There were eight of us living in a lathe and plaster house where the snow blew in sometimes because there were chinks in the plaster, but Christmas was always Christmas. It was the one holiday a year that really mattered in that 2 bedroom house at 709 Strong Street in Nickerson, Kansas. There were 3 things that would happen that day without fail. Santa Clause would have stopped by in the middle of the night, Dad would stay sober and there would be a meal on the table. The wheels of progress had started probably the Christmas before when Mother started counting her pennies and making the list of what each one of us would receive. She always had a stub of a pencil and a list in her pocket. I never really got a good look at that list, but I am sure my name had appeared there some where. All year she worked towards that one goal. Mother's do that, or at least mine did.
School got out for vacation about a week before Christmas. Every classroom had a Christmas tree. and every tree had tinsel. The last day before vacation started was the day to "take down the tree." The tree then went home with who ever did not have a tree up yet. We counted on getting one. There were 6 of us little urchins and the teachers would decide. We always got one! I remember the year I was the lucky recipient. Can you imagine my pride at dragging that tree home the whole mile to our house. I was so damn proud I thought I would pop! And the teacher had left all the tinsel on it. Of course by the time I got it home the tinsel had thinned quite a bit on the side that was dragging in the dirt. I thought I would pop my buttons when momma propped that tree up and Christmas was on the countdown!
We did not have stockings, but rather we wrote our name on a piece of paper and placed it where we wanted Santa to put our gifts. Funny, I don't really remember ever giving my mother a gift in all those growing up years. I made her cards, but never a physical gift. And then there was the time I babysat and earned some money and went to Doc Wards store and got her a stainless steel mixing bowl. I did that because I had broken her glass one and felt really bad about that. Well, when I grew up and moved away I would send her stuff, but that really doesn't count.
As the years went by and mother picked up more house cleaning jobs the piles grew bigger at Christmas. The first one I remember was a coloring book, colors, a red rubber ball, and an orange. The last Christmas I remember Santa Clause was when my brother woke me up in the middle of the night to tell me he had helped mom and dad put out the gifts and there was no Santa Clause. That year I got one of those tin doll houses that clipped together. You know, the miniature ones with mother, father, sister and brother and all the tiny furniture and you could buy more! And always there was new underwear and socks! Wise mother to make the piles bigger with stuff we had to have anyway!
And then it was my turn to be Santa. In all fairness, I do not remember much about those years. The kids dad and I divorced when the kids were small and he was good at bringing presents, but not much for the child support. His reasoning was that I had the kids and all the pleasure they brought so why should he have to pay me? He was the one with not kids to keep him company and in my warped mind I saw the reasoning that made him tick!
I was always a procrastinator and sometimes Christmas got there before I realized that as Santa I had work to do! One year my friend Gibby was kind enough to help with the last minute shopping the day before Christmas Eve mind you! We rushed from store to store and finally had the trunk full. The next evening I put the kids to bed and Gib came and we began to assemble the gifts, one of which was a tin miniature doll house for Debbie. Luckily (?) he had brought a bottle of wine and luckier still that I had lots of band aids because those damn little tabs were very sharp and the wine was very strong! Well, and there may have been a second bottle! I woke up on the floor and no sign of Gib.
(An aside here, I must tell you about Gib. He was a friend of my mothers and they worked at the Red Rooster together. Gib was gay and one of the first to die in the AIDS epidemic, when it was an epidemic. He died in California and we never knew where he was buried. I do know when I conceived the Pueblo AIDS Memorial Quilt he was foremost in my mind and the first panel made was for my sweet Gibbie.)
Many years have passed and many Christmas's have come and gone to bring me to this Christmas. I do not have a tree. I gave all my lights and decorations to my son. I do not buy gifts. I do not fight the crowds. I will spend Christmas Eve in church and Christmas Day I will attend church and come home. I am not bah humbug at Christmas, I just prefer to live with my memories. The best part of memories is that they can be altered to fit the occasion and this year I shall have beautiful memories of wonderful children and bountiful love and I wish you all the same!
School got out for vacation about a week before Christmas. Every classroom had a Christmas tree. and every tree had tinsel. The last day before vacation started was the day to "take down the tree." The tree then went home with who ever did not have a tree up yet. We counted on getting one. There were 6 of us little urchins and the teachers would decide. We always got one! I remember the year I was the lucky recipient. Can you imagine my pride at dragging that tree home the whole mile to our house. I was so damn proud I thought I would pop! And the teacher had left all the tinsel on it. Of course by the time I got it home the tinsel had thinned quite a bit on the side that was dragging in the dirt. I thought I would pop my buttons when momma propped that tree up and Christmas was on the countdown!
We did not have stockings, but rather we wrote our name on a piece of paper and placed it where we wanted Santa to put our gifts. Funny, I don't really remember ever giving my mother a gift in all those growing up years. I made her cards, but never a physical gift. And then there was the time I babysat and earned some money and went to Doc Wards store and got her a stainless steel mixing bowl. I did that because I had broken her glass one and felt really bad about that. Well, when I grew up and moved away I would send her stuff, but that really doesn't count.
As the years went by and mother picked up more house cleaning jobs the piles grew bigger at Christmas. The first one I remember was a coloring book, colors, a red rubber ball, and an orange. The last Christmas I remember Santa Clause was when my brother woke me up in the middle of the night to tell me he had helped mom and dad put out the gifts and there was no Santa Clause. That year I got one of those tin doll houses that clipped together. You know, the miniature ones with mother, father, sister and brother and all the tiny furniture and you could buy more! And always there was new underwear and socks! Wise mother to make the piles bigger with stuff we had to have anyway!
And then it was my turn to be Santa. In all fairness, I do not remember much about those years. The kids dad and I divorced when the kids were small and he was good at bringing presents, but not much for the child support. His reasoning was that I had the kids and all the pleasure they brought so why should he have to pay me? He was the one with not kids to keep him company and in my warped mind I saw the reasoning that made him tick!
I was always a procrastinator and sometimes Christmas got there before I realized that as Santa I had work to do! One year my friend Gibby was kind enough to help with the last minute shopping the day before Christmas Eve mind you! We rushed from store to store and finally had the trunk full. The next evening I put the kids to bed and Gib came and we began to assemble the gifts, one of which was a tin miniature doll house for Debbie. Luckily (?) he had brought a bottle of wine and luckier still that I had lots of band aids because those damn little tabs were very sharp and the wine was very strong! Well, and there may have been a second bottle! I woke up on the floor and no sign of Gib.
(An aside here, I must tell you about Gib. He was a friend of my mothers and they worked at the Red Rooster together. Gib was gay and one of the first to die in the AIDS epidemic, when it was an epidemic. He died in California and we never knew where he was buried. I do know when I conceived the Pueblo AIDS Memorial Quilt he was foremost in my mind and the first panel made was for my sweet Gibbie.)
Many years have passed and many Christmas's have come and gone to bring me to this Christmas. I do not have a tree. I gave all my lights and decorations to my son. I do not buy gifts. I do not fight the crowds. I will spend Christmas Eve in church and Christmas Day I will attend church and come home. I am not bah humbug at Christmas, I just prefer to live with my memories. The best part of memories is that they can be altered to fit the occasion and this year I shall have beautiful memories of wonderful children and bountiful love and I wish you all the same!
