When I was growing up, December 24 was all about sister Marjorie Ellen. It was her birthday. My parents did all they could to make that her special day, as a birthday should be. Especially when you’re a kid.

Margie’s birthday had nothing whatsoever to do with Christmas. Even if there was a tree in the living room while she blew out the candles on the cake. Her day was her day.

It was black and white. First came Margie. Next day came baby Jesus. And Santa. Because you couldn’t have one without the other. Bible says so. It’s in there somewhere I’m sure. Three wise men bringing gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh. Stuff  the grownups might want (Gold, Mr. Spouse…hint…hint) But what kid in his right mind would put frankincense and myrrh on his list? Dried tree sap? Resin? Even one who would become the ultimate overachiever like baby J?

That’s why they needed Santa. The guy who brings the good stuff to the party. A case of Papyrus Pampers to make life easier for mom and dad. A bottle of Manischewitz to toast the birth. The bobble head Cesar for the back of the donkey. Condoms for the shepherds. And a BC Binkie for the babe.

But I digress. I was talking about Margie and her birthday. Which had nothing to do with Christmas Eve, just Margie, whom I worshipped and idolized because she was my big sister and knew everything. EVERYTHING ABOUT EVERYTHING. In my eyes she was perfect.

Did I ever tell you how bad my eyesight is?

It wasn’t  until I was an ADULT, that I discovered people actually celebrate Christmas Eve as a holiday unto itself.

Imagine that….

So we do, sort of. Tonight we’ll have a lovely dinner. It will be our first Christmas Eve without Mama. We’ll raise a glass in her honor, repeat the stories we’ve told countless times about her.  We’ll celebrate her life and her passing and be happy that’s she’s in a better place.

Sister Marjorie Ellen is in a better place now too…Norway. Been there her entire adult life–quite possibly because they celebrate Christmas for TWELVE days. I guess her birthday gets lost somewhere in there but that’s okay, there’s enough days of wine to cover that.

But these days Christmas Eve is more than Marjorie Ellen and Jesus. Because someone else in the family was born on December 24.

Happy Birthday Baby Bean, AKA Precious Man Dog! Happy birthday!