eagerly waiting for my parents to say that we could go downstairs. The morning was magical, starting with the Christmas tree revealed for the first time.

This tradition was due to my father’s holiday thriftiness. He would wait until midnight to purchase a Christmas tree for a penny, then he and my mother decorated it all through the night.

Of course, at that time, I didn’t know any of this. I assumed that Santa Claus brought the tree along with the gifts – and rightfully so. In my house, if you didn’t believe in Santa Claus, you didn’t get gifts. So, I decided to believe in Old Saint Nick until I was in junior high school.

Upon the first sight of our living room’s transformation, we’d each rush to our makeshift Christmas stockings — personalized brown paper bags filled with loose Christmas candy, nuts and oranges. Then we’d make our way under the tree to open our gifts. They were modest and meant for sharing — nothing like the personalized lavish gifts my grandchildren receive nowadays.

We’d present our parents handmade gifts that we created at school. Then we’d run through the house and in the snow all day, stopping only to treat ourselves to homemade eggnog and fruitcake. My favorite!

My mother prepared dinner with the help of my grandmother, who fried homemade rolls in lard, while Daddy played oldies-but-goodies on his 78. At dinnertime, we’d all gather around a small table, converting a wooden ironing board into a bench to accommodate everyone before eating like royalty.

These are my fondest memories of Christmas that I will cherish forever.

Coming into ‘manhood’

Joseph Jenkins III, manager, Joseph Jenkins Jr. Funeral Home:

As a boy, if I could keep my eyes open, I often would wait up for my Dad, who worked late hours.

My senior year in high school, I had a part-time job and I thought I was “grown.”

Every Christmas Eve, my Dad would enjoy a Christmas nightcap. This particular year, I asked him if I could join him, to which he replied, “No.”

I responded that I was 18, had a part-time job and could drive.

“Dad, I’m a man!” I told him.

He thought, and then said I could pour a little Wild Turkey in a glass with a little Pepsi. I did this one, two and three times. I remember my little brother thinking it was cool and my Mom being furious. I also remember the room spinning.

I spent the next morning, Christmas, and most of the next day hugging the toilet.

My old man chuckled and asked, “What’s wrong son? You’re a man!”

Finding a ‘suitable’ tree

Finding a ‘suitable’ tree

Dorothy M. Eure, attorney:

My favorite Christmas memory revolves around my desire to have a live tree for Christmas.

When I was in college, I pestered my father to let us have a live tree. Finally, he relented, told me to get the saw, climb in the truck and we would go get a tree.

Foolishly, I thought he was taking me to a Christmas tree farm.

No.

He was taking me to the side of the interstate.

My father, a paraplegic, pulled over, told me to go down the hill next to an exit off of Interstate 64 and cut down a tree.

I was astonished, but I wanted that tree pretty badly. I clambered out of the truck with my saw in hand and found a “suitable” tree.

I lack perspective, and although the ceilings in our modest home only reached 8 feet, I thought a tree approximately 20 feet tall — everything looks smaller outdoors — would be about right. I sawed at the trunk for about 45 minutes and couldn’t get it down. It was a monster.

Meanwhile, my father was wondering what was taking so long (i.e., he was hoping a State Trooper wouldn’t pull up and arrest us).

I went back to the truck and told him I needed help. He still hadn’t seen the monster tree and assumed I was just weak.

We went and retrieved a male cousin to help me cut down the tree. It was so large that it took the two of us to haul it back to the truck. We hastily threw it in the back of the truck and quickly left the scene.

I actually had to saw the tree in half to fit it into our house. It was the most beautiful Christmas tree I have ever had, and, as crazy as my family is, I love them, this memory and my sweet father for giving it to me.

Counting blessings

Dr. Lucille M. Brown, former Richmond Public Schools superintendent:

Christmas has always been a special holiday for my family — the preparation, gift buying, decorating, beautiful music and the special church choir concert.

For half a century, it has been a family tradition to gather on Christmas Day to share fellowship and fun, to reaffirm our faith in Jesus Christ and to share gifts which symbolized caring and love felt for each other, as well as our hope for joy and bountiful blessings in the years ahead. The subsequent feeling of warmth and togetherness has remained with me as a cherished memory even until this day.

One of my most memorable Christmases was in 1999, when my late husband, Dr. Theodore “Coots” Brown Sr., a Richmond physician, had retired and was able to immerse himself more fully into preparing for the festivities of Christmas. Together, we had fun decorating the Christmas tree, placing candles in the windows and hanging wreaths to celebrate the season.

This was a special Christmas season for the immediate family. Stored in the archives of my most precious memories is the time spent that Christmas morning recalling Ted Sr.’s professional achievements and the gratitude he felt for having been able to do for 47 years what he had always wanted to do in life.

We also spent time reflecting on the goals established by our son, Ted Jr., who was then a graduate student at the University of Virginia. And we recalled students in the Richmond Public Schools whom I was privileged to be serving and who are now making contributions to make this a better world.

