PRISMS AND POLKA DOTS

One of my readers out in New York has asked me to share how my family spent Christmas Day when I was around 8-10 years old.  

It was when I was 8, that our Christmases changed.  Up until then, my family of four (mom, daddy, brother) lived in an old 3-story stone house on the farm.  The only Christmas memory in that house is when I must've been around 8 that Santa brought me a yellow and black bicycle.  That bike is a story for another day.

When I was 8, my parents built a new ranch-style house with 3 bedrooms, a bath, living room, kitchen and full basement.  We celebrated Christmas on Christmas Eve, starting with oyster stew for supper.  That was the only time we had those little round crackers that floated on top of the milk.  To me, that was pretty cool.  

Every Christmas in the new house I remember Mom making chocolate fudge, white divinity and she'd fill dates with marshmallow cream topped with a half of a pecan.  I remember, too, the little white mice.  

After supper, we'd go to the living room.  Mom was our Santa, so she was in charge of the gifts, putting up the tree, the decorating, and all that was required to have fun on Christmas.  Before exchanging presents, I would sit down to our upright piano and play Christmas carols and our family sang Silent Night, The First Noel, The Little Town of Bethlehem, Away in a Manger, and would finish with Jingle Bells.

In our family every Christmas each person would open their presents, one at a time.  This way everyone would get to see what the others got.  This made each of us feel special, and that's how our Christmases for all the years were.  Never did we all just pile into the presents.  

Back in the 1950s, our presents weren't like they are today.  Actually, the bicycle was the biggest present I ever got.  Mom knew what gifts we'd enjoy, so that's what she got us.  But, they weren't large expensive presents.  Daddy's present was always the very last.  During Christmas week, he'd go uptown to the bank and get new crispy dollar bills, and there was an envelope for each of us.  He'd paste a Christmas sticker on the front of the envelope and in his slanted lefty penmanship he'd write To Leanne from "Dad."  In the early years we'd each get $2, but as we grew into adults we'd each get $5.  And, this is where I must say that I still have the last $5 that Daddy gave me when I was 34 years old, the year he died and left me with a shattered heart.

I really don't remember what we did on Christmas Day itself.  It was all about Christmas Eve.  I still have four of our original ornaments, one of which is a fish, my all-time favorite.  It's packed away in a box that's marked "do not throw away."

Here I am today, the only one of the four of us that's left.  I've officially been adopted by the G-clan, and that's where I now spend Christmas.  But, those memories from when I was 8-10 years old, well, those are kept in my head and heart.  I treat them like they're made of glass.  

Thank you, Tall Cottage, for asking me to share these memories.