Air Date: Week of December 26, 2025

On Christmas, the windows in Jay O’Callahan’s childhood home were each dressed with a white candle—a sign of hope and peace for the season and the New Year. (Photo: Anne; Flickr CC BY-NC-SA 2.0)

Master storyteller Jay O’Callahan joins Host Steve Curwood to share some tales about his family during the holiday season. O’Callahan recalls his community’s tradition of Christmas caroling and how it brought hope to his mother in a time of darkness and for Christmases to come, and he shares stories of an imaginative young girl named Mary.

Transcript

CURWOOD: From PRX and the Jennifer and Ted Stanley studios at the University of Massachusetts Boston, this is Living on Earth. I’m Steve Curwood.
This time of year, when the sun is lowest in the northern sky and the days are short, we take a break from the often urgent pace of environmental news and information to celebrate life with some stories and songs, as folks gather together with friends and family.

So make yourself comfortable.

Maybe throw another log on the fire, or perhaps get out of the passing lane, and get ready to share performances with us, starting with a true journey to hope and fulfillment with master storyteller Jay O'Callahan.

[MUSIC]

CURWOOD: Jay tours nationally, bringing his stories to a wide variety of audiences, but he’s no stranger to Living on Earth, and we're delighted to have him back to celebrate the holiday season. Great to see you, Jay.

[MUSIC]

CURWOOD: Jay tours nationally, bringing his stories to a wide variety of audiences, but he’s no stranger to Living on Earth, and we're delighted to have him back to celebrate the holiday season. Great to see you, Jay.

O'CALLAHAN: It's wonderful to be back.

CURWOOD: Our theme is “Home For the Holidays,” and, Jay, you have a personal story about home and family when you were growing up and you and your sisters went caroling.

O'CALLAHAN: Yes, Steve, it's called "Christmas Candles", and here's the story.

When I was a little boy, Christmas Eve was very special. My sisters and I would run down the outside back stairs. It would be dark and cold. We'd run halfway across the street, and we would turn and look at our house. It was a big old house and it would be dark, but there would be a lit candle in every window. My sister Maureen would do it with my dad, and Maureen never forgot things. It would take our breath away.

Then we'd run across the street to the Graham's and Dr. Graham would take us Christmas caroling. Maybe 12 or 14 neighborhood kids. We'd go all over the neighborhood. Dr. Graham was the director of the Faulkner Hospital in Jamaica Plain -- that's in Boston -- and he would work seven days a week, but -- a few days before Christmas Eve, he would come home early. He would gather us all in the living room to conduct us. Music was very important to him. He would bend over and conduct with his hands and his eyes and we would sing [SINGS QUIETLY] Venite adoremus. Then he would stand up a little straighter [SINGS A LITTLE LOUDER] Venite... Then he’d stand all the way up [SINGS LOUDLY] Venite adoremus. We felt very important.

But then came the Christmas Eve when everything was different. My mother, usually full of energy, she was tired that day and she was pale. Three days before she’d given birth to my brother Christopher. Christopher! I had three sisters and now a brother, Christopher. He had this big name, “Christopher.” I had this little name, “Jay,” but he was Christopher. I could imagine Christopher coming home wearing his diapers carrying the car. "Christopher's home!"

But Christopher didn't come home. Something was wrong, maybe it was his heart. So mother was worried all that Christmas Eve day. Daddy was out shopping with Uncle Neal, which meant he might come home festive. Later in the day there was a phone call. Mother picked it up, and the doctor said, "Your baby is dying. There's nothing we can do," and he hung up. It was so abrupt.

Daddy came home and he was furious. He called, got the doctor and said, "Listen. That is no way to tell anyone their child is dying. We’ll be right down there."

So we went down to the hospital. We were on the third floor. We went all the way down. It was this glassed-in area. We could see these little babies, and one of the babies was turning blue. It was Christopher. Another doctor came over and said to Dad, "There is a new procedure. We replace the blood. We'll know in a few days."

