A Big Celebration for Little Christmas
The star sweepers will come down this week. The Madonna and her evergreen swags and vigil lights will be put back in their boxes. It’s not that Patsy and I are lazy. It’s just that by the time we get all the Christmas decorations up all over the house, we are so wowed by their beauty, from the bows on the rabbits by the front door to the punch bowl full of red glass balls lighted from underneath, which sits on top of the kitchen hutch, we are loath to start taking them down.
We put all the lights on every night, the big tree lights, the front hall tree and the one over the mantle, all glowing in every color. And the big American eagle with the three-foot wingspan that holds court high above the fireplace is, of course, wearing his red skating cap and a sour look.
Now that the Epiphany has come and gone, even we are willing to agree it’s time to shlepp all this stuff back in the boxes and shove them in the attic.
It is nice to know that we are not alone in this custom. Nay, even that a good portion of the Christmas-observing world agrees with us. Jan. 6 was the Feast of Little Christmas, the day that the Wise Men finally made it beyond the hill and found the stable under the star.
In Italy, Spain, Portugal and in South America, Little Christmas is the bright party day everyone looks forward to. My friend Elvira Argentina Tejada Flores De Wilkinson is the one who introduced me to Little Christmas.
She married Marshall Wilkinson, a retired architect who used to be a Beverly Hills High School boy, one summer when I wasn’t watching. I had known him since dancing school.
Elvira is a wonderful hostess. There were just four of us for dinner the other evening and she had crudites, Brie, caviar in endive leaves with just a sprinkle of lime, smoked salmon and cream cheese on thin bread rounds and crackers with three dips. That was in the living room before we even went into the dining room.
Elvie is the kind of a woman whose house glows with color and excitement, and the marvelous food seems to be effortless. It’s like watching Fred Astaire dance. It looks so easy because you haven’t seen the sinew-stretching effort that went into it.
That’s the way I feel at the Wilkinsons’, as if the elves had prepared the feast and Elvira had sailed in in a pretty dress at the same time as her guests. It’s the most marvelous attribute for a hostess.
After all the years of enjoying Little Christmas parties at the Wilkinsons’, I asked her something about the great day.
Elvira’s father, Jose Luis Tejada Sorzano, was president of Bolivia. The ancestry of Mr. Tejada and Elvira’s mother was Spanish. Bolivia was one time upper Peru and was liberated from Spanish rule by Simon Bolivar, who saved himself a plum by naming the country after himself.
Elvira told me, “Little Christmas is a wonderful feast. Christmas is a family thing when every child gets one special present, maybe a pair of shoes.
“But Reyes (the Kings) is the day the entire world heard about the birthday of the infant Jesus. On Christmas Day, only a few shepherds knew. Reyes took the news back to the world. It is the day families and close friends celebrate together.
“The food is very festive, all continental because these people had their origin and education in Europe.
“Every child has his own creche in his room and has small gifts to give to each guest who goes into see it.”
Elvira’s creche, or naciemiento, the one she had when she was a little girl in Bolivia, rests on the piano. The entire surface of the piano is covered with tiny figures of people, soldiers, angels and animals. Each year a new group is added.
“They are toys for the Baby Jesus,” Elvira told me. “I have a tiny cast-iron dog orchestra, a frog band, a German band wearing lederhosen. Mother would have the cook fix tiny treats, little cookies and meringues to place around the naciemiento for people to eat.”
Elvira’s Aunt Angelica had an entire room in her house, which was filled with a naciemiento scene. The figures were authentic Neapolitan. It is from Naples that the very elaborate scenes developed. There were camels a foot and a half high, a winding road over a mountain that held the three approaching kings and their caravan, an entire village of people eating, working, dancing. Tiny plates and glasses sat on small tables and the rafters hung with carved wooden cheeses and hams and smoked meats.
Angels flew over the whole scene. The hills held not one sheep but whole flocks and bands of shepherds.
“It was the most magical night to me when I was little. Hundreds of figures in buildings, trees and flowers, all to scale, centered around the manger. I can remember every bit of it,” Elvira said.
One of Marshall and Elvira’s sons had the Little Christmas party this year, Hutton and his wife, Ruth Wilkinson. It was a splendid party. Patsy and I are privileged to be counted Bolivian on this feast day.