Such an evocative and heartfelt story from Truman Capote, when he was a boy in the 1930s, saving nickels and dimes and pennies (“a hateful heap of bitter-odored pennies”) to buy the ingredients for homemade fruitcake that he makes with his favorite cousin, an older lady with the heart of a child.

It’s filled with vivid events and images that stick with you: buying illegal whisky from Haha Jones, decorating the Christmas tree with homemade paper decorations, a pair of kites hurrying toward heaven.

It’s almost enough to make me want to eat fruitcake.

This is a story of love and memories. Just beautiful in its' simplicity and unforgettable in how much it makes you remember your past Christmases. It reminded me so much of the special people like my Grandmother and her friends that had such a lasting impact on my life. It reminded me of crocheting and baking cakes and rolls with her at Christmas - gifts for neighbors and friends.

I still miss Grandmother and especially at Christmas. She had an old Santa that always hung from her front door that was purchased at a local dollar store before I was born. I have it in a plastic case. It is too tattered and fragile now to hang, but too precious to throw away.

This short story is the best Christmas literature. Yes, better than A Christmas Carol and The Night Before Christmas. Don’t bother to lecture me.

I have read this bittersweet story so many times that I’ve lost count. And every time I cry. The simple friendship of an abandoned child and his child-like cousin is made even more poignant when you find out the story is true, right down to the rat terrier Queenie: Buddy is actually Truman Capote, and the cousin is his mother’s cousin Nanny “Sook” Faulk. Tru and Sook were steadfast friends until his unreliable, self-absorbed mother removed him from the only home he’d ever known only to ship him off to military school a few years later when she tired of him.

P.S.: Reading Tru & Nelle by G. Neri will make you love “A Christmas Memory” even more.

Capote's Holiday Memoirs: The Whispers of Memory

Truman Capote's The Thanksgiving Visitor was chosen as a Moderator's Choice by Laura Webber, "The Tall Woman," as a read for the group On the Southern Literary Trail for November, 2014

These reflections have been written over the course of nearly three years. After my wife read these thoughts, she pointed out the importance of marking the time of thoughts in connection with the events of our lives.

December 24, 2011


Perhaps I should say this is not so much the review of a book, but the response A Christmas Memory still draws from me each year when I read it. Perhaps it is just a simple statement of the preciousness of memory and the gift it brings us to keep things alive within us, though those things have been gone from us for many years.

Things. Toys, books, friends, parents, lovers, spouses, children. What would we do without the gift of memory? How would we survive? Without it, we would be nothing but empty shells mindlessly living in the moment.

On an old revolving bookcase in my library are some of my favorite books. Faulkner and Fitzgerald, Hemingway and Steinbeck fill the little shelves that turn easily at the push of a finger. Eudora Welty is there, as is Flannery O'Conner, Carson McCullers and Thomas Wolfe. My beloved "To Kill a Mockingbird" rests underneath a miniature of the old Monroeville courthouse on a shelf up on the wall overlooking the little bookcase that holds the treasures of my imagination.

I glance up at it and back down to the little case that spins so easily. There is Erskine Caldwell. And there is Truman Capote. There is a copy of the complete short stories of the little man who spent his summers with Harper Lee in Monroeville when they were children.

Normally two slender volumes stand next to the Capote short stories . They are slipcased editions of "The Thanksgiving Visitor" and a "Christmas Memory." I have taken them to the bedside table because it is time to read them once more. The Holidays have begun. Thanksgiving has come and gone. I could re-shelve "The Thanksgiving Visitor, but I never do until I have read "A Christmas Memory" once more.

n  n
n  Remembrance of Things Pastn

They are a matched set in more ways than one. "The Thanksgiving Visitor" is in a blue slipcase, "A Christmas Memory" is in red. Each has a photograph of a very young Truman Capote and his best childhood friend, Aunt Sook, tipped onto the case. The books slide easily from their cases for I have read them so many times. Each is a testament to the art of making books one does not often find anymore. The gold titles still gleam along the spines. Each page is on paper so thick I can feel the rag content between my fingers. There is still the faint smell of the typesetter's ink. Or is it only my imagination? Does it matter? The dark green endpapers turn stiffly at the insistence of my finger, reminding me something special is inside. And in each of them is the spidery Spenserian handwriting of my grandmother, "Xmas 1980, Ammomie and Papa."

n  n
n  Evidence of love surrounds usn

It is that inscription that urges me to take these little books out each year. For in addition to the joy and simple kindness of Capote's holiday memories are the memories of my own Thanksgivings and Christmases, some joyous and some not, especially those holidays without my grandparents, both of whom have been gone now over twenty years. Yet I still long for their presence, I find them with me more often now because of the gift of memories, especially the sweetest ones.

But reading these little stories, seeing my grandmother's little inscription, bring my grandparents back to me in ways I could not have without the weight of these books in my hand. They are the physical ties that bind us together no matter how many years we may be apart, no matter how many years it may be before we hopefully are together again, or not. Who is to say? Who knows? I certainly don't.

So it is Christmas Eve once more. Tonight I will read "A Christmas Memory." I have lost count of the times I have read it.

