My sister and I talk about how we never realized we were poor growing up. Maybe it was because there were a lot of other people who had less than we did and no one was really rich. Or maybe it was because our parents loved us and never let us forget it. Our house sounded like the "little house on the prairie" show. Every night we would say "Good night mom, I love you" or "good night dad, I love you" several times - maybe to make sure they were still there or maybe for reassurance that they really did love us.
Christmas was always a special time. Once one of the neighbor ladies who was of the proper shape and girth, dressed up as Santa Clause and peeked in the window at my sister. My sister, who exhibited sleuth like qualities at a young age, followed the footsteps to the neighbors house and figured it out. I was too little (or "still walking in front of my father" as my dad always said) to remember this one but I do remember when my uncle Booie dressed up like Santa and looked in the living room at us. I also remember how Santa Clause would come to the Community building, riding on the fire truck and we all got candy canes, peanuts and an orange in a brown paper bag. I am not sure who that Santa was. The community building is still there and a beautiful old building.
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| The community building from the side |
We didn't get our Christmas tree until around the 20th of December but we kept it up until after New Years. My brother used to go out in the woods with my dad and get a tree - back when you could just go out and chop one down. They usually weren't the best looking trees (more like Charlie Brown trees) but we always put it up anyway and my mom would try to cover the bare parts with ornaments or icicles. It was always good enough.
On Christmas eve, we always had new jammies and went to bed - or tried to, at 4 in the afternoon. My sister and I would lay on the bed and she would tell me that she saw Santa Clause in the sky. I always believed her. It was so cold in our upstairs bedroom and we often had frost on the inside windows so had to scrape them off to look outside.
We believed in Santa for longer than most kids because we knew our folks didn't have much money and how could they afford all those presents? They must have sacrificed a lot for us. In those days, a person could "run a tab" at various stores - they didn't have credit cards back then either - or at least my parents never had one. We never lacked for presents and I don't remember ever feeling disappointed because I didn't get something I wanted. Before Christmas we would spend hours looking through the "wish book" from Sears, Montgomery Ward or J.C. Penney.
When my dad was still a drinking man, many people stopped by for a Christmas drink around the holidays - usually on Christmas Eve. There were a few mishaps when someone fell on my sister's new sled and dented it or knocked over our fake fireplace. People stopped by the entire week between Christmas and New Years - my mom would fix something to eat or drink for anyone that showed up - it was a kind of impromptu open house at everyone's house in my little town and no one called first. I am sure our parents really appreciated us waking them up at 4 or 5 am on Christmas morning to open presents, after they had been up most of the night.
I thought of all these Christmases past because my sister has been posting old pictures of our Christmases on Facebook. I also was reminded of it when I heard a song by Paul Simon
Getting ready for Christmas Day. One of the lines in the song is "If I could tell my mom and dad, the things we never had didn't matter, we were always okay". Neither Barb nor I could think of anything we wanted back then, but didn't get or didn't have. Okay maybe for me it was a girly bedroom with a pink canopy bed, which now I can see would be impractical in a house where we burned wood.
We didn't want much and we really didn't have much, but we had what was important. The best gift our parents did give us was the appreciation for what we have and the realization that "some people have it a lot worse. I wish I could tell my mom and dad how much I appreciate that and all the great Christmases we had as kids.
Every Christmas I long for the magical feeling I had as a kid. And my sweet mom and dad - it's true, the things we never had, didn't matter. We were always and are still OK!
Here are some Christmas pictures
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| love the black and white photos. Christmas 1958 |
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| Christmas dresses - Barb was not too happy in hers |
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| Christmas 1963 - look at those curls |
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| My little town today. That's my brother walking down the street. I feel like I could climb right in this picture |
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