- Pot calling kettle - Monday, Dec 22, 08 @ 10:17 am:
I suppose there should be two lines, one for 2008 and one for previous years.
For me, each year brings something memorable and I have many favorites: the first with my sweetheart, the first my wife, the first with each of my children. The first time I made a snowman with my daughter has to be way up there as does each years “day of play” as the kids enjoy their new toys.
This year remains to be seen, but I suspect (and hope) that family will overshadow other happenings.
Apollo crew circle the moon and reading from the Bible. We had just left Grandma on Xmas eve heading to spend the night at my uncle’s house. Listening to it on the radio and looking at the moon during the car ride.
I think it was probably the “music” Christmas. My brother Denny got a drumset and I got an electric guitar. My parents may have regretted those gifts in the short-term (man, was it loud in that house), but they inspired us in the long-term.
Later that morning, we all went to my grandparents’ house a few miles away. Granddad and I were sent back to my parents’ house to pick up something or another and I played Denny’s drums, after being warned very sternly by my younger brother not to even so much as touch his new prized possession. Granddad said to be careful, but it wouldn’t hurt anything if I defied my brother just this once.
My wife had gone into labor a few days after Thankgiving (WAY early) and was hospitalized.
The hospital released her two years ago today and she spent Christmas at home with me (her family came over to enjoy the holiday).
She was back in the hospital a few days after Christmas (more complications — in just for two days that time) but eventually she gave birth, at full term, to our twins.
It was a challenging few months, but in the end it all worked out great. Having her home for Christmas, after what we had gone through, made it the best Christmas possible.
- North to Chicago - Monday, Dec 22, 08 @ 10:58 am:
When I was in 1st grade we lived in Brussels while my dad was on sabbatical for a year. We took the hovercraft across the channel to spend Christmas in London. A winter channel crossing has everyone sick, even the stewards, but when we arrived in London, there was even snow and it was magical.
I used to chop down my own Christmas trees in Colorado. I knew a guy clearing mountain land and would drive up a killer one lane road twisting through a icy canyon to reach it. I would take lots of edibles and various forms of liquid refreshments - hot and cold. I had a sharp axe, knives, saws and snowshoes. Since I snow camped regularly, I wore everything I knew I would need up there.
I knew his land and went off alone through the snow hunting for a perfect Christmas tree. The mountain air is always frigid, pure, and energizing. The altitude was thin and the climb invigorating. There is a spot near the top of a high ridge about 9000 feet, where the rising heat from the Front Range met the artic air to form clouds. I would snack there and watch the clouds form over my head and blow east, collect and race across the plains. The snow was deep up there, so I would breath deeply as I snowshoed, and icicles would form on my whiskers. I would sip brandy to stay warm.
No one else would be there. If I wasn’t back by nightfall, I knew my buddy would go out to look for me and knowing this I would escape for the entire day. Pica, which look like rabbits with round ears, would bark at me as I scrambled around their rocky homes. Since they do not hibernate, I would expect them every year during my Christmas tree hunt.
The streams up there were solid ice and frozen waterfalls. Where there were deep pools, you could hear water gurgling beneath the clear ice and watch air bubbles twist with the flowage.
By three o’clock, I would have found the tree. Nature forms living things out there, so finding a tree shaped appropriately would take time. After deciding on it, I would deliberately take in the views the tree would have seen, to better know it’s world. Then I would carefully take it down, slide it onto a durable emergency blanket I always carried, and returned to my car.
By six o’clock, a dark night would have fallen, and I would carefully edge my car back down from the Range, hungry, wet from persperation and melted ice, drowsy from the exhaustion and the car’s heater and returning to civilization with the perfect Christmas tree.
My Mom gave me my first album. I was twelve. I didn’t know the music or the artist but I was really excited because the guy on the album cover didn’t look like any of the Four Freshman, which was my folks’ music. I put the record on the Motorola console. The opening refrain was so soft I had to turn up the volume. An instrumental? Really? What was up then with the guy and the mullet on the album cover? A moment later, though, the music exploded. It was thrilling. So was the sudden realization that my Mom was cool. Every Picture Tells a Story, 1972.