Today my mother's kitchen will be redolent with the aromas of Roast Turkey, buttermilk pie, sweet potato souffle and sweet bourbon corn pudding. The cornbread dressing will be steaming and the giblet gravy will be hot and succulent. I will share the table today with my wife and mother. I will be thankful for home and family and the memory of those I love who will not be sharing our table today, whether separated by simple miles or death itself. I will raise a toast to each of those dear to me and I will feel their presence around the table because of two little books given to me one Christmas morning more than thirty years ago.

Though there will be no fruitcake at our table, I will delight in Sook's excited call to Buddy. "It's Fruitcake Weather!"

I have walked the streets of Monroeville, Alabama, many times. There is little sign of Truman Capote or Nelle Harper Lee in that town, other than the old Courthouse, now a museum. Truman Capote's childhood summer and Christmas home is a vacant lot. Ms. Lee's home, if my geography is right, is occupied by something akin to a Dairy Queen, though some owner long past decided the name recognition was not worth the franchise price to have it.

Whether you celebrate Christmas, Kwanzaa, Hanukkah, or nothing at all, I wish each of you the best of memories for the coming day.

To Life--
Mike

Addendum

December 24, 2013

The Christmas dinner described above was the last my wife and I shared with my Mother. We were fortunate to have her with us through Thanksgiving and Christmas. Our homes were two doors apart. My wife and I moved into her home to be her caregivers. Mother died February 1, 2012. I am fortunate to have a number of books given to me by her through the years. I am mindful of the poet W.S. Merwin who told us, “What you remember saves you.” Yes, it does.

Another Thanksgiving, Evening, November 22, 2014

Tomorrow, my wife Martha Jo and I begin our Thanksgiving trip to Wilmington, North Carolina. Waiting for us there will be MJ's brother, Bill, whom MJ once hit over the head with a cast iron skillet because he insisted on watching Bonanza when she wanted to watch Lucy. His wife, Anne, will be producer and director of all activities. She was not the former Postmistress of Killingsworth, Connecticut, for nothing. Bill commonly tells people he is also from Connecticut. However the most important person in Wilmington we will see is Zola Mae Boston, MJ and Bill's mother. Zola Mae is ninety-five years young. She is from Dallas, Texas, as is MJ, and, of course, Bill. Although Bill is quite adroit in addressing anyone in a clipped Connecticut accent, when he tells anyone in Zola Mae's presence he is from Connecticut, she corrects him. "Why, Bill Boston, you're not from Connecticut. You're from Dallas, Texas. I ought to know. I was there when you were born." I rather enjoy seeing a Texan denying his heritage chastened. *chuckle*

So it is not that I am without family. I am embraced by them, particularly Zola Mae who loves how I say Alabama. That our accents are not that different has not occurred to her.

The Thanksgiving Visitor and A Christmas Memory have both been carried to Wilmington. Holiday dinners there are not small affairs. Friends and neighbors fill the house. Extra tables and chairs are brought in. Each couple, group, single, brings a dish.

Following dinner, I have read each of Capote's memoirs aloud in character. And these stories have become part of the memories of many others over two previous holiday seasons. I can do it straight. And, yes, I can channel Capote, which rather unnerves even me.

This year these little books grow even more special to me as I read the comments of "The Trail" members while they experience Capote's stories. One mother is reading "The Thanksgiving Visitor" to her ten year old daughter. She's a smart child. She likes Buddy's friend and says the narrator is good. Now there's another child who will have some special memories of her own.

In all our lives we have memories both bitter and sweet. Nobody said it better than Robert Frost. "In three words I can sum up everything I’ve learned about life: it goes on."

Happy Thanksgiving. Should you not have occasion to celebrate that holiday, simply find a reason to remember it. Each day is a gift.

A Christmas Memory by Truman Capote is a 1956 publication.

Lovely Christmas tale filled with humor and warm fondness!

Every year one of my friends on social media will write a review for this story, reminding me, once again, that I STILL haven't read it. By the time I make it to the library, the hold time for this popular classic goes well beyond the Christmas holidays- so I put it off for another year.

This year I got lucky and found a collection of short stories by Truman Capote, which also had the Thanksgiving story in it, which I’d been meaning to read forever, as well. Although, I think I read them out of order- I was thankful I finally got a chance to read these lovely holiday stories.

This is a super quick read, but the love that leaps from the pages is powerful and very touching. I’m not a fan of fruitcake, but I do remember my grandmother made several fruitcakes for Christmas every year and often gave them as gifts- so the book brought back a few fond memories of my own.
Capote’s autobiographical tale is humorous and heartfelt, and of course we all know he had a real knack for weaving a tale- even a short one.

If you haven’t read this book, I highly recommend it! It’s a story anyone of any age can enjoy, but the older one gets, the more meaningful stories like this one are. No wonder this book is considered a holiday classic!

Oh my, this I totally, totally loved!!!

It captures the feeling of Christmas, the entire Christmas season as day by day n  the dayn finally arrives.

