When I was 7 years old, my Mom was a single parent who had just taken a job at General Motors. Even with her new college degree, we were still pretty poor. My Mom had told me not to expect too much.
I remember that I had devised a plan to determine whether or not Santa really existed. I put out a plate of cookies that were both vanilla and chocolate flavored. Since my mother was a chocolate freak, I was convinced she would only eat the chocolate cookies.
The next morning when I got up and stumbled into the living room I discovered what I can only describe as the world’s largest, pinkest Barbie Dream House. But it wasn’t only the house – it came fully furnished with everything from little plates and ice cube trays to throw pillows for the sofa. I mean it was huge and it had everything. And there were even two cars! For a 6 year old, this was freakin’ heaven. I was so completely astonished I was convinced Santa must really exist and had come through in big way.
And further evidence–the plate of cookies–only the vanilla ones were missing!
I think it was one of the most magical Christmasses ever, because it was still a time when practically anything seemed possible.
My Mom later told me she got the Dream House from a friend who worked for the company, and he’d been the one eating the cookies.
When I was maybe 24ish, Christmas fell on a weekday. I had to work the day before and the day after. That upset me, because for the first time in my life, I wouldn’t be spending the day with my family. Yes, I went to see them the weekend before, but that wasn’t the same.
Come to find out, a whole bunch of my friends were in the same boat. None of us had family living closer than a plane ride away, and we all had to work on the 26th.
So I got myself a little plastic tree and decorated it with some white lights. I got each of my friends a little present, cooked up an amazing dinner, and invited all of my friends over for the day. We ended up having a fantastic time. When my friend Ed met my parents six months later, his comment to them was “tdn saved Christmas!” I think he was really homesick.
I think I’ve told this story here before, but one of my favorite childhood memories of Christmas was the year Santa brought a whole bunch of Strawberry Shortcake dolls and the little white gazebo with the strawberry on top. They were all set up in the living room like they’d been playing there all night. It was like something you’d see in a commercial!
I think the best gift I’ve ever given was last year to my grandma. She celebrated her 90th birthday over Thanksgiving weekend, so I took it upon myself to get some great pictures at the party. My grandma’s sister who had traveled from Illinois for the party saw me taking pictures and asked, “Would you take a picture of me with my sister?” I gladly complied. For grandma’s gift, I made a photo book with all of the pictures I had taken and wrote captions about what a special day it was. I also had 5x7s made—one of grandma with my dad and my aunt, and the one of her with her sister—and framed both of them. Sadly, two weeks after grandma’s party, her sister passed away. It was so special that we had all gotten to see her one last time, and they looked so happy in the picture holding hands as though they were little girls. I don’t think there was a dry eye in the place when grandma opened her gift.
We lived in Germany during my prime Xmas years (6-10). Every year, the Canadian Forces Network (CFN) would pull some hapless squeaky-voiced private from the radar installation to report on an “unidentified object” on his system that appeared to be a tiny sled and several animals in front of it, pulling…! My sister and I would sit 'round the radio, excitedly listening to Pte. Schlub tell us how much closer Santa was getting.
At the same time, the DJs would manage to pull out their “magic mirror” and get in touch with Twinkle and Snowflake, two of Santa’s elves, who’d read the CFB Lahr kids’ letters to Santa on air. My mom was so good at timing the mailing of our letters that they’d always be read on Xmas Eve, unlike most of the other kids, who’d have them read in the days leading up to Christmas Eve.
Of course, it hit me several years later that my mother worked at CFN, was friends with the gentlemen who played Twinkle and Snowflake, and would just hand them the letters… But this peek into the machinations behind making a kid’s Christmas special actually makes the whole memory better, for some reason.
