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Posted by Pam Steadman

Christmas memories...precious indeed!

Lights, Kids, Memories!

As I get older, my memories of Christmas get younger.   With children now grown, I have a bit more time to ponder about past Christmases in my life.   To simplify it all, I’ll add to some “memory topics” of the holidays…

School Celebrations…While growing up as a child in wintry Pittsburgh, every year we had to cut out snowflakes and tape them onto the school windows.   I could never figure out how to cut properly and instead of one large impressive flake, I came up with four or more…??   My cleverness was not acknowledged however, and my third grade art teacher gave me (and the skinny boy who picked his nose) “time out” after school, so she could show us just how to cut out A snowflake once and for all!   When her back was turned, we sampled peppermint flavored paste out of the great class jar.

I got to be a ‘bell’ in a play one year.   Little Jimmy Little was the “Ding” to my “Dong.”   We got to shake our hips too.

Visits to Santa…How was I supposed to truly believe in Santa Claus when I was always sitting on a “different” Santa’s lap each year?   One year Santa would have blue eyes.  The next year, he had bushy black eyebrows covering hazel eyes.   Say what was with the beard?   Santa actually had a yellow-tinged beard with peppermint candy bits stuck to it at a department store in our Monroeville shopping center.   Yuck.    

In the third grade at Kaufman’s Dept. Store, I sat on the bony lap of a poor St. Nick who looked emaciated and just plain beat.   I compensated my thinking back then, coming to the conclusion that perhaps Mrs. Claus was really angry with him.

When I was nine, my Uncle Carl came to our house dressed as Santa Claus.   Being the oldest child, I giggled and pulled down his fake beard, “I know it’s YOU, Uncle Carl!  You can’t fool me.”   So much for “the joy” coming from my sisters; but they got ‘the surprise,’ didn’t they?   Dad was furious and Mom rolled her eyes…yet I stood my ground! 

Years later, with my own boys, it was long lines before we got to see the old jolly creature.   Not only that, but ‘girly elves’ would snap pictures and we Moms had to purchase...filling our scrapbooks with more memories...  

Son #1 would ask Santa for more than a few presents.   #2 Son would wiggle and wail and demand his promised hot dog!   By the time Son #3 came about, we were living in England and Santa was known across the pond as “Father Christmas.”

Father Christmas lived in a “grotto,” which was a cardboard-like shack set up in malls and department stores.   Plastic streamers hung from the front of the shack, and when one entered with babe in arms, the inside was dark, eerie, and downright scary.   #3 Son stiffened and screamed shrilly in the tiny grotto in Guildford, Surrey, that afternoon.   My 5’ 11” frame uplifted the cardboard grotto in panic; and the mysterious stranger sitting in the corner with his long beard and tasseled robe, jumped up to catch my son and we all fell over!   It was only a cardboard wall that saved us from heaving over the second level that pitiful day.

At Hamley’s Toy Store in Piccadilly Circus, our oldest son (he was ten at the time) pushed a large red button that warned “Do Not Push This Button!”   Immediately, a very large submarine exploded into hundreds of small wooden pieces.  

Food…Mom made delicious gingerbread boys.   I got to ice them and delighted in biting off their heads.  Hubby says that verbally, I still do.  (:

Mom also used to stick toothpicks (dotted with olives and pickles) into grapefruits.   That was my favorite horsdeveores.   To this very day it is the only one I know well enough to attempt creating myself.   Pathetic?  Yes.

My maternal grandmother made the very best chocolate chip cookies and meringues.   However, it was her fudge that I remember the best.   Funny, so does my younger sister.   You see, with three years between us, my sister and I fought a lot.   We both would take the chocolate chip cookies and pick out and count how many chocolate chips we each had.   If one had more, the other would go grab another cookie and start the count again...  

My sibling infuriated me in those days, so one afternoon when she wasn’t around, I took some fudge and molded it around three beef bouillon cubes.  Later, she crammed all three pieces into her mouth after I informed her that I already had eaten my three pieces of great fudge.   You don't want to know...

Christmas Trees…Way back when, our live tree was always brought into the house and trimmed on Christmas Eve.   Dad would always get upset with my throwing fistfuls of ice cycles onto the tree for years!   He would carefully separate each strand and show me the ropes…year on end.   I never thought I’d miss his lecturing me, but I do…especially now that he’s gone.

When I had my own family, we would alternate between live and fake trees.   I was not smart enough to realize that one should always plug in the lights BEFORE stringing them onto the tree.   It took me close to thirty years to realize this.   My frustration always was with the lights…big and tangled bulbs, color or white lights, URL or cheap brand…’drove me nuts!

One night in the mid ‘70’s, it had taken me over two hours to get the tree in order.   Hubby was working in NYC and was going to be late.  I decided to order pizza so I could pick it up for my two small sons and myself.   I locked the car doors with my sons in waiting (a no-no nowadays!) and quickly paid for the pie.   Coming out, there was a pickup truck blocking my backing out.   I waited a few minutes and nobody appeared…the pizza was getting cold.  So, I hurried into three stores along the shopping strip and asked nicely if the person in the blue pickup could just move his/her truck out of my way.   Nobody took notice.   Then, I got into my car and honked my horn loudly.  Time was a wasting!  Still, nobody showed.   Twelve-in-a-row honks later, a guy came out and stood defiantly behind my car refusing to budge.   I quietly exited my car with a small pad and pen in hand, taking his license plate.   Before I knew it, he gave me a kind holiday “greeting” and got into his car and screeched outta there…just like a “Wanted Person” might do.   He was.   (When my fury died down after demanding that a policeman  “FIND THAT MAN!,” I was informed two days later that the guy was wanted on several drug charges and that they nailed him thanks to me.   All this because I wanted a hot pizza after trimming a difficult tree!

In the ‘80’s, I went through a real “perfection” stage while decorating trees.   I insisted that all large ornaments go from middle to bottom, and that the smaller ones head towards the top.   Once the tree was finished, I would marvel at how nice it looked…until one particular evening, when I noticed that the ornaments were NOT where I had originally placed them.   They had somehow been switched around, throwing off my balance of ying and yang…whatever!    It seems that #3 Son, by then a teen, just delighted in tormenting my decorative spirit.   We still laugh about it years later… and he STILL rearranges the decorations, much to my chagrin. 

Our granddaughter was a mouse in a performance of “The Nutcracker” the other day.   She danced just perfectly and we were so very proud of her.   Our younger granddaughter looked like a precious “Sugar Plum” as she handed her big sister a bouquet of pink roses afterwards…and the traditions and memories continue…

‘Wishing you and family a blessed memory-filled Christmas, a beautiful holiday no matter your persuasion, and a healthy and more prosperous New Year.

Until next time,

Pam 

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