A Christmas to Remember: A Tale of Friendship and Mischief
As I reflect on my early days with my wife Susan, one particular Christmas stands out in my mind. It was 1978, and I was invited to join her family for their traditional holiday celebration. The plan was to visit her grandmother in a Boston nursing home, followed by a delicious meal at the Tahiti Chinese Restaurant in Dedham. But fate had other plans.
A Snowy Christmas Eve
A surprise snowstorm hit on Christmas Eve, dumping over a foot of fresh snow. My boss and friend Steve called me at 4:00 a.m., and we embarked on a mission to clear the streets. With Steve behind the wheel of the plow, I jumped out to shovel walks and clean driveways. Our last stop was the home of “Cadillac Frank” Salemme, where his son Frankie Jr. had hired Steve for snow removal.
A Blast from the Past
Frankie Jr. was a familiar face from our high school days. He was known for his pranks, like the time he convinced me that the vice principal wanted to see me, only to reveal it was a ruse to sneak out for a smoke break. His infectious laugh still echoes in my mind.
An Unexpected Invitation
After finishing our snow-clearing duties, Frankie invited Steve and me in for a drink. Exhausted but tempted, we agreed to join him and his friend Eddie for a quick toast. Little did we know, this would be the start of a memorable and chaotic Christmas Day.
A Drambuie-Fueled Frenzy
Frankie, aware of my fondness for Drambuie, had a bottle ready and waiting. We started slow, but soon the shots were flowing, and Steve and I were indulging in the sweet liqueur like there was no tomorrow. Frankie and Eddie, however, remained sober, enjoying the spectacle.
A Hazy Departure
As the hours passed, I realized I had to leave, but Frankie kept pouring shots. Steve and I stumbled out, barely able to stand. I made a slurred phone call to Susan, apologizing for missing our family gathering. Frankie seemed to relish my misery, but Steve and I took control of the Drambuie, drinking until we were senseless.
A Wild Ride Home
Steve claimed he could still drive, and we set off into the snowy night. His truck careened through the streets, narrowly avoiding disaster. We finally arrived at his house, where his mother welcomed us with open arms, familiar with our drunken antics. We face-planted onto the living room floor, sleeping through Christmas Day.
A Lesson Learned
Looking back, I realize I acted irresponsibly that day. But would I change it? No. It was a time in my life when reckless behavior was expected, and I certainly didn’t disappoint. Getting drunk at Frankie’s house on Christmas Day is a cherished memory, one I’ll always treasure. Rest in peace, Frankie (1957-1995). Merry Christmas!
Leave a Reply