Christmas Past ~ Christmas Present

It's the afternoon of Christmas Eve and I sit here at the computer. If I look out into the living room I see a well decorated fir tree with wrapped presents underneath. The stockings are hanging by the fireplace all full....poinsettias grace tables and on the landing of the stairs. Everything is ready for Christmas morn.

And for the upteenth time I wonder how my parents ever did it....for as a child, I never saw a lighted Christmas tree in my house till the morning of Christmas. Late into the night of Christmas Eve they must of hustled and bustled decorating the tree and putting together trains, wagons and bikes. This was a tradition my Dad brought from his family.

On the Saturday after Thanksgiving Dad would tear a red piece of material into three rags and hand each one of his three girls one. Then he would send us out into the forest alone and we would trudge around till we found three "perfect trees" that would be possibilties to be "the chosen one". On each one we would tie a red rag so that the day before Christmas when Dad would accompany us with his axe they would be easy to find. Inevitably, they were not easy to find...and many times we went home with a totally different tree all together. In the beginning, when we were very young, we begged our folks to participate in the tree decorating. But Dad always said the same words, "We were chosen by Santa because we were such good little girls that Santa himself with his elves wanted to decorate the tree we had chosen." And the funny thing is we bought this yarn like we did all his other stories. We truly believed we were "the chosen ones" because did we not receive under the tree on Christmas morning all that we had desired. You have to remember, we were very poor....and throughout the year, money was very scarce....and yet come Christmas morn, there sitting under the tree unwrapped were dolls, stuffed animals, baby carriages, cowboy outfits, skates and sleds. Little did we know then that Dad's family provided all this bounty. They understood that Dad would never be a good provider ...a good father, yes...but not a provider. Dad was a dreamer of dreams...a story teller. As a child I thought he was the most wonderful father in the world.  As a child, I learned what it meant to be  a part of a large family where everyone takes care of one another.

1950

1951

1948

And now we flash forward more then fifty years.  Although Dad died February 16, 1978, his spirit of family still lives on....and as a family we still gather together on Christmas afternoon to laugh and open presents as we did as children.  Now only Mom (91 years old) and Uncle Charlie (94 years old) are alive to join in the antics.  

There's two things Mom thinks are the most fantastic presents:  sheets and underwear.

As you can see....she got her wish!  Then Fran, as a joke asked me how I got images on my Christmas bags of us! At first Mom wasn't paying attention to the question and so Anne asked the question once more.

 As she turned around and studied the bag, she exclaimed, "Was this taken when you girls were young.  You have no clothes on.  I didn't raise you girls to go around like that...people will think you are hussies!"

And this is just one of the crazy conversations that took place this afternoon.  Christmas is a time to remember the past...but it is also a time to make new memories.

May the Spirit of Christmas Day fill your hearts with joy throughout the coming year.