So we went home, not knowing whether Christopher was going to live or die. Dad helped mother up our wide front stairs into the room. He came out of the room. It was dark, and he saw us in the hallway, and he said, "There's nothing you can do. Just hope for the best. Go Christmas caroling."

So we ran down the outside back stairs, halfway across the street and turned. We were so disappointed. All the electric lights were on. Even Maureen had forgot to light the white candles. And Dr. Graham took us all over the neighborhood. He always knew who was hurt and sad and lonely. We would go to the Free Hospital For Women. We would do the Christmas caroling in the big ward, and the whole thing took two hours. So that night we came back over the hill towards our house, and we all stopped and looked at our big old house. It was all dark, but there was a lit white candle in every window. And Dr. Graham said, “We're going to sing one more carol, for your mother.”

And we did something we'd never done before. We walked around behind the house and we were singing up towards mother's window on the second-floor. The window was all black, but there was that white candle. We were singing “The First Noel.” He was conducting us, and then mother appeared in the window wearing a white house coat. She looked like an angel.

Ten years later we were finishing up the Christmas caroling, and Dr. Graham said, "One more carol." It was a tradition now. We always sang up to mother's window. So we were singing, and as we were singing… I had my college sweater on... Singing “The First Noel,” mother appeared as she always did and then I looked...My sister was beside me, Maureen, and she was crying. And I thought, "Oh, she's just been married. She's going off to Chicago." And then I realized she was crying because she was standing beside Christopher. He was 10 years old.

CURWOOD: You got me with that one, Jay.

O'CALLAHAN: Good.

CURWOOD: I just got that catch in my throat. So your brother lived.

O'CALLAHAN: My brother lived. He loves to hear that story only because of that moment. If they had not replaced the blood, he would've died. And it was just a new procedure at the time. So he was something like negative, but it was only that other doctor who happened to hear and come over.

CURWOOD: So he's your family's Christmas present all these years.

O'CALLAHAN: Yes it's true. I told that at Thanksgiving, and Christopher said, "Good ending!". [LAUGHS]

[MUSIC]

CURWOOD: Jay O'Callahan, storyteller, is with us this holiday special, and you have a story about Mary. Now, as I understand it, she's an imaginative, really highly creative girl, and she uses that creativity to make sense of the world that grown-ups present to her.

O'CALLAHAN: Yes, Steve, and these stories were made up when my daughter was seven and eight and nine. If my son was asleep she would get Mary stories. If she was asleep, my son would get Willie stories. And I think that the stories try to reflect my daughter's own playfulness and imagination and making sense of the world when you're seven and eight and nine. Whenever there was an event like New Year's Eve or some special holiday, she would want a Mary story about that, and that's how this story came along.

CURWOOD: Well, since New Year's Eve is coming, Jay, tell us how Mary figured in how to ring in the new year.

O'CALLAHAN: Mary was eight years old. She lived in New York City. She loved the color red. Her uncles and aunts would give her a red belt, red socks, a red hat. Her mother designed dresses. Her mother would show Mary a design, and she'd say, "I know, Mary, it’s good but not enough red. Is that right?", Mary would say "Yes." Mary was the only one on the bus who hoped the bus would have to stop for a red light.

Her mother said a few days before New Year's, "Mary, why don't you stay up until midnight, to toast the new year in with your father and I."
"Oh no. I'm going to a party."
"You are?"
"Yes, I'm the guest of honor."
Nothing more was said.

For New Year's Eve, Mary dressed up in her red dress, black bow, black belt. She had supper with her parents. It was almost 9 o'clock, and her mother said, "Only three more hours."
"Oh no, I have to go. Good night."
Kissed her parents goodbye, ran down the hall, opened a door, stepped into her room, put on the light and the guests said, "Welcome, Mary!"
Mary went right to her table, and she turned the clock the ahead almost three hours so it looked like two minutes to midnight. Then she looked at the guests, 60 guests, all made of toothpicks in little clay bases. 30 of the guests had black crêpe paper. They were the men dancers. 30 of the guests had red crêpe paper. They were the women dancers.