Every year my old man would come home on Christmas Eve with a basket of oranges and a big cigar from his boss.
Before the festivities would start in earnest, we kids would dive in peeling the oranges while the old man lit the cigar. The mix of aromas in the old farmhouse from the oranges, cigar, Christmas tree, roast in the oven and cranky old furnace signaled that Christmas was finally here.
While my current winter holidays with my children and grandkids are good and as special as I can make them for the little ones, I can’t recreate for them the wonderful winter holidays of my childhood. I spent the holidays on my grandparents farm and it was such a magical place for me. There would be several days of my grandma and her four sisters cooking and baking. I always got to deliver the bags of goodies to her neighbors, sometimes on horseback. There was also the homemade suet balls I would ride back and hang in the timber. When I was done with the clove studded oranges and simmering scents inside with grandma my next favorite place to hang was the barn with grandpa and my horse. I doubt my children will ever experience a sleigh ride down a snow covered timber lane, but I would not of missed any of this all for anything. All so simple yet all such treasured memories.
Discovering the adult children who told us they could not be home for Christmas because of jobs, waiting for us at their grandma’s house when we arrived Christmas morning. Sometimes bosses unexpectedly decide to carry the weight themselves. Bless them.
One of my favorites was a “boom box” when I was in 6th grade. It was a Fisher, and it lasted until I went to college. The only thing that tempered my joy was that my parents included a cassette of classical music.
My all time favorite gift was a genuine Swiss Army pocket knife that my grandparents gave me when I was 10 and going away to camp in the upcoming summer. I lose things quite easily, but have managed to keep it for the past 26 years. I took it to summer camp for 12 summers after that, and it has suffered for it. Every scratch, nick, and ding tells a tale. I still bear a scar on one finger that I nearly cut off in a foolish move to close it.
Swiss Army warrents the knife for life, but doesn’t promise that you will get back your knife if you send it in for repair. I couldn’t bear to lose it, so I just keep it as is!
Of course my family gets top billing, but they aren’t a “gift” in the sense of the question.
My grandfather lived on a farm. He used to go down the lane to cut the Christmas Tree every year. Now Christmas Trees you buy are trimmed to look like Christmas Trees. Getting one from the woods on the farm…
We swore every year that Grandpa would get the scrawniest, most Charlie Brown Christmas like tree he could find. Every year would come my dad’s commets about being able to throw a cat through the tree and not hit any branches. Then would come us kids’ comments about the “Christmas Stick”
All of it is gone now. My grandfather, the farm house, the farm all of it. I wish I was back there now.
Christmas Eve at Grandma & Grandpa’s house (The house that Grandpa built). The huge live tree, covered in hot ceramic lights and tinsel icicles that wiggled and glistened when the furnace kicked on.
All the relatives from out of town were there. Friendly sweet, familiar faces, worn with time. Silver in their hair. The smell of ham baking. Home-made apple, pumpkin and pecan pies. Homemade cookies piled high, so many to choose from.
After dinner we would gather in the living room and wait patiently while talking amongst ourselves. Suddenly, we would hear some footsteps on the front porch. Us kids would try to get the adults attention. They blew us off. Next we would hear the magical sounds of jingle bells ringing on the same porch. The adults claimed not to hear it. Our tiny voices screaming out to be heard “ITS SANTA CLAUS! ITS SANTA CLAUS!” Then we would hear a male voice with the bells shouting “HO HO HO.” Grandma would run over (in her nice dress and shoes with all the matching jewelry) and peek out the door. She would proclaim “It must have been Santa, because there are presents all over the porch!” She would open the door and WOW! Presents were loaded into the house and placed around the tree. Grandma would apologize for not having a chimney for Santa to slide down, and explained “Maybe THATS why he left our gifts on the porch.”
