Earlier this month Teddy asked us all to write a blog on Christmas memories and the month has been passing so quickly. Looking at my last entry it has been days. I want to blame it on the holiday and all it's trappings, and then I look around and realize the tree is still not up, presents still need to be bought and wrapped, and the cookies....all the cookies and candies yet to make. Procrastination during the holiday season is not a good thing.
I tried to think of what I would blog on for my Christmas memories blog for Teddy. I could write about the country school programs at Christmas time, the lines upon lines we had to learn for our parts. The tiny basement auditorium crammed with everyone's parents and relatives. The walking across that old wooden stage with a roll up curtain, made of some kind of cloth that had advertisements painted on it. How I would sit there and read them, between the curtain rise and fall..
I could blog on Christmas caroling, visiting the elderly and singing in the frosty air. Shaking those flashlights when the batteries were giving up before the last verse was sung. Of the old German man who lived next door to me, who always sang along with us and handed us out candy as we sang Silent Night to him.
I thought about blogging on the big sledding parties we had as children. In the small town I grew up, sawhorses would block off one of the main streets that was on a hill. Adult and child showed up alike to slide down the hill on their sleds with red runners. Flashing caution lights put up after dark to continue the sledding, and later big mugs of steaming hot cocoa to warm our little bodies up.
I realized that a lot of you may have similiar memories on caroling, reciting lines for Christmas plays, and sliding down your own big hill. What to write about?...
I thought about Teddy's blog on his train set and new six shooters. I can still envision him galloping about, shooting at imaginary bad guys, and his little sister. I thought about Cyn's blog on her new bicycle, such a touching blog and one of the best Christmas stories I have read so far this year. I tried thinking on just what could I recall from Christmases past, that stood out from others. What toy or object had I begged Santa for, and I came to the realization, that I never really had one toy that I yearned for under the Christmas tree.
I don't ever remember asking Santa for anything specific. But somehow "Santa" always knew what would tickle the fancy of this blogger. One year there was a camera, one year a boom box, the toy selections were always unexpected....a surprise. I don't remember being disappointed as a kid. Toys were only ever bought for birthdays and Christmas. Those toys were played with hard, and with all the enthusiasm possible. Some years, were not as abundant as others, but the surprise factor was always there.
Hmmm, so much for blogging on a favorite cherished asked for toy....
There was one Christmas though.... we were older, I was almost 10, my older brother 12, and my youngest brother 9. Our delusions about Santa were long gone. Very early in the morning of that Christmas day, I was awake, and lieing in bed. It was still dark outside and the house was so quiet. I heard a door open from my parents bedroom. I heard the rustle of .a brown paper sack....and then....a "thud"....
Mom....um, er...I mean "Santa" had dropped something in the hallway. There was a pause, evidently to pick up the dropped item, another few steps...and another...."thud...thud". The rustling of that paperbag, and yet another..."thud". Either the bag had a rip in it, or "Santa" was still half asleep and unable to see in the dark.
I knew where "Santa" was going....she was going to fill our stockings. We always opened presents on Christmas eve, and had our stockings to open on Christmas morning. Our stockings always held a large juicy orange, shelled peanuts in the toe of the stocking, small gifts, sometimes money, and always candy....peppermint candy canes.
There was another thud, Santa wasn't being so quiet now. There was mumblings. More steps, more things dropped and then......a very loud exasperated whisper...."Oh Cornfeathers!".....
I heard the laughter in my dad's voice as he ask quietly down the hall from the bedroom...."drop someting Santa?".... my brothers were awake now, giggling and snickering. I tried to stifle my own. I could hear my mom start to giggle as she finally made it down that darkened hallway to fill our stockings. She no longer made any effort to be quiet.
We waited a few more mintues before stirring, mom had gone back to bed, still giggling.
We sat around that Christmas morning with our stockings. There was the big orange, the nuts, the small gifts,... and the terribly crushed peppermint candycanes.
I know of the story behind the candycane, about the shape of it being a shepherd's hook, the meaning of the red and white coloring...
But when someone mentions candycanes, .......crushed ones from Santa, always come to my mind.
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