Then she got the fan, turned it on, and the fan rotated back and forth so the dancers leaned back [SHHH, SHHH] and sprang forward [SHHH, SHHH] and back on the table. The needle on the old-fashioned record her grandmother had given her with the New Year's music. [SINGS MELODY OF AULD LANG SYNE.]
"Hurry, Mary," the guests said, "Hurry, Mary!"
She ran over to the corner where she had a dollhouse and she had a tiny glass with just one drop of cherry soda. She lifted the glass and she said, "Happy New Year!"
"You're the best, Mary!"
"Oh, no..."
"Yes, you're the best."
"I suppose..."
The real New Year's came, and her parents came down to check on Mary. They opened the door. The light was on. Mary was sound asleep in the bed with her red dress. The fan was going on, and the dancers [SHHH-SHHH] going back and forth. And the needle was on the end of the record going [TICK, TICK]. Her father took the needle off, shut the victrola off, and her mother covered Mary. The two of them toasted their daughter, then they left to turn the light out, but they left the fan on so the dancers could dance the New Year in [SHHH-SHHH-SHHH-SHHH].

CURWOOD: Well, Mary has a great world, doesn't she?

O'CALLAHAN: [LAUGHS] She does. Imagination can do anything.

CURWOOD: So, she understands what's important about the New Year, and then I guess a few weeks later she is challenged by another tradition. This time, it's the Super Bowl.

O'CALLAHAN: Yes.

[MUSIC]

CURWOOD: We'll be back in a few moments with more about Mary from storyteller Jay O'Callahan. Stay tuned to Living on Earth.

[MUSIC]

ANNOUNCER: Support for Living on Earth comes from the Waverley Street Foundation, working to cultivate a healing planet with community-led programs for better food, healthy farmlands, and smarter building, energy and businesses.

[CUTAWAY MUSIC: Modern Mandolin Quartet, Russian Dance, “Trepak”, arr. M. Imholz and P. Binkley, orig. comp. Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky in The Nutcracker Suite, Op. 71a (Sono Luminus 2011)]

CURWOOD: It's an encore Living on Earth holiday season show. I'm Steve Curwood. We're back with Jay O'Callahan for more about Mary. This one takes our heroine into the New Year. For Mary, a certain pro-sports event turns into an opportunity to play her own game. So Jay, what is the story?

O'CALLAHAN: Steve, this Mary story is called "Super Bowl Sundae.”

Mary, eight-years-old, lives in New York, loves the color red. Sunday evening, she'll say to her dad, "Let's play checkers," and she would have the red checkers. Or they would go walking, and her dad would say, "Look at that dog on the red leash," and she might say, "Look at that nose on that red face". She loves the color red. So one Sunday evening she ran in the living room, "All right, Dad, let's play checkers!"
"Oh no, no, no, Mary, this is Superbowl Sunday."
"What's that?"
"Oh, this is the best football game of the year. I've been waiting all year for this, Mary. On the table, Mary, I've got everything you want there, cheese, sandwiches, pickles. Now, look at the television."
She looked at the television, and it showed thousands of people in the stadium, and then it showed the football players: the two teams facing one another. The two teams bent down and then they fell on the ground. Boring. But they got up, they faced one another, they got down, they fell on the ground.
"Daddy, this is boring."
"No, no, defense is the name of the game. Defense is the name of the game, Mary. Now watch this."
So boring. She went into the kitchen, opened the refrigerator and, ah, there was a jar of red cherries. Her mother called them “maraschino” cherries. So she took the jar out and she poured the juice into a cup. She had an idea. She would have her own Super Bowl. She had a pewter tray, and she put 23 teeny, little maraschino cherries on the end of the tray. It was going to be maraschinos against the bananas. She got the bananas. She cut slices two inches high. 23 bananas, two inches high, they were on the other end. Now it was maraschinos against the bananas! Now, she needed a stadium, so she got the popcorn going, "Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop." She filled seven, big bowls with popcorn, and the popping kept going on. "Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop. Pop." Now, she needed a referee so she had an olive that was the referee. Last thing she needed was the kitchen timer. She put it at three minutes. That was plenty. And now, the Super Bowl was beginning. She lifted up the tray and the teeny little maraschino cherries started down towards the huge bananas. The maraschinos, they were all stopped except for one teeny maraschino who slipped through the bananas and scored. Mary was so excited that she twisted the tray, and the maraschino who scored fell onto the floor, and she stepped on him. Uh-oh! She picked him up. She was the ambulance. [SIREN] She went down to where her mother had needle and thread, and then she went back to the kitchen. [SIREN] Now she had to operate on poor maraschino.

