This book was recommended for humorous and heartwarming Christmas vignettes, but when I discovered it was written by a man who grew up in Maine during the 1970s and 1980s, I was hooked. David Valdes Greenwood, his mother, and his brother moved into his grandparents' home in Norridgewock, Maine, after an early childhood in Boston and Miami's Little Havana. His grandmother is a no-nonsense, hardworking member of the Seventh Day Adventist church, a woman on the brink of retirement when her daughter and grandsons move in. David and Grammy are soon butting heads over whether a boy should have a doll, the disappointment of socks as a Christmas gift, the indignity of sitting at the kids' table, the injustice of your brother getting more fudge than you did, and the age-old battle of white tree lights vs. colored tree lights. Along the way, he also deals with the difficulty of living in the least racially diverse state in the country and the discomfort of realizing he is one of the poor receiving charity as part of the holiday tradition.
As a Mainer, I remembered and related to the joy of burrowing through snow drifts, watching the Santa Claus TV show to see if Santa read your name from his good list, and the amazing array of merchandise at LaVerdiere's Super Drug Store. Even if you're not from Maine, you will enjoy the stories of Christmas pageants, the anticipation of what might be under the tree, and the special feeling you get the first time you give gifts to loved ones. Greenwood reminds us that Christmas is about family, even when they drive you crazy.