Grandpa would show up soon afterward. I would climb up in his lap and cuddle up to him. His skin was cold and smelled of fresh air. I knew and I winked at my Grand-Dad. I loved them so much for going to such trouble to make Christmas magic for us.
Grandma and Grandpa are no longer with us physically. They live in my memory as vivid as when I was a child. Now I have four Grandchildren of my own. My husband is the cold Grand-Dad. I play the part of the surprized Grandma, suddenly figuring out it WAS Santa on the porch after all. The magic lives on.
When Apollo 8 approached the moon on Christmas eve 1968 and the crew read from the book of Genesis. I was only kid back then and it truly felt like a magical time to be alive.
I don’t know if I have one yet. I remember the year my older brother got a puppy (I was the last one to wake up, and I was shaken awake by the recipient, so happy to have a doggy after so many years of asking).
I also remember the year my oldest brother Stephen got a job out of town just before Christmas, and he wouldn’t be able to come. It would be the first year that all of us boys wouldn’t be there with our parents for Christmas. Well, it turns out they did allow Stephen to fly home, but we didn’t tell Mom or Dad. Mom and Dad took one car to Midnight Mass early. My other brother and I raced in two cars to the airport, leaving one in the parking lot for my brother to pick up and drive home in before then heading over to the church.
After Midnight Mass, we traveled home, and much to my parents’ joy and delight, their eldest son was home for Christmas.
This year might top them all, however. My wife is due with #3 tomorrow, and the baby’s not showing too many signs of coming yet. So, we just might be having a Christmas baby. As it is, it really is special watching my little ones grow and building new family traditions each year.
Rich, everyone, I hope you have a wonderful Christmas/Hannukah/winter holiday.
My most memorable Christmas was spent with our immediate family and my mother in DisneyWorld. We rented one of their cabins (it’s an insult to call it a cabin) in Fort Wilderness. At the campfire on Christmas Eve, the boys got to visit with Santa and were given candy canes by Chip & Dale. It was THE most festive place we have ever been for Christmas. We took our own small tree and decorations and had the boys’ gifts hidden in the car. Christmas morning we all woke up to a long-distance visit from Santa and on the outside of the door was a stocking full of goodies, compliments of the Disney people. The boys have yet to believe that we didn’t hang the stocking. But it was done to every camper, motor home and tent in the campground. DisneyWorld is such a magical place to be any time of the year but especially at Christmas.
Merry Christmas to everyone and remember, Jesus is the reason for the season.
Lots of them as a kid..and many to come with my kid. But a more memorable one was 2000, I went to Ireland at Christmas. Spent Christmas Eve in a B&B celebrating with an fun and eclectic group of folks, but had to travel on Christmas day to get back to Dublin. Not a whole lot open in Ireland on Christmas Day. Not even McDonalds! Our holiday dinner was a ‘burger in a bag’, Pringles and a Coke from a gas station. But it snowed, which it rarely does there so that made the burger a little better and made it feel more like Christmas. It was a great trip!
May you Rich, and everyone find love, joy, laughter and peace this holiday season!
- Pot calling kettle - Monday, Dec 22, 08 @ 10:17 am:
I suppose there should be two lines, one for 2008 and one for previous years.
For me, each year brings something memorable and I have many favorites: the first with my sweetheart, the first my wife, the first with each of my children. The first time I made a snowman with my daughter has to be way up there as does each years “day of play” as the kids enjoy their new toys.
This year remains to be seen, but I suspect (and hope) that family will overshadow other happenings.
- downstate reader - Monday, Dec 22, 08 @ 10:26 am:
Apollo crew circle the moon and reading from the Bible. We had just left Grandma on Xmas eve heading to spend the night at my uncle’s house. Listening to it on the radio and looking at the moon during the car ride.
- Rich Miller - Monday, Dec 22, 08 @ 10:32 am:
I think it was probably the “music” Christmas. My brother Denny got a drumset and I got an electric guitar. My parents may have regretted those gifts in the short-term (man, was it loud in that house), but they inspired us in the long-term.
