Christmas

Christmas was a very big deal for us when we were kids. I can remember going through the Sears catalog with Paul and picking favorite toys to ask Santa to bring. We’d ask Donald and John to help us write letters to the North Pole and then could hardly wait for Christmas morning.

When I was five or six Lynn Burrows whispered to me that there really wasn’t any Santa Claus—that your folks buy those presents and just make up stories about Santa. I didn’t want to believe him and didn’t say anything at home for fear of “spoiling the game.” But after that Christmas I told Mother and Dad that I “knew,” and next holiday season I enjoyed my role in pretending about Santa with Paul and Mary Grace.

About a week before Christmas we would move Mother’s sewing machine into the storeroom and set up the Christmas tree in front of the north window in the dining room. It wasn’t a real tree; it started with a very clever wood-and-wire tree-like frame that Grandpa Garman had built—and we added small evergreen branches cut from the pine trees in the front yard. When we finished it looked surprisingly realistic. We then decorated it with strings of popcorn on red yarn, tinfoil icicles, ornaments and a star—and it was beautiful!

There were seven of us in the family and seven doors in our dining room, so each of us pinned a pair of socks together and hung them over a doorknob on Christmas Eve. (These were not fancy, decorated holiday socks—just plain everyday ones.) Then came the long, long wait for Christmas morning.

Christmas morning was always magical! There were mysterious packages under the tree and each sock had an orange, some nuts (in the shell) and a few pieces of hard candy. We took turns opening presents and had a great time--probably the highlight of the year.

In her 1931 diary Mother listed the Christmas gifts that each of us received. I had just turned eight then; here’s what I got: a belt, a book, a pencil box, two boxes of stationery and a “history of the U.S. in moving pictures.” I can’t recall that last item and have no idea how those “moving pictures” worked.

How times change! I find it amusing to stop for a moment and try to imagine how an eight-year-old grandchild would react if he or she got only the equivalent of my 1931 gifts on Christmas morning! But back then I was pleased. A few days earlier I had received as my only birthday present a 15¢ water pistol, and was delighted that it was the three-shot gun rather than the simple one-shot 10¢ model at the dime store. Oh, I also got two inexpensive dishes, but they really didn’t count; the family rule was that if you broke a dish in washing dishes, you got a replacement as your birthday present.

Incidentally, in those days everyone opened a present very carefully and saved the wrapping paper. It was stored in a big box and used over and over again. Even the name cards were saved to be re-used.

After the excitement of Christmas morning we hurried to do the milking and other morning chores and then got dressed up to go to Uncle Sile’s for Christmas dinner and the afternoon.

At Uncle Sile and Aunt Ella’s there was a “whole ‘nother world” for us. The scrumptious turkey dinner was served by a Negro maid. (The first colored person I had ever seen.) The turkey was huge and roasted to perfection. Everyone had a white linen napkin and a silver napkin ring with his/her name engraved in it! There was a little button under the edge of the table at Aunt Ella’s place that she pushed when we were finished eating and it was time for the maid to come clear the table! (It seemed like magic.) And to top it all off there was cake and ice cream and a jumbo Hershey chocolate bar for each of us kids. Talk about living “high on the hog”—this was IT!!!