I am grateful that we also gathered with our extended family of siblings and other relatives to enjoy sharing at the family table for Christmas dinner. In our own way, we expressed gratitude for God’s bounty. This Christmas 1999 gave us another opportunity to enhance the bond of family with which we were blessed.

This time of reflection affirmed for us that Christmas 1999 was a most amazing and incredible time. We felt that our family was blessed to have each other, to love each other and to feel a closeness that adds joy to life. It was a time to share the season’s joy.

With a sense of gratitude, we celebrated God having sent His son Jesus Christ into the world. For this most precious gift, we were thankful. This Christmas 1999 experience gave me a feeling of assurance about the future because I knew that it was in God’s hands.

As you develop your own repertoire of special Christmas experiences, I hope that they will be filled with memories of good times with family, of peace, of hope and of love. These characterize my Christmas 1999, one of my most memorable ones.

Have a joyous Christmas 2015!

To Grandma’s house

Lauri Thompson, Yelp Richmond community manager:

The holidays: A time of year that brings the inner child out in all of us.

No matter how old you are, sledding down the steepest hill, opening presents and watching Christmas movies while curled up on the couch drinking hot chocolate (or eggnog that may or may not have something “extra” in it. There are perks to being an adult!) never cease to bring back all of the warm and fuzzy feelings of being a child. That feeling is what Christmas means to me.

Let’s face it. We live in a world where being “on” 24/7 is encouraged. Lauded, even! We are constantly texting, sending that one last email that absolutely couldn’t wait (Newsflash: It could have!) or checking social media.

This should be the time of year when all of that stops and we focus on what’s really important. After all, when you think about your most cherished holiday memories, none of them involve an email or Facebook, do they?

Mine certainly don’t. My most cherished memories revolve around family traditions.

When I was growing up, we spent every Christmas at my Grandma’s house in South Hill. My parents piled all of the presents in the trunk and somehow convinced me that Santa would deliver them to the right place.

I’ll never forget the smell of the clean country air and the crunching sound the gravel made as we drove up to the house. I spent many late nights bonding with my aunt, Mom and Grandma over girl talk and games.

As time goes on, vacant seats at the Christmas dinner table become a harsh reminder of how the holidays, albeit joyous, can be painful. Things change and new traditions must be made. Nowadays, we stay in Richmond and enjoy all of our local holiday happenings.

Since becoming the community manager of Yelp Richmond, I see the city in a whole new light. We make sure to visit the thousands of twinkling lights at Dominion’s Garden Fest of Lights, enjoy Tacky Light Tours and attend the yearly production of the Richmond Ballet’s “The Nutcracker.” Nothing brings out your inner child more than watching the Sugar Plum Fairy prance across the stage in her glamorous tutu with her Cavalier. No matter how old I get, I will always want to be her.

The laughs, smiles and time spent having these experiences with family and friends are the memories that I’ll cherish forever.

Jocelyn Barnwell, retired Petersburg homemaker and civic worker:

It was Christmastime in 1987. It was the last Christmas I would spend with my husband of 33 years.

He died of cancer June 15, 1988.

As Christmas nears this year, I am reflecting on the lifetime that we spent together.

We met at Howard University at the end of my sophomore year. He had finished Morehouse College with the goal of going to medical school to become a surgeon. But it was not to be then. Since he was not accepted, he came to graduate school at Howard.

After a few long bench-talking dates, we went to the movies at the Sylvan Theater on Rhode Island Avenue, then to the Oasis Restaurant, where he ordered hamburgers and a pitcher of beer.

I quickly informed him that I could not have the beer.

Why?

“Because I’m 17,” I told him.

His reaction was quick and explicit. “You are not dry behind the ears,” he said.

That fast, I was deleted from his date list.

Fortunately, my mother had insisted that I learn to accept “no” as well “yes,” so I survived it.

Two weeks before I graduated in 1954, he managed to develop a friendship with my friend’s boyfriend and I was invited to go with the group to the beach. “Three Coins in the Fountain” was a hit song at the time, but I was hesitant to sing it.

The next year, I came back to Washington to attend American University. He was accepted to Meharry Medical College in Nashville.

All I could hear after that was, “I love you, I love you, I love you.” My reply was, “Show me.”

We married in 1955, two weeks before medical school started. We headed to Meharry in our pursuit of happiness.

My husband became an excellent surgeon with a great practice. We had four children, of whom we are very proud. Our home was filled with love, caring, kindness, joy, the neighborhood kids and their pets. It was usually live here and very loud on Christmas Eve.

Now, I reflect back to 1987. I cherish that last Christmas we spent together. It was Christmas Eve and it’s quiet in our playroom. It’s just the two of us with our reveries, listening to Christmas music.

My husband pulls close to me and says, “Baby, have I made you happy?”

“Oh, yes, you have,” I tell him. “You showed me.”