Later that morning, we all went to my grandparents’ house a few miles away. Granddad and I were sent back to my parents’ house to pick up something or another and I played Denny’s drums, after being warned very sternly by my younger brother not to even so much as touch his new prized possession. Granddad said to be careful, but it wouldn’t hurt anything if I defied my brother just this once.
He was such a great man.
- OneMan - Monday, Dec 22, 08 @ 10:44 am:
Virtually any Christmas with my kids. I know that sounds hokey but it is what it is..
- Skeeter - Monday, Dec 22, 08 @ 10:50 am:
Two years ago.
My wife had gone into labor a few days after Thankgiving (WAY early) and was hospitalized.
The hospital released her two years ago today and she spent Christmas at home with me (her family came over to enjoy the holiday).
She was back in the hospital a few days after Christmas (more complications — in just for two days that time) but eventually she gave birth, at full term, to our twins.
It was a challenging few months, but in the end it all worked out great. Having her home for Christmas, after what we had gone through, made it the best Christmas possible.
- North to Chicago - Monday, Dec 22, 08 @ 10:58 am:
When I was in 1st grade we lived in Brussels while my dad was on sabbatical for a year. We took the hovercraft across the channel to spend Christmas in London. A winter channel crossing has everyone sick, even the stewards, but when we arrived in London, there was even snow and it was magical.
- VanillaMan - Monday, Dec 22, 08 @ 11:07 am:
I used to chop down my own Christmas trees in Colorado. I knew a guy clearing mountain land and would drive up a killer one lane road twisting through a icy canyon to reach it. I would take lots of edibles and various forms of liquid refreshments - hot and cold. I had a sharp axe, knives, saws and snowshoes. Since I snow camped regularly, I wore everything I knew I would need up there.
I knew his land and went off alone through the snow hunting for a perfect Christmas tree. The mountain air is always frigid, pure, and energizing. The altitude was thin and the climb invigorating. There is a spot near the top of a high ridge about 9000 feet, where the rising heat from the Front Range met the artic air to form clouds. I would snack there and watch the clouds form over my head and blow east, collect and race across the plains. The snow was deep up there, so I would breath deeply as I snowshoed, and icicles would form on my whiskers. I would sip brandy to stay warm.
No one else would be there. If I wasn’t back by nightfall, I knew my buddy would go out to look for me and knowing this I would escape for the entire day. Pica, which look like rabbits with round ears, would bark at me as I scrambled around their rocky homes. Since they do not hibernate, I would expect them every year during my Christmas tree hunt.
The streams up there were solid ice and frozen waterfalls. Where there were deep pools, you could hear water gurgling beneath the clear ice and watch air bubbles twist with the flowage.
By three o’clock, I would have found the tree. Nature forms living things out there, so finding a tree shaped appropriately would take time. After deciding on it, I would deliberately take in the views the tree would have seen, to better know it’s world. Then I would carefully take it down, slide it onto a durable emergency blanket I always carried, and returned to my car.
By six o’clock, a dark night would have fallen, and I would carefully edge my car back down from the Range, hungry, wet from persperation and melted ice, drowsy from the exhaustion and the car’s heater and returning to civilization with the perfect Christmas tree.
- Lefty - Monday, Dec 22, 08 @ 11:47 am:
As a boy, going to both grandmothers’ houses for Christmas dinners; one at 1:00 and the other at 6:00.
- Spanky - Monday, Dec 22, 08 @ 11:51 am:
Nice story VanillaMan, thanks.
- Suzanne - Monday, Dec 22, 08 @ 11:52 am:
My Mom gave me my first album. I was twelve. I didn’t know the music or the artist but I was really excited because the guy on the album cover didn’t look like any of the Four Freshman, which was my folks’ music. I put the record on the Motorola console. The opening refrain was so soft I had to turn up the volume. An instrumental? Really? What was up then with the guy and the mullet on the album cover? A moment later, though, the music exploded. It was thrilling. So was the sudden realization that my Mom was cool. Every Picture Tells a Story, 1972.
