It is almost here!!

This is a recopy of an email I sent my two daughters on December 23, 1999.

Dear Jen & Kris:
I am assuming you are both working today and will be off tomorrow. I just wanted to type a few lines because I know I will be talking to you over the weekend. It is odd, Christmas for me as a kid was a real exciting time. When I was about five or six my Dad ordered from Western Union a telegram from Santa addressed to me telling me he was on his way and would drop by our house later in the night. I can still remember that Christmas Eve night when the knock came to the door. It was dark out, our Christmas tree lights were on and the house was decorated. Dad opened the door and announced that I had a telegram. I went to the door and the man gave me a genuine Western Union telegram in the official envelope. Upon opening it the telegram was indeed genuine, the teletype tape had been cut and pasted as real telegrams were done. It was even in the official language. DEAR TOM STOP I AM LEAVING THE NORTH POLE NOW STOP I WILL BE STOPPING AT YOUR HOME LATER TONIGHT STOP MERRY CHRISTMAS AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR STOP

I cannot tell you the thrill that came over me. It sure put all those doubting playmates to shame. I'll bet they didn't even get a telegram from Santa. The excitement it created in me and the anticipation were almost more than I could bear. I took my telegram to bed, just to make sure the message didn't change.

In the morning our tradition was we could not go downstairs by ourselves. Of course Carol and I were the only kids there. We only had one bathroom, Dad had to go in, wash his face, potty, and otherwise consume eons of time while I tried to sit still with Mother in their bedroom. Then Mom's turn in the bathroom came. Dad sneaked downstairs and turned on the tree lights while I paced and plead with Mother to hurry up. Finally, with Mom leading the way down the stairs we came and whoopee, Santa had actually come. The evidence was overwhelming, the milk had been drunk and the cookies partially eaten.

I could not begin to describe the presents. I am sure they were plenty, and I am sure I had asked for things. In my mind's eye, today I remember the anticipation and excitement, and the feeling of being with family. During this time of year I often find myself thinking of some of those days. I don't remember too many Christmases, however I remember the excitement. There are those who say it isn't healthy for a child to get excited over avarice, but it was more.

On Christmas Eve, as I grew older, there was the evening church service when the altar looked so nice, we sang Christmas carols, and everyone seemed to take a little extra time and wish each other glad tidings. Mom, Dad and I would pile into the car, with me in the back seat. You could eventually feel the heat flow under the front seats, and warm your feet. We would ride around town looking at the lights people had decorated their homes with. I have no idea of the style of decoration, but the lights seemed brilliant and almost blinding.

Other times after church we would stop and the Gibson's or Bakkum's. We would admire their trees, I would drink pop while the grown ups got the hard stuff. We would visit and I would feel like things were all right with the world. So my real remembrances are of people, the decorations, the anticipation excitement, and the music. I remember that on Christmas day after the presents were opened an anticlimactic feeling as the day started to assume the mantel of just another day. However, that all changed in a few hours when friends came, coffee was made, Stolen was sliced and conversations took place. It is those types of memories I wish for you. I guess it simply revolves around security, love and joy. So may your Christmas Eve and Day be as exciting and fun as possible. I love you both very much.

Dad

Well Crap!

It is January 8. Here in Arkansas it is 6 degrees. It is Friday. I'm still in my bathrobe and pj's listening to Christmas music. Why? My speakers on my computer system some how got reduced from the five speakers to just two and the fidelity of the music was thin over the holidays. I just didn't enjoy the music. I found the problem, some how the wrong speaker configuration was selected and the rear speakers, sub woofer, and center speaker were turned off. So, I'm making up for the loss of full rich sounds I missed during Christmas. I've mothballed my big stereo system for a period and the computer's sound system filled in just fine, until the past holidays.

What does that have to do with adding a post to Rambling & Remembrances? I love Christmas music. The fact that it might be the TransSiberian Orchestra or Mannheim Steamroller is of no consequence. I've even got some old standards playing by Harry Connick. It is the feeling and memories that the music gives life to. I find myself getting a little emotional. I am wishing for days gone by knowing they will never be again, even if you recreated the events with the same people it will be different. This time of year I enjoy, fight and have to deal with a high level of nostalgia and sentimentality. That is part of my make up.

Now I find my self recalling the time when my first wife and I with two small children occupied a duplex on the north side of Racine, WI. We had bought some types of playthings that had to be put together. I do not exactly remember what they were, but I do recall that we had to put them together after the kids had gone to bed. I think at the time it was frustrating. With time however the edges of the picture soften and you wish you could do that again. There is no doubt that Christmas is for kids. I get tears in my eyes thinking about my little tykes rushing to the tree, eyes shining in excitement. The oohs and ahs made the experience so wonderful. Brewing coffee, eating coffee cake, playing with the gifts, watching the little ones shiver with excitement are still warm thoughts.

We always tried to have a big Christmas for our kids. There were times that I thought I would like to just go to a cabin in the north, hand make gifts, and try to connect with the spirit of the time instead of the materialism. It would not have worked, none of us really wanted that experience. Besides, I now live in a log cabin and there are just two of us on Christmas morning. It is fine, it is OK, there is no greater or lessor emphasis on the season. But I do miss the little ones, my little ones.

The fact of the matter is that I do not believe that our family practiced over consumption of material goods as the kids were growing up. There was a balance struck between need and practicality without going to excess. So I don't think Christmas spoiled the time. It enhanced the season. I talk with God just about everyday and God is not out of my thoughts for long. I have a strong sense of the presence of God. I say that because I think too often people end up critical or have a hard time dealing with the commercialization of the season. I don't. God is present in my life 365 days a year, I don't need a day in December to recommit or to be aware of God's majesty. So I don't have a problem with creating a day of excitement and pleasure for my children. They deserved it, after all they had to put up with me for all of the days of the year after that December 25th.

