CHRISTMAS, 1976

Here’s a poor boy Christmas carol for you:

I emigrated from the Dominican Republic when I was six, in the middle of December, not knowing anything about American Christmas. Back on the island, we didn’t celebrate Christmas like that — not in those days — and that first year I was too busy eating the orbital dropkick that was immigration to catch the Yuletide spirit or even understand exactly how it was celebrated.

By our second Christmas my siblings and I knew enough American to understand. How could we not, what with all the other kids, the commercials, and the Charlie Brown Christmas special? But my mother, the original Caribbean Grinch, refused to celebrate, didn’t put up a tree or give any of us gifts. Not even a special meal. Sure we were super-poor, but still — no holiday cheer at all?