Tablecloth a memory of Christmases past

My mom had Christmas Day guests sign a tablecloth. After five generations, it's become something of a family tree.

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December 10, 2021 - 4:15 PM

Since 1956, my family gets out a tablecloth each Christmas Day on which guests sign their names.

Going off our custom of sharing readers’ Thanksgiving Day plans, the Register invites readers to share their Christmas Day plans and traditions.

I’ll start.

For Christmas, my mom always laid the table with a cherry red tablecloth on which guests would sign their names, which she would later embroidery in white thread.

I’ve kept up the tradition since her passing in 2009, but I admit I have some embroidery to catch up on before Christmas Day dawns.

The cloth dates back to 1956 and is something of a family tree. My immediate family is all listed, including our various beaus, girlfriends and spouses over the years. I’d forgotten how many girlfriends my brother Mike brought home for Christmas until he finally settled down. Both sets of grandparents are there, assorted aunts and uncles, cousins, and good friends.

What’s interesting to note is oftentimes the size of someone’s signature matches their personality. My Uncle Arnold, for instance, signed his name in large letters. My mother, I guess, felt obligated to stay true to the pattern, though I imagine she had a few choice words as she stitched his name. He could be a pain.

My favorite signature is my Aunt Helen’s. Alongside her name is a tiny self-portrait that is spot on. 

A professional weaver, Helen always was able to make anything special.

Today, the cloth includes five generations. And there’s room for many more.

YOUR SUBMISSIONS can include friends and relatives who are coming home for the holidays, special recipes you’d like to share, new traditions perhaps inspired by the pandemic, or memories from years back.

A Christmas memory for me is how my mother would herd us all to church on Christmas Eve for its 7 p.m. candlelight service, postponing dinner — usually a hearty soup — until afterward. Needless to say, we were a hungry group and my mom would grow impatient if the service lagged.

But the wait was worth it. Not only would we be rewarded with a bounteous feast, but our souls had been fed as well. 

Such memories are the things that help make the holidays all the more special. The more the merrier!

I look forward to hearing about your news. You can email me at [email protected], or simply drop by the Register and let’s visit. 

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