"​It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas"

The Christ Tree glows—where memory gathers and gumbo will warm the soul.

The Christ Tree: A Holiday Centerpiece
Every year, as December unfolds, the Pearson house transforms with the glow of what I fondly call the “Christ Tree”—a tribute in his honor. The tree stands proudly in the living room, lights twinkling, ornaments gathering, and the promise of completion by next week. There are still a few finishing touches that gnaw at my perfectionist side: the missing Barbies who need to join the two Kens, and a GI Joe whose attendance this year remains uncertain. Maybe he’ll make his appearance by Christmas Eve at midnight. Two carefully wrapped presents already rest beneath the branches, awaiting two special people. That’s the current state of the festivities as I sit and reflect on what traditions to continue this season.

Tradition, Memory, and Reinvention
I find myself debating whether to continue my San Francisco Christmas traditions, especially since my memories of South Carolina Christmases are faint, having faded as my teenage years drew me away to other places—real and imagined. In truth, nothing from those early years survived into adulthood, and my heart drifted elsewhere.

Christmases in San Francisco: Found Family and Beloved Friends
One tradition that endures is the warmth and camaraderie I found in San Francisco, thanks to my dear friend Chuck Montgomery (rest in peace). Chuck, originally from Mississippi, kept his charming Southern accent even after decades in the city. He had a knack for making everyone feel welcome, especially those like me who had no blood family nearby. Every Christmas, I was invited to celebrate with Chuck, his lover, and whoever I happened to be seeing at the time—never the same person for long. By New Year's Day, I would be ready to start anew, always searching for permanence that seemed out of reach.

Chuck’s circle was vibrant and memorable. His lover was a flamboyant character who reminded me of the “hush-your-mouth, girl” women—full of sass and wit—and ran a vintage shop in Haight-Ashbury called Sugar Tits. Stranger still, I’ve met a woman in Peekskill who uncannily resembles him, only she’s a woman and her style evokes the iconic Sylvester, the singer.

Learning to Love and Finding Meaning
Back then, I was restless, never satisfied for long, always chasing the next connection. The notion of loving someone for ten years would have been unthinkable for me in 1997. Yet, life surprises us. I managed it. I suspect I could have loved Paul Langford forever, if not for his passing. Perhaps Christopher Roebuck, too—the one who looked like a young James Dean. Christopher was kind, and I loved him deeply, if not completely. But in those days, commitment was elusive, and everyone seemed to have someone else on the side. It was a different time, marked by uncertainty and change.

The Tradition I Cherish: Christmas Gumbo
Despite all the flux, one tradition from those San Francisco days remains dear to me: making Christmas Gumbo. Chuck’s gumbo, served at his Fillmore Street home, was legendary—an aromatic blend of sausages, chicken, seafood, and vegetables that brought everyone together. One Christmas stands out in my memory, spent with Thomas (my ex, who became my best friend), a German from Heidelberg. That year, Chuck invited a Jewish family and their son, along with the woman’s sister. We wondered if the mix of backgrounds would spark tension, but it turned out to be one of the most beautiful, harmonious Christmases I’ve ever experienced. Everyone got along, proving that the spirit of the holiday can transcend differences.

Looking Ahead
I miss those Christmases—celebrations with Chuck, his lover, and Thomas. This year, I intend to honor those memories by attempting Chuck’s Christmas Gumbo here in the Pearson house. As the Christ Tree comes together and traditions old and new mix, I hope to recapture some of that magic, connection, and joy. Here’s to making the holiday season meaningful, wherever we find ourselves, and to cherishing the people who make it special.