Even if Capote's Christmas is not your Christmas, and neither was it exactly my Christmas, because all of our Christmases are a little bit different from each other's, Capote magnificently captures what bubbles in our bodies and zings in our hearts at Christmas.

The ending has a hint of nostalgia which is perfect too.

Fantastic. Read it! Read it aloud to others in your family. Turn this story into a family tradition. It's that good!

Here I go again, giving a short little story five stars.


**********************************

Here follows a free on-line link to this autobiographical short story:: http://www.sailthouforth.com/2009/12/...

A Christmas Memory is a beautifully written little book by Truman Capote that is a perfect read for this holiday season, one that will warm your heart. It is autobiographical with memories of Capote's Alabama childhood. Seven-year old Buddy describes his best friend and distant cousin, Miss Sook, in her sixties but a child at heart. One early morning in November she excitedly declares to Buddy that it is "fruitcake weather." She dons her straw hat with the faded velvet roses and they guide their buggy, a dilapidated wicker carriage that carried Buddy as a baby, to pick up all of the ingredients including the finest whiskey, pecans, cherries and citron, ginger and vanilla, canned Hawaiian pineapple, rinds, and raisins and walnuts.

I loved this book because the excitement and preparation of fruitcakes around Thanksgiving is one of my earliest Christmas memories, a tradition that I carried on for many years. Best wishes to all this holiday season and wishes for a "Merry Christmas."

“Imagine a morning in late November. A coming of winter morning more than twenty years ago.” And so we begin A Christmas Memory. Truman Capote
surprises us with this simple, sweet, charming tale which encapsulates his memories of the holidays growing up in Alabama in the 1920's. It is an unpretentious and gentle autobiographical account of family and belonging at Christmas told from the perspective of the author as he remembers his childhood. Truman Capote's family origins are very sad: he was abandoned by his mother and father and raised by various aunts and cousins, and he spent much of his time alone and isolated. But he had an elderly cousin who cherished him and gave him memories that he would cherish for the rest of his life.

There are three short stories in this edition: A Christmas Memory; One Christmas; and The Thanksgiving Visitor. This is the sensitive and gentle Truman Capote that is hidden in the stark and sometimes brutal pages of his much more famous non-fiction novel, In Cold Blood. My quotes are taken primarily from A Christmas Memory

Each story contains the same two main characters: Miss Sook, a simple-minded elderly lady and her very young cousin, Buddy (Truman). The stories are set in a rural Alabama where nature guides the actions of Miss Sook and the boy and helps them create unforgettable Christmas traditions. The narrative positively gleams. “Morning. Frozen rime lusters the grass; the sun, round as an orange and orange as hot-weather moons, balances on the horizon, burnishes the silvered winter woods. A wild turkey calls.”

You are there with the two as they go hunting in the woods near their home for the ingredients to make Miss Sook’s famous fruit cake. And the lessons she taught Buddy are worth remembering. “Now listen to me, Buddy: there is only one unpardonable sin— deliberate cruelty. All else can be forgiven. That, never. Do you understand me, Buddy?”

I would highly recommend these stories, particularly A Christmas Memory. The setting alone immerses you in a winter holiday snow globe. You think about what Miss Sook says and does, and you absorb her quiet ways and gentle kindnesses to others.

The early people in our lives vanish with time, and we are left remembering them. Once young like Buddy in this story, we, the readers, are now old. Like the young man who narrates these stories, I wonder who will remember me? Who will remember the little things I did for others when I am gone?

Just as in Capote's Christmas and Thanksgiving stories, I think I will want to be remembered with simple tales and with fondness, perhaps lost in childhood memories but there just the same.

Autobiographical.
Illustrated by Beth Peck.
Sublime and True.
Beautiful and Sad.

Here are some of the illustrations.
The illustrations indicate the fragile family ties Truman Capita grew up with. The illustrations made all the difference between my enjoying the story and my engaging with the story.

I never liked fruitcake, but after reading this beautifully written story, I love the idea of fruitcake. I love that it represents love and caring and the spirit of giving and tradition. My childhood Christmas memories are nothing like Truman Capote’s, but after I read this I couldn’t help but think of all of the Christmas Eves at my grandparents’ house with so many cousins and aunts and uncles. My mother was one of ten children so there was a crowd of us. My father and my uncles sitting at card tables playing pinochle and my mother and aunts and my grandmother in the kitchen. My grandfather drinking a tall glass of his own homemade wine sitting there with his legs crossed, smiling. Meanwhile all of us grandchildren sat at a long table playing bingo. There were so many of us that we never had enough bingo chips. Anyone from an Italian family knows what lupine beans are. We had to use the skins, of course after we ate the salty bean inside as chips. I know I’m digressing, but I imagine if you read this lovely story, it will stir your own memories of your childhood Christmases.

Beautiful images, sights and smells, are rendered so perfectly they enter one's mind, never to leave. Yes, the past is never really past.

Well, finished tonight with my 10 year old. Note to self....last 2 pages don't sit well. Lots of tears shed by my daughter and I'm trying not to let my voice crack with emotion. Easy to get invested in Miss Sook and Buddy! Quote by daughter "so much love".