Every Christmas night since forever, I’ve always been blessed enough to sit around somebody’s fireplace. After the whirlwind of gifts are opened and I’ve almost caught the house afire burning amazon boxes and wrapping paper in the fireplace. After the kids have retreated to their rooms to tinker with their Santa loot. I always find something good to drink. What I drink depends on how many folks I’ve had go in and out of my house during the holidays, how many political conversations I’ve endured and how many times I’ve had to get out the mop bucket. A few years ago we had about fifty eleven people here for Christmas. Our housekeeper who was far more than a housekeeper to us had fallen on difficult times and she was living with us along with her two small children. We had in total about 12 people sleeping here that Christmas Eve. As many as 18 the days before. That year- Russian tea didn’t cover it. Needed a nip of peppermint schnapps in my wassail and some Bailey’s in the egg nog! It was a wonderful Christmas though. It’s funny how hard we try to create Christmas memories for kids, when the things kids remember are very seldom things at all. My most vivid Christmas memories are these:
*When I was a little girl my daddy owned a lumber yard. He also sold Christmas trees, or I guess he did. Anyhow, when my teacher asked if anyone could donate a Christmas tree to the classroom I shot out of my chair at the blue square table so fast I’m sure it scared the chalk off the blackboard. Several kids volunteered and the teacher said whoever brought one first. I don’t even know what my daddy had to do to get that tree to my elementary classroom early the next morning but he did and I have never forgotten it. I thought I was something else and I ranked my Daddy right up under the sweet baby Jesus. I’m 42 years old and I still do.
*I think I was in 2nd grade when our house burned on Christmas Eve. I don’t remember being sad about presents at all. What I do remember is that Ms Gay Martorell, my 2nd grade teacher brought me a blue sweater vest and a plaid shirt. I can tell you exactly what that sweater looked like. If I was any kind of artist I could draw you the exact stitching. That’s how vividly I remember it.
*Daddy used to load up our whole family, extended family too, in his big blue delivery truck. He covered the floor with hay and we all caroled around Hartwell. I could barely see over the side rails but I can remember being so cold in the north Georgia night, I’d burrow myself in the hay and fall asleep with visions of Santa, reindeer, and Hershey kisses in my head.
*I remember Gail Brown singing Watchman Tell Us of the Night at The First Presbyterian Church on Christmas Eve so beautifully that it captivated the attention of a kid who was delirious with Santa excitement.
*I remember Ms Beverly Dove and Ms Hope Williams teaching our 4th grade class to sing What Child is This for our Christmas program at school. I still have the mimeographed copy in Ms Dove’s handwriting.
*I don’t know how far back in my daddy’s Family the tradition goes but when he was a kid he got stockings from Santa in REAL nylons. Like real panty hose weighted down to the floor with oranges and cracker jacks. My brother and I used to drag those things around clear through January. We always got them growing up and now my kids get them even though they’re weighted down with Reese’s cups and snickers bars now.
*When I was a little girl my daddy owned a lumber yard. He also sold Christmas trees, or I guess he did. Anyhow, when my teacher asked if anyone could donate a Christmas tree to the classroom I shot out of my chair at the blue square table so fast I’m sure it scared the chalk off the blackboard. Several kids volunteered and the teacher said whoever brought one first. I don’t even know what my daddy had to do to get that tree to my elementary classroom early the next morning but he did and I have never forgotten it. I thought I was something else and I ranked my Daddy right up under the sweet baby Jesus. I’m 42 years old and I still do.
*I think I was in 2nd grade when our house burned on Christmas Eve. I don’t remember being sad about presents at all. What I do remember is that Ms Gay Martorell, my 2nd grade teacher brought me a blue sweater vest and a plaid shirt. I can tell you exactly what that sweater looked like. If I was any kind of artist I could draw you the exact stitching. That’s how vividly I remember it.
*Daddy used to load up our whole family, extended family too, in his big blue delivery truck. He covered the floor with hay and we all caroled around Hartwell. I could barely see over the side rails but I can remember being so cold in the north Georgia night, I’d burrow myself in the hay and fall asleep with visions of Santa, reindeer, and Hershey kisses in my head.
*I remember Gail Brown singing Watchman Tell Us of the Night at The First Presbyterian Church on Christmas Eve so beautifully that it captivated the attention of a kid who was delirious with Santa excitement.
*I remember Ms Beverly Dove and Ms Hope Williams teaching our 4th grade class to sing What Child is This for our Christmas program at school. I still have the mimeographed copy in Ms Dove’s handwriting.
*I don’t know how far back in my daddy’s Family the tradition goes but when he was a kid he got stockings from Santa in REAL nylons. Like real panty hose weighted down to the floor with oranges and cracker jacks. My brother and I used to drag those things around clear through January. We always got them growing up and now my kids get them even though they’re weighted down with Reese’s cups and snickers bars now.
Mama says some Christmases were plentiful and some were tight. So funny how as a child I couldn’t tell the difference. I’m more thankful tonight for good Christmas memories than I am for any material thing I had then or have now.
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