Tuesday’s column shared memories of Christmas day and night. Hungry relatives helped in extracting the leftovers from the fridge and getting our Christmas dinner to the kitchen table for another feast. Christmas tunes were cranked out on the upright piano, and when Uncle Jim, Uncle Paul, Uncle Dick, Uncle Willy or Uncle Russ needed another cold beer, we trekked outside to retrieve it from a snow bank. Numerous cases of Iron City, Fort Pitt, Duke and Rolling Rock beer were tucked into the snow. When the party was over, the beer wasn’t retrieved. An overnight low of 18 degrees exploded the beer bottles, leaving “beer snow” on the snow-covered lawn. Our Mom diligently chased away neighborhood kids attempting to eat the snow, hoping for a meltdown.