Olives for Christmas

I mentioned in an earlier post that it isn’t Christmas without a jar of olives, and that there is a story behind it.  When I was little, mother’s brother, Bob, my “Unca Bob” was still in high school.  However, that didn’t stop him from giving some beautiful gift boxes to my mother.

Inside the large, beautifully wrapped box was a slightly smaller, beautifully wrapped box.  And inside the second box was a third, slightly smaller, beautifully wrapped box.  Three or four boxes later,  was the actual gift:  a jar of olives!

This gift-in-a-gift-in-a-gift… was given year after year.  Finally, when I was 10, there was a really large box at the back of the tree.  I mean, it was almost as big as a washing machine!  Although it had a tag addressing it to mother, she ignored it throughout the present opening.  Finally, Unca Bob couldn’t stand it any more:  “Aren’t you going to open your gift?”

“Oh, that’s just my jar of olives!” mother answered.  Since it was the last present “under” the tree, Unca Bob prevailed, and mother began opening the big box.  This year, there wasn’t a smaller box inside.  Instead, it was a kitchen utility cart, complete with a drawer for storing silverware.  The kitchen in our old house was very short on cabinets, so this was a wonderful gift.  Mother joyfully opened the drawer, and inside she saw…her Christmas jar of olives!

Now you know why olives were always served at our Christmas dinner.  If you have a hard-to-shop-for relative, feel free to wrap up the olives.  They’ll have a blast opening them, and you can have them with your Christmas dinner.

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1 Comment

  1. Knitnana said,

    December 8, 2008 at 11:23 am

    I love the story of the every smaller boxes! And especially the last one…the kitchen cart! Too funny…

    I have another story about olives. My mom adored chopped green olives with pimentos mixed with cream cheese and spread on sandwich bread. It was often a treat for her lunch.

    We had an old orange ex-tomcat who would meet her at the back door by standing on the railing…One day, after having her olive and cream cheese lunch, she opened the back door, and along came “Pumpkin” – he went nuts, trying to get UP to her face, trying to put his nose right IN her mouth.

    She put down a few pieces of the olives..and Pumpkin went wild.

    I never new a cat who liked olives again. But Pumpkin adored them, just like my mom!
    (((hugs)))


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