I remember...

Christmases past.

It's funny how childhood memories came flooding over me this morning with regard to Christmas. And I may have even mentioned some of these in past blogs, If these sound familiar, stop reading at any point, I won't be offended.

I'll start with Christmas stockings.  First, we grew up thinking if we were naughty there would be coal in the stocking...and that could indeed happen because we had a furnace that burned coal and the coal pit was always full by mid September when dad would order a ton or so of it.  So, I tried very hard to be good...starting the week before Christmas.

And, we had stockings that were normally filled with apples, oranges and assorted nuts.  My favorite was the Brazil nut.  There would also be a candy cane tucked into the sock that we could eat at our leisure, while the other goodies were returned to the kitchen where anybody could partake of the fruit and nuts...again, my favorite was the Brazil nut.  Sooo, good...hard to crack open...but the meat was wonderful.

Then I remember dad setting up the tree for us to decorate.  When we were very small it sat untrimmed until Christmas Eve, when Santa not only delivered a few gifts, but decorated the tree as well.  As we got older, we would decorate the tree ourselves.  Some of the ornaments were very old even as I was a child, and the same ones re-appeared on the tree year after year.  Dad was very safety conscious, and always anchored the tree to the wall so it would not topple over.  One year, my older sister and I were left alone one afternoon, and we decided we would surprise everyone by having the decorating done when they got home from wherever it was they had gone.

Diligently we worked, and the tree was lovely, we were so pleased with our labors.  We stood back to admire our work, and...the...tree...fell...over.  Fortunately we were able to put the tree upright without damaging any of the ornaments, then gingerly tip-toed around the room so as to not have it topple over again.  When dad got home he anchored it to the wall, finally I understood why he did this every year.

I remember the first time my sister and I went Christmas shopping downtown, taking the bus, by ourselves...Alone.  Oh, what an adventure.  We had just enough money to go to Woolworths, Five and Dime to buy one gift for everybody in the family.  Woolworths was carrying a new product, one I thought my mother would love.  It was a little bottle filled with an oil, with an orange blossom scent that you were supposed to drop onto a light bulb, that when heated up would send orange blossoms throughout the room.  So, I bought one.  Later on the bus ride home my sister and I shared what our gifts were...lo and behold, she had bought mom the exact same gift.  What a giggle we got over that. (Now that I think about it, I don't believe she ever, once, used this orange blossom scented liquid.)

I remember chocolate chip and sugar cookies, pumpkin and apple pies, and chestnuts roasted in the oven, especially the year they exploded.

We always attended the candlelight service at Mount Calvary Lutheran Church.  How beautiful it was, how touching, how sweet the songs.  The pews would be packed with people who came infrequently over the year...those who showed up on Thanksgiving, Christmas Eve and Sunrise Easter Service.  The building rafters would vibrate from the multitude of singers. It made my heart swell.

Oh my, what a joy this has been, this holiday remembering.  I wonder, have I told my children all these memories?  I must, if I have not.

What are your childhood Christmas memories?  I hope you think about sharing them with your children, too.