They were always the same, those family Christmases. My father and his brothers would huddle around the liquor cabinet in the dining room, downing shots of Don Q rum, talking loudly. The women gathered in the living room, chattering about their children, a chorus of joys and some laments. The children in question, meanwhile, banged on the piano, ran in and out of the house, chased one another or, when we were older, danced late into the night.
Source: latimes.com – Los Angeles Times