Steve's Genealogy Blog

Sister Marie DeLourdes finished her list of the characters in the first grade Christmas pageant and stepped back from the blackboard.

“Students, these are the roles in the Christmas pageant that we need to fill. We’ll go down the list, one by one, and I’d like you to nominate someone in the class who you think would do a good job in the role.”

She used her pointer to direct our eyes to the first name on the list. The Virgin Mary.

Hands flew into the air as several students offered their suggestions for the person who should play the Virgin Mary. And then we voted.

Sister Marie DeLourdes continued on down the list. Finally she reached the character of the Shepherd Chief. I raised my hand to nominate my friend Lance for the role. Lance also had his hand in the air. Sister Marie DeLourdes called on Lance first.

“I suggest Steve Danko,” he said.

“Very good,” Sister said as she wrote my name on the board. “Would anyone else like to nominate someone?”

I did not raise my hand again. After all, it would seem strange for Lance to nominate me and then for me to nominate him for the same role.

“If there are no more suggestions, then Stephen Danko will play the role of the Shepherd Chief,” Sister Marie DeLourdes declared.

She then handed out scripts to each student who would participate in the pageant. My script had all the lines for the Shepherd Chief marked with a star.

I brought my script home with and showed my mother. She looked over the script, congratulated me for winning the role, and then the work began.

For days afterward, in the evenings before I went to bed, my mother and I rehearsed the lines together in the kitchen . I knew my lines perfectly and was anxious for the time I would recite them in the pageant. My mother made the Shepherd Chief’s costume as described in the script: a bathrobe and a stick for a shepherd’s crook. I was ready.

Then, on December 12, my mother called me over to her and asked, “Stephen, how long have you had these spots on your face?”

“What spots?” I asked.

And then, just a week before the pageant, my mother diagnosed that I had the Chicken Pox.

“I’m sorry, but you can’t go to school and you can’t be in the Christmas pageant,” my mother told me.

I was miserable. Moreover, I was worried.

“But, I have to go to school and be in the Christmas pageant,” I protested. “Who will play the Shepherd Chief? How can they put on the pageant without the Shepherd Chief? Nobody else knows the lines! They’re depending on me!””

My mother called the school to inform Sister Marie DeLourdes of the sad situation. We discovered that I was not the only student in the class with Chicken Pox. Sister Marie DeLourdes had had to recast several of the roles in the pageant. Someone else would be the Shepherd Chief.

Despondent, but relieved that the pageant wouldn’t have to be cancelled because of me, I accepted the fact that I would have to stay home.

My chance to appear on the stage would have to wait for another time.

Written for the Advent Calendar of Christmas Memories – Day 16 . 

Copyright © 2007 by Stephen J. Danko

My earliest recollection of Christmas is from when I was just 4 or 5 years old.

We lived on Park Avenue in Albany, New York, in a house owned by my uncle Jack. We rented the first floor flat in the house and my cousins lived upstairs.

Our Christmas tree was set up in the dining room and, under the tree, my father had set up a train on tracks that ran in a circle around the base of the tree. The dining room table had been pushed to one side to make room for the tree, and the table itself was dressed with a festive holiday tablecloth. The table was decked with special Christmas candleholders and candles decorated with holly leaves and berries. We never lit those candles, but used them again and again for many years.

On the buffet on the north wall of the dining room we set up a nativity set, first rolling out a layer of fiberglass angel hair sprinkled with glitter, and then setting the wooden stable and clay figures carefully in place. The figures, themselves, included the Baby Jesus in His manger, Mary, Joseph, the three Wise Men, a Shepherd, an Angel, a cow, a camel, and several sheep. A bulb burned inside the stable and illuminated a star cut in the front of the structure.

On one particular evening close to Christmas, my father brought out our Victrola and set it up on the floor in front of the tree. He brought out his 78s of Polka music, placed one of the brittle black discs on the machine, and set the needle on the disc.

We listened to the Beer Barrel Polka:

Roll out the barrel, we’ll have a barrel of fun,
Roll out the barrel, we’ve got the blues on the run,
Zing Boom Terrara,
Join in a glass of good cheer,
Now it’s time to roll the barrel,
For the gang’s all here!

We listened to the Tic Tock Polka:

Tic Tic Tic Tock goes the clock on the wall,
As we’re dancing the evening away.
Tic Tic Tic Tock Goes my heart with the clock,
Beating time while the music is gay.
Tic Tic Tic Tock is the rhythm that plays,
And I know it’ll make you feel blue.
Tic Tic Tic Tock goes my heart with the clock,
‘Cause they know I am dancing with you.

And we listened to the She’s Too Fat Polka:

Oh I don’t want her
You can have her
She’s too fat for me
She’s too fat for me
She’s too fat for me
Oh I don’t want her
You can have her
She’s too fat for me
She’s too fat
She’s too fat
She’s too fat for me

My father and I sat on the floor for what seemed like hours, listening to polka after polka.

Most of those old 78s are probably long gone, either broken or too badly scratched to be playable anymore. But the memories remain.

Written for the Advent Calendar of Christmas Memories – Day 15 . 

