Of Christmas' Past
I was going through the old birthday and Christmas cards I saved from my son as he was growing up. In their folds I found a letter to Santa Claus that he dictated to me while I typed. This brought up memories of Christmas’ past. Those most joyous are those of my childhood
As I read my son’s letter asking Santa to see Rudolph at Christmas, “so that he could play with my toys with him and I will share with him because he doesn’t have any arms”, it reminded me of my own infatuation with the red-nosed reindeer.
Up to their old tricks, my sisters told me that the red light on top of the radio tower in distance outside our upstairs window was really Rudolph. I stared in amazement and wondered why he wasn’t moving.
These timeless stories are brought up at every Christmas dinner as we sit around and tease each other either for the precocious antics of my older brother and sisters or the precious naivete of my younger brother and I.
One such story is when the older kids, after watching my father turn the clock back so my parents could get extra sleep, they stealthily crept back into the dark and moved the clock forward, not only the hour my father set it back to, but added a couple extra for good measure.
Or on another Christmas, while my parents snoozed, they snuck into the living room, pitch black and grasping around grabbed whatever package under the tree they could, then ran into the bathroom opening it to see if was one of theirs. (They never did say what they did with it if it wasn’t theirs).
Finally, my father catching on to their naughtiness, slept on the couch one Christmas, waiting for them to descend the stairs. When they arrived on cue the kids started to feel around in the dark by pawing the couch to get their bearings. The oldest realized that it wasn’t the couch or a present she was blindly touching, but my father’s face and nose.
Startled and gasping, all three ran upstairs giggling leaving my father laughing at himself for having nipped their impatient Christmas enthusiasm in the bud.
What my younger brother and I lacked in cleverness we made up for in gullibility.
In a staged visit in cahoots with Santa, neighbours and siblings, my father had taken us upstairs one Christmas eve to watch television on the black & white (we never watched t.v upstairs, but my brother and I didn’t clue in).
Suddenly, we heard loud thuds on the roof. Of course it caught our attention and my little brother asked my father what it was. We decided we would go downstairs to investigate. And, as we turned the corner into the living room, sat Santa on the couch.
My sister says she’ll never forget the expression on my little brother’s face as he exclaimed with excitement “Oh Santa!” We got to sit on his lap and tell him what we wanted.
For my brother it was a Whirly-Bird and I wanted a tea set to go with my new table and chairs I had gotten for my 5th birthday (the chairs, broken years later by the older ones as they sat on them playing euchre).
To our incredulity, not only did Santa pull out of his bag exactly what we wanted; he knew who our friends were and called them by name. We were flabbergasted!
Shortly after my brother lost his attention with his new automated toy helicopter he asked Santa to see his reindeer. When Santa replied they were out on the lawn we went immediately to the door to look.
We looked but couldn’t see anything. All we saw was the rain pounding and ricocheting off the road. We told Santa we couldn’t see them, but he told us to look harder. Then, my brother saw them first. Then me, agreeing that I saw them but knowing I didn’t. Not wanting to disappoint Santa, we told him we saw them. We believed we saw reindeer because we were mesmerized at the experience that Santa knew exactly what we wanted and who our friends were.
It wasn’t until years later we found out that Santa was our best friend’s uncle, who had dressed up as Santa to pay a visit to all of the kids we hung around with in the neighborhood. We were looking so hard for the reindeer we didn’t see his car parked in the driveway.
As for the noise on the roof, it was the three older siblings throwing rocks to make it sound like the reindeer had landed and my father had taken us upstairs to watch television so we would hear it.
I couldn’t think of nicer memories of Christmas’s past than those as a child
Merry Christmas Everyone!
As I read my son’s letter asking Santa to see Rudolph at Christmas, “so that he could play with my toys with him and I will share with him because he doesn’t have any arms”, it reminded me of my own infatuation with the red-nosed reindeer.
Up to their old tricks, my sisters told me that the red light on top of the radio tower in distance outside our upstairs window was really Rudolph. I stared in amazement and wondered why he wasn’t moving.
These timeless stories are brought up at every Christmas dinner as we sit around and tease each other either for the precocious antics of my older brother and sisters or the precious naivete of my younger brother and I.
One such story is when the older kids, after watching my father turn the clock back so my parents could get extra sleep, they stealthily crept back into the dark and moved the clock forward, not only the hour my father set it back to, but added a couple extra for good measure.
Or on another Christmas, while my parents snoozed, they snuck into the living room, pitch black and grasping around grabbed whatever package under the tree they could, then ran into the bathroom opening it to see if was one of theirs. (They never did say what they did with it if it wasn’t theirs).
Finally, my father catching on to their naughtiness, slept on the couch one Christmas, waiting for them to descend the stairs. When they arrived on cue the kids started to feel around in the dark by pawing the couch to get their bearings. The oldest realized that it wasn’t the couch or a present she was blindly touching, but my father’s face and nose.
Startled and gasping, all three ran upstairs giggling leaving my father laughing at himself for having nipped their impatient Christmas enthusiasm in the bud.
What my younger brother and I lacked in cleverness we made up for in gullibility.
In a staged visit in cahoots with Santa, neighbours and siblings, my father had taken us upstairs one Christmas eve to watch television on the black & white (we never watched t.v upstairs, but my brother and I didn’t clue in).
Suddenly, we heard loud thuds on the roof. Of course it caught our attention and my little brother asked my father what it was. We decided we would go downstairs to investigate. And, as we turned the corner into the living room, sat Santa on the couch.
My sister says she’ll never forget the expression on my little brother’s face as he exclaimed with excitement “Oh Santa!” We got to sit on his lap and tell him what we wanted.
For my brother it was a Whirly-Bird and I wanted a tea set to go with my new table and chairs I had gotten for my 5th birthday (the chairs, broken years later by the older ones as they sat on them playing euchre).
To our incredulity, not only did Santa pull out of his bag exactly what we wanted; he knew who our friends were and called them by name. We were flabbergasted!
Shortly after my brother lost his attention with his new automated toy helicopter he asked Santa to see his reindeer. When Santa replied they were out on the lawn we went immediately to the door to look.
We looked but couldn’t see anything. All we saw was the rain pounding and ricocheting off the road. We told Santa we couldn’t see them, but he told us to look harder. Then, my brother saw them first. Then me, agreeing that I saw them but knowing I didn’t. Not wanting to disappoint Santa, we told him we saw them. We believed we saw reindeer because we were mesmerized at the experience that Santa knew exactly what we wanted and who our friends were.
It wasn’t until years later we found out that Santa was our best friend’s uncle, who had dressed up as Santa to pay a visit to all of the kids we hung around with in the neighborhood. We were looking so hard for the reindeer we didn’t see his car parked in the driveway.
As for the noise on the roof, it was the three older siblings throwing rocks to make it sound like the reindeer had landed and my father had taken us upstairs to watch television so we would hear it.
I couldn’t think of nicer memories of Christmas’s past than those as a child
Merry Christmas Everyone!
posted by HR at 12/24/2005 04:19:00 p.m.
1 Comments:
HR, Merry Christmas and best wishes for a wonderful 2006!
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