Christmas in Manistique

by John B. Anderson

I loved Christmas when I was a boy in Manistique. We always had a lot of snow. One year, I got a new sled from Santa. For the rest of Christmas vacation, I was to be found at the sand hills. Ron used to drive his sled over a jump near the bottom of the hill. I did that once. Other daring deeds were sledding down the, “Man Killer,” and “The Nut Cracker.” Both of those adventures lived up to their names.

At Lakeside Elementary and at church, we had to memorize parts of a play, so we didn't embarrass our parents. The program a church had Vi Pavlot singing, “Oh Holy Night.” The beauty of her voice sent shivers up my spine.

Christmas Eve always reminded me that I was Swedish. We would always celebrate Christmas Eve at Aunt Hildur's, along with Uncle Ed, Ruth, Lois and Elizabeth, my cousins. We were always late for dinner, because my dad had to have a Christmas drink with the other staff at the drugstore. He didn't want to seem ungracious leave the party early, as he got his bonus at the time, usually $100. (That's back when $100 was $100.) When we arrived at Aunt Hildur's, we were greeted with the smell of lute fisk. I went through the front door, stifled my urge to vomit, and gave everyone a big smile.

Outside of the lute fisk, the rest of the Christmas Eve meal was wonderful. We ate potato sausage, boiled potatoes, Limpa bread and rice pudding. There was conversation about which grocery had the best potato sausage, and Smitty's IGA won the prize each time. My mom would ask Aunt Hildur for her Limpa recipe, but Aunt Hildur would only say, “I make it differently each time. There is no recipe.

After supper, we would gather around the Christmas tree, and distribute the gifts. Their tree always had some large outside lights, which I really loved, as the lights on our tree back home were a lot smaller. Most of the time, my gift would be a pretty shirt from the People's Store, where Aunt Hildur and Ruth worked.

Christmas morning at our house had its own rituals. I could open one present before breakfast. I always went after the biggest one. For breakfast, mom would fix grapefruit baskets. In the middle of each basket was a maraschino cherry. After breakfast, we would open our family gifts, then just lay around in our pajamas for a couple of hours. My best gift ever, was an American Flyer train set. Later, when we got dressed, we headed down the block to see what the other kids had gotten.

One year, Sandy had just broken up with one of her boyfriends, (probably, Eddie,) so she was feeling pretty sad. I kept playing Elvis Presley's “I'll have a blue, blue, Christmas.” She got really pissed at me. During those years, Sandy and I weren't really all that tight. We, eventually, got over it.

We had lots to do over the two week holiday. When we were smaller, we would chase the Sno-Go down the street, to stand in the snow being sprayed beyond the catching truck. Mom yelled at us, saying the Sno-Go might pick up a rock and send it at our heads. Impervious to danger, we did it anyway, never telling mom again. The skating rink was a lot of fun. Mr. Schmidt would keep the warming house nice and toasty, while we played, “Crack the Whip.” I didn't play hockey, because my friend, John, had caught the puck in his mouth, and the blank space it left wasn't cool.

Eating was a favorite pastime around Christmas. One of the best places to hang out at this time was at Bob and Donnie's house. Their Uncle Marco was a chef aboard one of the Great Lakes ships, and the dishes he served us were over the top. These were, perhaps, outdone by Bob and Donnie's grandmother on North Cedar Street. I'm not sure what she served, (a noodle dish), but I know that I ate so much, that I didn't want to move for a week.

Another great eating party was held at Andy and Art's house on New Years Day. Their dad, John, was a commercial fisherman out of Whitefish Point. Chick and Clarise would assist, as they prepared lobster, shrimp, scallops, assorted fish and all the fixings. This was another time that I ate far more than I should have.

Over the years, I have tried to emulate some of those traditions. Now that I live downstate, I have negotiated with local butchers for the preparation of potato sausage. One time, I ordered the potato sausage from Vollworth's out of Marquette, and they shipped it to me. Elizabeth gave me a copy of what she thinks is her mom's recipe for Limpa bread, and that turns out well each time that we try it. .......and I still have part to my American Flyer train.