Copyright © 2007 by Stephen J. Danko

O Fruitcake! How I long to set you free,
And see you where you surely ought to be,
Upon my plate where I may gaze at you,
And share my love for you, Fruitcake, anew.

Constrained within your wrappings, there you lay,
Those bits of red and green… just what are they?
I’m sure you know, but how am I to say
Sweet words of love and taste of you today?

I hear their voices. Hark! They come too soon!
And you, my dear, must sense the piper’s tune.
Alas! My love for you they do not share,
To taste of Christmas fruitcake they won’t dare.

The die is cast; my spirits cannot lift.
Your fate, my darling Fruitcake, is re-gift.

Written for the Advent Calendar of Christmas Memories – Day 14 . 

Copyright © 2007 by Stephen J. Danko

My earliest memory of attending a live performance at Christmastime was when I was in graduate school in Oregon . I attended a sing-along Messiah concert with a group of my fellow students. I wasn’t familiar with much of the Messiah, so I really didn’t sing along. My friends sang with gusto and were a bit disappointed that I could do little more than read along as everyone else participated.

A few years later, while living in Nebraska, I drove to Omaha to attend a performance of The Nutcracker. The ballet was performed by a community-based group and I was disappointed that the ballet was performed to recorded music. In retrospect, I suppose the version I saw was The Nutcracker – Lite.

Now, living in San Francisco, opportunities to see high-quality Christmas performances abound. I’m a bit embarrassed to say that I haven’t seen many of them. Over the years, I’ve seen A.C.T.’s version of A Christmas Carol several times, a performance that is often a bit unconventional. Who knew Ebenezer Scrooge could be played with a Caribbean accent?

By far, one of the most popular of holiday performances in San Francisco is the holiday edition of Beach Blanket Babylon, the story of Snow White traveling around the globe trying to find her prince. The holiday edition includes some special characters, including a forest of dancing Christmas trees. I’ve seen Beach Blanket Babylon many times, though only once at Christmas. It’s always a popular stop for visitors from out of town.

This year, I’ll be attending another performance of the Messiah . Some friends are taking me to the concert later this week. All I know about the performance at this point is that it’s not a sing-along Messiah. That’s probably just as well. I still don’t know the music.

Written for the Advent Calendar of Christmas Memories – Day 13 . 

Copyright © 2007 by Stephen J. Danko

Each year, during the holiday season, the elementary school I attended held a canned food drive. I remember only that the canned food would be distributed to the needy, but I don’t recall ever being told who the needy were, where they lived, or who would distribute the food.

As far as I was concerned, the canned food drive was a great opportunity for me to eliminate those canned foods I most disliked from our pantry at home. This included just about any canned green vegetable.

My mother was no fool. She allowed me to get away with disposing of the canned spinach, green beans, peas, and lima beans. My teachers were no fools either. They closely watched what the students were placing in the collection bins and noted an overabundance of green vegetables and a dearth of canned fruit, tuna, macaroni, and juice.

My taste in vegetables really hasn’t changed much with time. I much prefer fresh vegetables in season to canned vegetables of any ilk. But given the challenge to contribute to a canned food drive, I prefer to donate canned foods that I would actually eat. Why should the needy be required to eat food that I won’t?

Every now and then, I encounter people in San Francisco, rummaging through the garbage bins, looking for something to eat, and I’m reminded that there are those among us who would be happy to have the food many people consider worthy only for discard.

These days, I also try to provide for the needy by making cash donations to worthy charities and allowing the directors of those charities decide how the money can best be spent to meet their needs.

In particular, I am a strong supporter of a drop-in center for homeless women in Oakland, California called A Friendly Place and its companion overnight facility for homeless women called A Friendly Manor. Both are operated by the Sisters of St. Joseph of Carondelet, and both are shining examples of efforts to extend a helping hand to those in need.

I first became acquainted with the project when I started reading the murder mysteries written by Sister Carol Anne O’Marie, a member of the Sisters of St. Joseph of Carondelet. I have hard cover copies of all Sister Carol Anne’s books in my living room and, one day, a friend of mine noticed the books. He told me that he worked with one of the other nuns in Sister Carol Anne’s convent and would mention that I had these books.

Word quickly reached Sister Carol Anne, who sent back a message that she wanted to meet me, and would I be interested in coming to the convent for dinner? I was thrilled.

Sister Carol Anne O’Marie and Steve Danko

During our dinner, Sister Carol Anne and her colleagues told me about their projects A Friendly Place and A Friendly Manor commenting, “We were really quite naive. If we had known the difficulties of running A Friendly Place and A Friendly Manor, we might not have begun the project.”

A Friendly Place/Manor derives 33% of its operating income from individual donations and, in addition to cash donations, the organization asks for wash cloths, combs and brushes, safety pins, sugar, toilet tissue, bandages, spray deodorant, air freshener, and bingo prizes. They really don’t ask for much, and that which is donated is gratefully received.

A Friendly Place/Manor
2298 San Pablo Ave
Oakland, CA 94612-1321

A donation to A Friendly Place/Manor has become my new holiday tradition.

Written for the Advent Calendar of Christmas Memories – Day 12 . 

Copyright © 2007 by Stephen J. Danko