There’s nothing like Christmas traditions

Like many families, for years the Brehl Christmas centred on dad and mom corralling as many of the seven kids as possible and going to Midnight Mass at Holy Cross Church in East York.

Because there was nearly a 12-year difference in ages between oldest and youngest, once the youngest hit age seven or eight, rarely would all the kids be home for Midnight Mass.

After church, we’d eat some Christmas goodies and then gather around the tree to open gifts. As a child, this was always what I looked forward to most, even if it meant fighting yawns while staying up until 3 or 4 a.m. as a youngster.

After a few hours’ sleep, we’d get up to find there had been a visit from St. Nick, too. These Christmases were idyllic; playing with toys and hoping the day would never end. My mother, working like a dog, loved the family time but would probably not use the word idyllic. (The only Christmas I remember her not on her feet the entire day was her last when she was very sick.)