Christmas Memories

Snow. Lights. Evergreens. Red. Green. Bows. Colorful paper. Carols. Sing Along with Mitch Miller. Candles. Midnight church services. Manger Scenes. Ornaments. Stars. ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas. Stockings. Roast Turkey. Homemade sugar cookies. Homemade pies. Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer. Hot cider. Miracle on 34th Street. Advent calendars. It’s A Wonderful Life. Parties. Guests. Charity. Family. Love. Warmth. And, of course, gifts.

These are the things I expect every Christmas. Every Christmas, since I was a child. One of my earliest Christmas memories involved going to a big place, maybe to the downtown Detroit Hudson’s store or Cobo Hall. My parents gave each of us four kids some money (it seemed like a fortune at the time.) We would all go off by pairs – my older and younger brothers one team and my younger sister and myself the other – to explore the special, kid-friendly displays of possible gifts.

We would buy our little knick-knacks (animal-shaped soap, handkerchiefs, small stuffed animals, crayons, etc.) for each other and for our parents, sometimes switching partners so our purchases could stay secret. There was a wrapping table – they did it for us free. There were decorated shopping bags in which we put our secret gifts. Finally, Mom and Dad would hold our bags and we would go play in the indoor winter wonderland playground. I remember climbing up the stairs on the inside of a big snowman. When at the top, I found a very high and long slide. I was afraid to go down but my older brother sat behind me and we soared down the dark tunnel emerging into the light at the bottom, landing on a huge pile of cotton snow. I was hooked and impatiently waited for my turn to climb up again and soar down, by myself this time.

Once we were all tired, or once Mom and Dad were tired, we went to stand, or sit on the floor, waiting our turns to tell Santa what we wanted for Christmas. My parents were listening carefully, hoping they guessed well because they already had their shopping done. I imagine now, as a mother to my kids, there were times when they had not gotten anything we asked Santa for, so they would take one more trip to the store to pick up the least expensive asked-for gift. (I remember poring over the J.C. Penney’s Christmas Catalog each year, bending the corners of the pages where I wanted something. Maybe they didn’t miss anything – of course there was always the chance that we told Santa a completely different list of stuff from than what we marked in the catalog!)

The long day over, we would fall asleep during the 45-minute drive home. We were happy and content. We were excited and expectant. We impatiently waited for Christmas morning.