Happy Epiphany

Midnight just passed, and so it is now January 6, the Feast of Epiphany. I just left the Epiphany party at my cousin's house, opting to be home for midnight.

In my Lebanese community, we have always celebrated Epiphany in a big way, calling it "little Christmas." It was on this 12th day after Christmas that the magi, the wise men, got there. Epiphany is also, apparently, a celebration of Christ's baptism, but I don't remember hearing about that growing up. I only remember hearing about the magi.

My aunt, Terry Coury, held the Epiphany eve party back in the day. The Courys owned the big yellow house on the corner of Willis and County Streets in New Bedford. This was back in the late 1970s, and probably into the 80s. Their party was huge, legendary, filled with life and dancing, singing, drinking and merrymaking to the ultimate degree. The house rained food and drink, and they always had a 30-foot Christmas tree in the large foyer.

Everyone went to the party. All my aunts, uncles, cousins, sort-of-cousins, extended relatives, politicians (my Uncle Ed Coury was a state rep), movers and shakers in New Bedford, and all the people they decided to invite along showed up for food and drink that never ran out and entertainment that came from the guests.

After they moved, the party moved to my Aunt Norma's. That was always lots of fun, too, but smaller, because she has a normal house, not a 30-room mansion.

Now, my cousin hosts the big event, but not always on the 5th. He usually works it out for the weekend. This year, we got the 5th on a Saturday, hence, a full house.

It's always so much fun to hang with my cousins. And now their children are getting older, driving themselves to the party. The next generation is going to be every bit as entertaining as the one before it.

We are the story of immigrants from a small village in Lebanon. The couple that started this crew arrived in New Bedford in 1914. They had 13 children, two died as infants; the remaining 11 daughters went on to have 32 children, only 8 of whom are male — my cousins, the grandchildren. The grandchildren are now becoming grandparents, with a whole new crop of infants and toddlers crawling around at our family parties, the third generation born in this country.

I dare say our grandparents would be bursting with pride. We're a fun group, every single one of us sharing in the promise and possibilities of this great country. I often thank my grandparents for leaving when they did.

Epiphany is a time to think about the next year. It is the end of the Christmas season and the beginning of the new year. We make fried dough, big batches of it for eating, and small crosses for placing in the refrigerator and maybe over the front door. Definitely in the refrigerator, where the food is. The tradition is to make the big batches of food, especially the dough, so that the home and those in it will have plenty in the year to come. The Arabic expression, "dayem dayem," that we say to each other at midnight means (loosely translated), as you are now, so shall you be. As you can imagine, couples made sure to be cuddling closely at midnight; and those who were making love to the toilet instead of each other got a lot of ribbing for the next few weeks.  So, I opt to be home at midnight now, although, when I was younger, I was sure to be partying at midnight.

Since I've owned my house, it has been nothing short of an adventure to make that monthly mortgage payment; so now I am home at midnight on Little Christmas, with the hope that for the next year, I will still be here, in my little converted camp on my little patch of paradise, with plenty of food in the fridge, my little woodstove burning, and my fingers clicking away at the keyboard.

Dayem dayem, Everyone.