Joe Spagnolo: The moments we should all treasure

So, here we are again — Christmas. It’s been an interesting build-up for me this year. I spent Thursday afternoon in the emergency department of Hollywood Private Hospital. I wasn’t exactly thinking Christmas Carols as I lay in that hospital bed, with my blue hospital robe revealing maybe too much of this 59-year-old body as I clutched my stomach. I won’t bore you with the details, Dear Reader, but let’s say Thursday afternoon will not be in my 2023 highlights reel. Just on the stomach pains, I’m wondering whether I ate too many of my mother’s meatballs last Sunday at the annual Spagnolo lunch. Or maybe it was the stuffed capsicums? Either way, it was a lovely Italian Christmas lunch. I now know who died and who is about to die in my mother’s list of long-term friends. I’m all up to date. The good news is that after my brush with death on Thursday, I am free to fulfil my list of pre-Christmas duties. My partner, Donna, has some specific requests. I’ve got this list of ingredients I need to buy. It’s in front of me as I write this column. Donna neatly wrote out the list and put it in a see-through plastic folder so I could see it and not lose it. Very considerate. Looks fairly straight forward: Dijon mustard, almonds, red onions, and salted butter among the requests. Tamarind paste? What’s that? Sounds like we are taking Christmas lunch to a whole new level this year. I’ve got further duties. Donna’s working, so today (Sunday) I’m picking up the ham and turkey from the butcher. I’m then off to wash down the alfresco area and get the barbie ready for a traditional Christmas Eve dinner with my son and his family. This year, my daughter and her family are also joining us for Christmas Eve — and my stepson. Needless to say, my four grandchildren will be eager to see what’s under the Christmas tree. Four-year-old Noa — my daughter’s eldest — got on the phone a few weeks ago and told me that her life would be immeasurably better if I could buy a Barbie toy car for her. So Nonno Joe took to the local toy shop in search of a pink Barbie car. I found one. Job done — or so I thought. When I spoke to Noa at my mother’s last Sunday, she politely asked me whether I’d purchased the yo-yo she so desperately needs this Christmas? Yo-yo? I thought she wanted a Barbie car? Off to the toy shop again. Yo-yo purchased. Job done. Let’s hope Noa doesn’t have another change of mind in the next 24 hours. As is a Christmas Eve tradition at our place, I normally bring out the piano accordion to play a few Christmas carols. Better practice after I finish cleaning the barbecue. I’m thinking of going big this year: I’ll start with Silent Night, morph into Drummer Boy and finish with Feliz Navidad. Might even introduce my grandkids to the Love Theme from the Godfather this year as part of their education. Christmas Day is, of course, tomorrow (Monday). By the time we sit for Christmas lunch I reckon I’ll be bloody exhausted. I reckon I’ll be lucky to make it to 2pm before I need a sleep. But as busy and as hectic as the lead-up to Christmas can be, would you have it any other way? This will be the third Christmas without my father, Francesco, who passed away during COVID. He was nearly 93. He had a good life. But it doesn’t make it any easier. I suppose Dad’s passing has highlighted even more to me that special moments in life need to be savoured and enjoyed. A merry Christmas to everyone.