GRANDMA'S WHITE SUPPER 
by Marie DisBrow

 A wide archway led into the dining room where everything on the table was white--
white porcelain plates and serving dishes, white candles, white linen napkins and Grandma's precious white lace tablecloth. 

     One of my most treasured childhood memories is my Swedish grandmother's Christmas tradition of a "White Supper." Growing up in San Antonio, Texas, I remember seeing snow only once in my life and I don't think we ever had a "White Christmas," but Grandma's "White Supper" was a special and satisfactory substitute for me.

     On Christmas Eve, in the early evening, my younger sister and I bathed and fixed our hair in curlers. After we put on our best dresses, Mama would comb out our hair and on this special occasion, she allowed us to dab a tiny drop of her Evening in Paris cologne behind our ears, making us feel grown up and feminine.

     Mama wore her special best dress, too, and this was the only time, other than at church on Sundays, when our Daddy wore a tie. On the short drive to Grandma and Grandpa's house, he and Mama would remind us about our table manners and acceptable company behavior.

     At our grandparents' house, we exclaimed over the tall and fragrant cedar tree set up in the living room, decorated with bubble lights, beautiful glass ornaments and shiny tinsel. This was a family time and our aunts and uncles and cousins were always there, too.

     A wide archway led into the dining room where everything on the table was white--white porcelain plates and serving dishes, white candles, white linen napkins and Grandma's precious white lace tablecloth. The centerpiece was a glittery white sleigh and reindeer.

     In Sweden, the traditional main dish was dried and cured herring, but Grandma substituted poached cod, which she served with white cream gravy and boiled potatoes. My sister and I, and our cousins, had big glasses of milk to drink, but the adults were served Mogen David wine. I guess there was one thing on the table that wasn't white! I remember that my mother always ate before leaving home because she hated the poached fish. I wasn't that impressed with the menu, either, but I was fascinated that everything on the table was white.

     After supper, Grandpa read the Christmas story from the book of Luke and we all sang Christmas carols. Grandpa would slip outside while we were involved with singing, and stomp around on the front porch, saying, "Ho ho ho! There's Santa Claus!" Then we were allowed to open our presents--which had been under the tree all the time! We had to wait until all of the presents were handed out and then we took turns opening one gift at a time. Grandma always saved the fancy paper and ribbons.

     When we got home late that night, Mama would read The Night Before Christmas and then we would hang our Christmas stockings. My sister and I used Mama's long nylon stockings so we'd have more room for presents. And finally, we all had a bedtime snack because, although Grandma's "White Supper" was an interesting family tradition, it really wasn't very satisfying to our stomachs.

© 2006 Marie DisBrow

Marie was raised in San Antonio, Texas. From a young age, her great-aunt supplied her with books and introduced her to the joys of the public library. Her love of writing arose from her lifelong love of reading. She and her husband, David, now reside in a wooded area of northern California. After years of living in a big city and working as an electronics technician, she now enjoys a much simpler life. Marie writes poetry, inspirational devotionals and articles, and has a multi-generational novel in progress. You can see some of her work at her website.