Memories of Christmas

I know there are many of us in this world that are tradition-people. We are certainly one of them. I think it is safe to say that in our family, if you do something once this time of year, it most likely will turn into a tradition.

And I am not only just speaking about my family of four, but my extended family as well. I grew up in a very tradition oriented family. Not by my parent's doing all the time either. Most of it, I am pretty sure, was held to be honored and repeated by my brother and I.

I know we do not hold the book on creating these traditions, but we kept them alive throughout our growing up years. Branching off here and there once married and once having our own children. I will share three memories of Christmas Traditions that I have growing up.

*The solid green lights on our Christmas tree. My mom confessed after I was out of the house and married that the green lights were not her idea whatsoever on our tree. Shock!

Funny how kids tell stories of their growing up years once adults (so the fear factor of getting in trouble has passed), and parents divulge stories to their adult children about that child's growing up years (so the fear factor of tears and chaos has passed). 

Apparently one year my brother chose green lights for our Christmas tree. It stuck. We had to have green lights on our Christmas Tree for the next fifteen-plus years. Once we-two-kiddos were out of the house, my mom changed them back to her favorite multi-colored lights on the tree. The sacrifice that she made for us all those years!!!

It says more about her character and love than one would ever guess. She is the epitome of a Giver.

But when it came to my first married Christmas, it was a discussion. Imagine the surprise and look on my husband's face when I actually was trying to convince him that a solid green lit tree was the way to go. Although I was completely serious in my discussion, he did not agree. I eventually transferred to solid white lights before we made our tree purchase.

As far as my brother - he too converted to solid white upon marriage.

*It was my brother's second Christmas and my mom found herself across the state from her family; the first Christmas she would not be going home for the holidays. My dad had just been transferred to another state, and he was spending the entire December commuting back and forth, until it was time for my mom and brother to join him in the New Year. That year my dad was only to be home for literally 24 hours to celebrate Christmas. My mom was blah'd-out.

She happened upon an article in a Family Circle magazine at the checkout counter of the grocery store. Flipping through the pages she landed on an article of Chase the Winter Blues with an Indoor Picnic. It spoke to her. She tossed it to the checker to include in the bill.

That Christmas, with hours to spend together, my family (minus me, who would not venture into the picture until that Spring) had their Christmas dinner on a tablecloth spread out on the living room floor next to their roaring fireplace. With only the Christmas tree lit (at that time with multi-colored lights), and the warmth of the fire, they ate and celebrated Christmas as a family of three. Simple, yet it turned into a tradition that would continue to last forty+ years.

Yes, every Christmas Eve, those who gather with my parents will be hosted to a huge Scandinavian fest atop their tablecloth set on the floor in front of their fireplace. A tradition that I carry forward.

*Decorating the house with Christmas music blaring from the record player; my favorites being Julie Andrews and Burl Ives.

Now, for my family reading, don't spoil my memory with corrections of truth upon reading my memory. Truth or Fictitious, this is how I remember it.

Amongst the glow of lit candles we would decorate the upstairs of our two-story, split-level home. The boxes slightly damp from the garage storage would carry a light musty-odor. Not enough to cause alarm or turn away, but just enough to know that the decorations were coming forth.

Carefully unwrapping the ceramic Snowman painted by my mom was my favorite. It would always sit upon our piano and we would place tiny, tiny plastic angels around the base of the Snowman. And the three Wise Men would surround the bible that my mom had placed open to the picture of the Manger Scene on the coffee table.

As I got older, my room would be decked out with the foil streamers and dangling, spiral "things" in colors of red and green. Oh my goodness, my room would be covered in tons of "stuff" that I consider to be so common place for the late seventies and early eighties. I can't even find this "cheap stuff" anymore for my children. But it would make my room magical with Christmas colors as my night light would glow upon them, making sparkles everywhere as I fell asleep throughout December - listening to Delilah Rene on the radio.

My dad would make us Eggnog with nutmeg on top while my brother and I would tempera paint our bedroom windows with a Christmas theme. My dad and I might be the only two to enjoy this yummy drink, perhaps even to this day, but I continue to buy it and have a few Eggnog with nutmeg sips during the month.

In the end the house was glowing with Christmas. Not over-so, but just enough to create fantastic magical ambiance and celebration of the season.

So, I will take my tradition-oriented memories, keeping some just for my growing years, continuing others to new generations, and be grateful for the genuine love that I was blessed to be part of growing up.

I have only shared three simple memories, out of the triple-dozen stored in my head, but all of them make me smile every. Christmas. season!