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17 Nov 03 - 12:28 PM (#1055540) Subject: BS: Christmas Remembrances From: Jerry Rasmussen "Christmas is coming, the goose is getting fat." And nervous. Christmas is a time of remembrances. I realize that not all memories are joyful. Not all of mine are. But, I'm inviting you all to share good memories of Christmas. Here's one of mine: Back when I was a little kid, and still believed in Santa Clause, we had a family tradition we followed at Christmas. I grew up in Wisconsin, and most families I knew opened presents on Christmas Eve. As far as I was concerned, Christmas Eve started the second I finished wolfing down my supper. As soon as everyone else finished eating, my Mother would take me and my two older sisters down into the basement. Even though we put up a tree well in advance of Christmas, we didn't put the presents under the tree. I knew for a fact that Santa didn't bring presents until Christmas Eve. (I was willing to suspend belief in him coming down our little chimney into our coal furnace, though.) While my Mother and sisters and I were downstairs, my Father would stay upstairs, and hide behind the couch, so he could see Santa. As soon as the basement door was safely closed, my father would tiptoe across the room, and out onto the porch. When he reached the screen porch door, he'd slam it loudly (which had to be traumatic for him, as he always yelled at us kids when we slammed the door) and then come stomping his way across the porch and into the house, with many loud, "Ho, Ho Ho's." Then, he'd tiptoe into the bedroom, get all the presents out of hiding (there weren't all that many when I was a kid) and place them under the Christmas tree. When he was done, he'd stomp his way back across the lving room floor, out through the dining room and onto the porch calling "Merry Christmas to all. When he got to the screen porch door he'd slam it loudly as he "left." Then, he'd tiptoe back into the house, and walk over to the basement door and call down to us, "You can come up now, he's gone." When we came upstairs my eyes would be popping with excitement, and I'd ask my Dad if he'd seen Santa. (the couch would still be pushed away from the wall, where Dad had been hiding.) He'd always tell me that he'd peaked around the arm of the couch when Santa wasn't looking, and watched him putting the presents under the tree. And my imagination did the rest. When I started school, and I was beginning to have my doubts, other kids would tell me that Santa Clause wasn't real. I'd counter with, "Yes he is, my Father SAW him!" After I knew that there was no real "Santa Clause," it didn't bother me all that much. I felt lucky that I lived with Mr. and Mrs. Santa Clause, 365 days out of the year. Any memories out there? Jerry |
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17 Nov 03 - 01:01 PM (#1055577) Subject: RE: BS: Christmas Remembrances From: GUEST,ClaireBear My husband is a certified curmudgeon and HATES Christmas. I find that sad and a bit maddening -- especially since, as a self-proclaimed seasonal affective disorder victim, he has more need than most of the joy, warmth and light that [insert your favorite midwinter holiday here] is supposed to bring. I, on the other hand, love Christmas -- something I learned from my father. My father's family loved the holiday so much that, one year when they were especially poor, they wrapped up the furniture (in old newspapers, I believe the story goes) and "gave" it to each other for Christmas. That's the spirit! Claire |
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17 Nov 03 - 08:35 PM (#1055832) Subject: RE: BS: Christmas Remembrances From: Mary in Kentucky One Christmas Eve a friend loaned Hubby her "deluxe" Santa suit, red velvet, nice beard, jingle bells, glasses, etc. (picture of us here.) We had a lot of fun driving around to friends' houses and surprising them. We would park the car a couple of blocks away, the kids and I would stay in the car, then Hubby would just walk into a house and start talking to people. They couldn't tell who he was, but knew he was a friend because he would greet everyone by name, even visiting relatives, and ask about all the pets, etc. It was a special event for Anna. Here in Bardstown many Catholic families go to midnight mass on Christmas Eve and return home to find that Santa has been there. Little Anna was at the age of doubting that Santa really existed. Hubby was walking down the street when her family drove by -- he said, "Hi Anna, it's OK to go on home, I've already been to your house." She "believed" for several more years! |
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17 Nov 03 - 11:00 PM (#1055893) Subject: RE: BS: Christmas Remembrances From: mack/misophist Remembrances, yes. Welcome, no. Long hours, hard work, short rations to pay for a dinner composed of things I didn't care for. I don't do that any more. |
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17 Nov 03 - 11:03 PM (#1055898) Subject: RE: BS: Christmas Remembrances From: Jerry Rasmussen Hey, Mack... that sounds mysterious... hope you're making new memories now that you can enjoy... however that might be.. Jerry |
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18 Nov 03 - 12:33 AM (#1055945) Subject: RE: BS: Christmas Remembrances From: Bill D well, there was the year my brother got a bale of hay under the tree! *grin* I was about 12, and he was 9, and he wanted an archery set, so I got him one...but a backdrop for a target was a problem, so my weird Uncle Doug went out to a farm he knew and bought 3 bales of hay...and we all decided to put a PINK ribbon around one and put it under..(actually, in front of) the tree, and tell my brother he was gaining too much weight, and this was his new diet! It was not till he opened the archery set that he figured it out. |