"Are you ready?"
"Yes."
"Are you frightened?"
"No."
"Oh, but I better put you to sleep."
So she opened the refrigerator. She got the Limburger cheese that smells so terrible. She put it close to the maraschino. Oh, he fainted! She cut him open, sewed him up and put him on the plate. Then, she went back, and there was only a minute and a half left. Now it was the bananas’ turn, so she lifted up the pewter tray and the bananas were stuck to the tray. She put it down, and she turned the bananas so they were on their side, and she lifted the tray and the huge bananas went rolling and rolling down, and they rolled right over the maraschinos, and they scored. Now it was one to one. She set the two teams up, and the bananas said, "Make us a wall."
"What?"
"Make us a wall."
So the bananas were one wall. Poor maraschinos were going to have to get through them. She lifted the tray. The maraschinos started down towards the wall of banana.
"Put me in."
"What?"
"Put me in."
It was the maraschino that had been operated on.
"I can't. You've been hurt."
"No, put me in!"
"All right!"
She put the brave maraschino in and the whole stadium said, "Brave, maraschino! Brave, maraschino!"
It was only seven seconds left. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two. One second. The brave maraschino jumped over the bananas and scored! Mary was so excited she jumped around and she took the seven bowls of popcorn, threw the popcorn all over the kitchen, and then she paraded! [BARUM, BARUM, BARUM]
Then she said, "Maraschinos, you deserve a prize. Bananas, you were good too. Tomorrow, you'll be banana bread but, maraschinos, you get the prize." And so she got a bowl and she filled it with vanilla ice cream, chocolate ice cream, strawberry ice cream, and then chocolate sauce. Whipped cream.
"It's for you."
"No, it's for you."
"No, no it's for you.”
“No, you're the best!"
"I suppose I am."
So Mary ate the whole Super Bowl sundae and then she looked around the stadium... popcorn everywhere. The fans hadn't cleaned up. She had to clean the whole stadium. She was tired now, and she went down to her room. She got into bed, and an hour later her dad came.
"Oh, what a game. Oh, my stomach, my stomach. Where's the AlkaSeltzer? Come on, we'll play checkers."
"No, no. I'm tired."
"Well, you better have supper."
"No, Dad, I don't need supper. Good night."
"Well, good night."
He started down the hall. He could hear Mary saying, "Brave maraschino. Brave maraschino."

CURWOOD: Jay O'Callahan. Mary and the maraschino cherry. [LAUGHS] Didn't she top the sundae with the cherries?

O'CALLAHAN: [LAUGHS] She decided that they should go back into the jar with the juice. So she missed that one part, but she looked forward to the next year when they would have another parade.

CURWOOD: I got a suspicion that Mary is really you, Jay O'Callahan. [LAUGHS] So the cherries back in the bottle, That means there is a promise for the future?

O'CALLAHAN: Exactly. Exactly. And every day when she opens that up she smiles, seeing those red cherries.

CURWOOD: Ahhh, so there is hope, there is fun ahead for us.

O'CALLAHAN: There is lots of hope. Lots of hope. Everybody get your maraschino cherries.

CURWOOD: Jay O'Callahan is an extraordinary storyteller who joins us from time to time. Thank you so much for coming by this year.

O'CALLAHAN: And thank you, Steve. It was a delight as always.

 

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