I was angry that Christmas because she was glued to CNN, my family only had one TV, and my mom said I had to let her do that instead of watching Rudolph. Rudolph only comes on once a year, mom! My mom grumpily told me that what was happening on the news had never happened in anyone's lifetime, and that I'd watch too if I knew what was good for me, because my grandkids would want to hear about it.
I literally have no idea what her ethnic background was. I don't think my folks even knew enough to know there were multiple ethnicities over there. It was sort of a thing where they needed someone and we had an extra bedroom, we probably were not the ideal host family because we didn't have a very international family, no one I knew had ever left the US.
She went back into the chaos in the spring. So keeping in contact wasn't in the cards. I hope her thrift store riches helped. She gave us kids some beautiful things from where she came from. A nesting doll and a handkerchief that was embroidered really prettily. Wish I still had them, but I've got pictures somewhere of her Christmas with us, which are some of my favorite of childhood. She was like a little kid herself that day (she was 20 and in college). Her country was falling apart that day and she still found joy in the stuffed animals and toys my parents had gotten her, imagining (rightly, as it turns out, though I'm sure today's left would think it was horribly patronizing) that she'd never gotten a chance to really be a kid the way we had.