- stones - Monday, Dec 22, 08 @ 11:56 am:
Christmas Eve at my parents house, fire in the fireplace, xmas music on the stereo opening presents. Nothing better!
- wordslinger - Monday, Dec 22, 08 @ 12:07 pm:
Every year my old man would come home on Christmas Eve with a basket of oranges and a big cigar from his boss.
Before the festivities would start in earnest, we kids would dive in peeling the oranges while the old man lit the cigar. The mix of aromas in the old farmhouse from the oranges, cigar, Christmas tree, roast in the oven and cranky old furnace signaled that Christmas was finally here.
- Princess - Monday, Dec 22, 08 @ 12:14 pm:
While my current winter holidays with my children and grandkids are good and as special as I can make them for the little ones, I can’t recreate for them the wonderful winter holidays of my childhood. I spent the holidays on my grandparents farm and it was such a magical place for me. There would be several days of my grandma and her four sisters cooking and baking. I always got to deliver the bags of goodies to her neighbors, sometimes on horseback. There was also the homemade suet balls I would ride back and hang in the timber. When I was done with the clove studded oranges and simmering scents inside with grandma my next favorite place to hang was the barn with grandpa and my horse. I doubt my children will ever experience a sleigh ride down a snow covered timber lane, but I would not of missed any of this all for anything. All so simple yet all such treasured memories.
- Chanson - Monday, Dec 22, 08 @ 12:24 pm:
Discovering the adult children who told us they could not be home for Christmas because of jobs, waiting for us at their grandma’s house when we arrived Christmas morning. Sometimes bosses unexpectedly decide to carry the weight themselves. Bless them.
- How Ironic - Monday, Dec 22, 08 @ 12:26 pm:
So many great stories!
One of my favorites was a “boom box” when I was in 6th grade. It was a Fisher, and it lasted until I went to college. The only thing that tempered my joy was that my parents included a cassette of classical music.
My all time favorite gift was a genuine Swiss Army pocket knife that my grandparents gave me when I was 10 and going away to camp in the upcoming summer. I lose things quite easily, but have managed to keep it for the past 26 years. I took it to summer camp for 12 summers after that, and it has suffered for it. Every scratch, nick, and ding tells a tale. I still bear a scar on one finger that I nearly cut off in a foolish move to close it.
Swiss Army warrents the knife for life, but doesn’t promise that you will get back your knife if you send it in for repair. I couldn’t bear to lose it, so I just keep it as is!
Of course my family gets top billing, but they aren’t a “gift” in the sense of the question.
- train111 - Monday, Dec 22, 08 @ 12:40 pm:
My grandfather lived on a farm. He used to go down the lane to cut the Christmas Tree every year. Now Christmas Trees you buy are trimmed to look like Christmas Trees. Getting one from the woods on the farm…
We swore every year that Grandpa would get the scrawniest, most Charlie Brown Christmas like tree he could find. Every year would come my dad’s commets about being able to throw a cat through the tree and not hit any branches. Then would come us kids’ comments about the “Christmas Stick”
All of it is gone now. My grandfather, the farm house, the farm all of it. I wish I was back there now.
Happy Holidays all!!
train111
- Say WHAT? - Monday, Dec 22, 08 @ 12:56 pm:
Christmas Eve at Grandma & Grandpa’s house (The house that Grandpa built). The huge live tree, covered in hot ceramic lights and tinsel icicles that wiggled and glistened when the furnace kicked on.
All the relatives from out of town were there. Friendly sweet, familiar faces, worn with time. Silver in their hair. The smell of ham baking. Home-made apple, pumpkin and pecan pies. Homemade cookies piled high, so many to choose from.
