Christmas Memories
Posted: Tuesday, December 13, 2011
by Dianne Lehmann
Artisan Jewelry from SyZyGy
I wish that I could make some claim to memory fame, but the truth is that my earliest memories are pretty vague. I'm not ancient yet. That's still a few years off. But my first few Christmases are so long ago now that the colors are no longer bright. My memories have faded like the photos taken of them so long ago.
It's not the fault of my parents. They worked so hard and with so little to make each and every Christmas special and memorable. Mom baked and elaborately decorated enough sugar cookies to choke an elephant. Dad decorated the outside of the house with store bought lights and plywood cut outs of all sorts that he made and painted himself. Mom decked the inside of the house with so many shiny doodads that you'd have sworn you were in a dance hall with a mirror ball and about 3,000 watts of lighting. And for the first few years of my life, the tree was always real and didn't get put up until I, and then my sister and I, had gone to bed on Christmas Eve. The tree, like all the presents, arrived with Santa on his sleigh. Though I often wondered how he got into our house because we didn't have a fireplace. Unless you counted the fake electric one. I grew up in southern California, so what did you expect.
So let's see. There was the year that I got a doll I immediately fell in love with. My sister decided she liked it better than any of her gifts and tried to take it away from me. In the scuffle, the doll's nose was broken. I hadn't even had it for a day and already it was ruined. That wasn't too happy and it set the tone for future Christmases. I learned it was best not to fight with her about it and sooner or later she'd get tired of it and it would be mine again. I don't hold it against her today. She was young and didn't know any better. Today, she is still good at grabbing life and knowing how to really live.
There was Parky's first Christmas. We'd gotten him as a pup just that summer. He thought all the decorations, including our stockings were absolutely delicious. My sister and I woke up Christmas morning to find all the toys within them chewed to bits and most of the stockings eaten, along with everything on the lowest branches of the Christmas tree. He had the most interesting poop for several days. It was full of glitter and tinsel and sequins, colorful hunks of felt and bits of plastic toys. I was worried it would kill him, but he wasn't even bothered by all the glue and metal and plastic. That dog had an iron stomach.
Then there was the year that we were told we were getting a personal visit from Santa Claus. He was to arrive before we went to bed. I wasn't really too keen on the idea. I mean, who was Santa Claus really? I'd never seen him, except for the one that had you sit in his lap and tell him what you wanted for Christmas. And I was pretty sure he wasn'treally Santa Claus. Yeah sure, I'd been to Santa's Village in Skyforest near Lake Arrowhead in the San Bernardino Mountains of southern California, and I'd seen Santa in his workshop. But I'd always been told his workshop was at the North Pole and so I was pretty sure that wasn't really Santa either. A lot of all that didn't really figure. Frankly, it was quite confusing.
For my birthday that year, I'd received the most awesome present. My parents, grandmother and "uncle" Rod had all gone in together and bought me an Annie Oakley outfit. I was totally in love with Annie Oakley. I got a cowgirl hat, red vest with white fringe trim, red skirt with white fringe trim and conchos, cowgirl boots and a double holster set with two six-gun cap pistols. I'd have worn that thing to school every day if Mom would have allowed it.
My plan for Santa's visit was to dress as Annie Oakley, hide behind the sectional in the living room and ambush Santa Claus as he came in the front door. I didn't think that anyone, not even Santa, would mess with Annie Oakley. I did dress up and I did hide, but there was no ambushing. With the first ho-ho-ho, I knew it would be okay. It was actually "uncle" Rod. But my sister ran terrified from the living room and hid in her closet.
Of course, the Christmases where nothing much memorable happened were more numerous. Those were probably the best
These days, my husband (Bernd) and I don't make much of a fuss over Christmas. His family is all in Germany and my sister lives in San Bernardino (about eight hours from where I live in Dewey, Arizona, or about six hours if she is driving). We have only a couple of close friends and most of them don't care if they get a gift from us or not.
Bernd has always said that there should be a way to work at your job and still feel like you are on vacation. I think it's his goal to achieve this every day he works, but he's not had much success with it so far. One of the reasons we don't exchange gifts with each other or our friends is that we sort of live Christmas all year long. Or at least I like to look at it that way. And we've had some success with that.
If I look at all that Christmas is supposed to signify (to me at least), I find that a lot of those principles and ideals are the same as appeal to me all year long. And then, we tend to give gifts for no reason other than we were thinking of each other when we saw something and thought it would be appreciated. We do this with others as well. Why relegate such things to one time of the year?
I can't really remember my very first Christmas … or my second or my third. But I can remember what Christmas is all about. It's about togetherness and family holding you close. It's about friends gathered and eating too much fudge. It's about love and harmony and hope.
I wish you all happy memories and a bright future, health and contentment, and joy in living each moment of your life. MERRY CHRISTMAS!
This Article has been viewed 526 times. (Not updated in real-time.)
Top-level comments on this article: (2 total)All of our memories fade and blend together, don't they. There is realy no one Christmas. There is Christmas, when I was a kid, all of them together.Hi Jack.
Yes. That's a very good way of putting it.
Thanks for reading!
Hugs,
Dianne
Warm and homey. Love your style and your recollections. You have what appears to be a great ease in your writing. You come across wonderfully.Hi Christofer.
I don't know about "great ease" because it takes a fair amount of editing on my part to get it the way that I want it. :) But I do actually get what you mean and I thank you for that!
Thanks, too, for reading it.
Hugs,
Dianne
We want your comments! If you can read this, you don't have javascript enabled, so you can't use this comment system. Please enable javascript.