After dinner we would gather in the living room and wait patiently while talking amongst ourselves. Suddenly, we would hear some footsteps on the front porch. Us kids would try to get the adults attention. They blew us off. Next we would hear the magical sounds of jingle bells ringing on the same porch. The adults claimed not to hear it. Our tiny voices screaming out to be heard “ITS SANTA CLAUS! ITS SANTA CLAUS!” Then we would hear a male voice with the bells shouting “HO HO HO.” Grandma would run over (in her nice dress and shoes with all the matching jewelry) and peek out the door. She would proclaim “It must have been Santa, because there are presents all over the porch!” She would open the door and WOW! Presents were loaded into the house and placed around the tree. Grandma would apologize for not having a chimney for Santa to slide down, and explained “Maybe THATS why he left our gifts on the porch.”
Grandpa would show up soon afterward. I would climb up in his lap and cuddle up to him. His skin was cold and smelled of fresh air. I knew and I winked at my Grand-Dad. I loved them so much for going to such trouble to make Christmas magic for us.
Grandma and Grandpa are no longer with us physically. They live in my memory as vivid as when I was a child. Now I have four Grandchildren of my own. My husband is the cold Grand-Dad. I play the part of the surprized Grandma, suddenly figuring out it WAS Santa on the porch after all. The magic lives on.
- I'mTellingYou - Monday, Dec 22, 08 @ 1:10 pm:
When Apollo 8 approached the moon on Christmas eve 1968 and the crew read from the book of Genesis. I was only kid back then and it truly felt like a magical time to be alive.
- South Side Mike - Monday, Dec 22, 08 @ 3:21 pm:
I don’t know if I have one yet. I remember the year my older brother got a puppy (I was the last one to wake up, and I was shaken awake by the recipient, so happy to have a doggy after so many years of asking).
I also remember the year my oldest brother Stephen got a job out of town just before Christmas, and he wouldn’t be able to come. It would be the first year that all of us boys wouldn’t be there with our parents for Christmas. Well, it turns out they did allow Stephen to fly home, but we didn’t tell Mom or Dad. Mom and Dad took one car to Midnight Mass early. My other brother and I raced in two cars to the airport, leaving one in the parking lot for my brother to pick up and drive home in before then heading over to the church.
After Midnight Mass, we traveled home, and much to my parents’ joy and delight, their eldest son was home for Christmas.
This year might top them all, however. My wife is due with #3 tomorrow, and the baby’s not showing too many signs of coming yet. So, we just might be having a Christmas baby. As it is, it really is special watching my little ones grow and building new family traditions each year.
Rich, everyone, I hope you have a wonderful Christmas/Hannukah/winter holiday.
- Little Egypt - Monday, Dec 22, 08 @ 3:33 pm:
My most memorable Christmas was spent with our immediate family and my mother in DisneyWorld. We rented one of their cabins (it’s an insult to call it a cabin) in Fort Wilderness. At the campfire on Christmas Eve, the boys got to visit with Santa and were given candy canes by Chip & Dale. It was THE most festive place we have ever been for Christmas. We took our own small tree and decorations and had the boys’ gifts hidden in the car. Christmas morning we all woke up to a long-distance visit from Santa and on the outside of the door was a stocking full of goodies, compliments of the Disney people. The boys have yet to believe that we didn’t hang the stocking. But it was done to every camper, motor home and tent in the campground. DisneyWorld is such a magical place to be any time of the year but especially at Christmas.
Merry Christmas to everyone and remember, Jesus is the reason for the season.
- Mad Brown - Monday, Dec 22, 08 @ 3:37 pm:
Lots of them as a kid..and many to come with my kid. But a more memorable one was 2000, I went to Ireland at Christmas. Spent Christmas Eve in a B&B celebrating with an fun and eclectic group of folks, but had to travel on Christmas day to get back to Dublin. Not a whole lot open in Ireland on Christmas Day. Not even McDonalds! Our holiday dinner was a ‘burger in a bag’, Pringles and a Coke from a gas station. But it snowed, which it rarely does there so that made the burger a little better and made it feel more like Christmas. It was a great trip!
May you Rich, and everyone find love, joy, laughter and peace this holiday season!
- Cranky Old Man - Tuesday, Dec 23, 08 @ 4:16 pm:
This year is going to be it. I’ll be spending it with my grandkids.
The impeachment hearings being underway ain’t a bad thing either.