Christmas Tradition

When my children were very young my wife and I and two kids left Racine, WI and traveled to Shingleton, MI to have Christmas with Bonnie's parents. It was always a joyous time. The grandparents were properly doting. Tom and I usually got to do some fishing. Glady ran the general store they owned and was quite busy, however in the evening we played with the kids and then played cards.

However, after one or two years of that we decided to stay home in Racine. Like many young married people we wanted to establish our own family traditions. Traveling at Christmas time just didn't lay down any roots. We lived in a small, three bedroom "starter" home in Sturtevant, WI. We would decorate the tree. Bonnie and the kids would bake Christmas cookies together which always led to the usual sister competitions and a sprinkle of candy color on the table, the floors and other locations of the kitchen.

Christmas eve meant church and coming home about 8:30 PM. We would sit up, watch the tree lights, play carols, and play with the kids. Then off to bed for the youngsters. I usually had some kind of a put together toy that Santa left. I always used to wish that Santa had written better instructions. The gifts got together though. I never did enjoy the taste of milk and cookies after scotch on the rocks, but there had to be proof of Santa's visit.

Christmas eve was a good time at our house. The kid's eyes shown with excitement and that excitement carried over to the adults. Their enthusiasm for the season was heartwarming and made you love them all the more.

So this time of year brings back many memories. They are all good.

802 West Superior - Christmas

The first 8 years of my life were spent in a home my Dad rented from Judge Nebel. It was a two story home that sits at 802 West Superior St. in Munising, MI. It is still there, and while it has been remodeled, the front looks pretty much the same.

There are three Christmas memories I vividly recall involving that home.

First: My sister Carol is the closest to me in age, she is 14 years older. When I was around 4 she went to college. The tradition at our home was we cut a wild tree. My Dad traveled our county quite often visiting customers and in late summer and fall he would scout the woods along the back routes he took for a possible tree. Then after Thanksgiving we would go out and snowshoe around the woods, examining trees, snow getting down your back when you shook off a tree, and eventually make our selection. The trees were typically balsam, if we could find them, they seemed to hold their needles a little longer. Part of getting the tree was to also bring some boughs back for other trimming needs.

At the back of the living room were stairs leading to the second floor. The stairs had a railing, but were open. So my Dad always ran a string of lights down the stairwell around the balusters. Then he would fasten boughs so the stairwell had pine boughs and lights all the way to the top. My sister Carol would then make snow. The artificial snow was made with Ivory Soap Flakes, sugar and water. She would beat the soap and sugar in a mixer to actually make a white concoction similar to whipped cream, only it wasn't edible. I learned that lesson. Then using a spatula she would ladle the snow on the pine boughs and the railing would have some ribbon bows spaced to give the stairwell a very festive look. It was nice climbing the stairs to the bedrooms when the lights were lit and the view from the stairwell looking out on the living room was magnificent. I remember the stairwell vividly.

Second: When I was about 5 I received a telegram from Santa. It was delivered by the Western Union deliveryman late on the afternoon of the 24th. It said, "Dear Tom stop, Am leaving the North Pole now stop. I will be coming to your home later tonight stop. Be good and have a Merry Christmas stop. Santa" Wow, a personal message from Santa. I wasn't the only one who lived A Christmas Story.

Third: My parents would sometimes go out to a Christmas Eve party, or the Bakkums or Gibson's might drop in and visit. Usually there were some late nights, but not for me, I had to go to bed and wait till morning. God that was rough. I would wonder what Santa would bring. I was excited about the whole season. We always had snow, and lots of snow for Christmas so the lights of homes decorated for Christmas always brought good cheer and happiness. Many times after Christmas Eve church services we would take a ride through town to look at the homes. We would see people gathering for festivities, families coming together, lights and cheer made for an exciting atmosphere for a young boy to be part of.

I would have to be in bed at some hour, I do not know the time. I do know that my folks stayed up some time after I was in bed. So, when I woke up at 3 or 4 in the morning ready to get at it, I was made to lay in bed while they snoozed some. I do not know what time we got up, but it seemed endless. Then, when my mother and father would finally start moving and waking the ritual of the tree lighting and bathroom took place. My dad would go use the bathroom, splash some water on his face and then go downstairs and turn on the tree lights. My mother would then have to go into the bathroom and perform whatever ablutions she performed, totally unnecessary and taking far too much time. Me, a quick pee and I was good to go.

Then down the stairs we would traipse, Dad in the lead, Mom then me. I am sure my eyes lit up with glee and avarice as I viewed the lights, the gifts that Santa had brought, and the array of presents. I recall getting the proverbial gas station with the little elevator that would lift cars to the second floor. It wouldn't last a month, but for a while it was wonderful.

My Folks Made Christmas Happy

When I was young my parents got into the Christmas spirit. It was a happy time of year for them, mother enjoyed cooking and boy could she bake and cook great seasonal foods. Dad worked hard in his insurance and reals estate business and the holidays meant a time of good will, the end of the year, convivial visits with customers and good friends. With the tree decorated, shopping in full swing, music being played on the radio it was hard not to get caught up in the spirit of the time.

Where we lived we always had a white Christmas. It is funny, but the small babe in whose name we celebrate the season was born in a dry arid country yet we associate Christmas with snow. Anyway Mom and Dad joined into the festivities with a gusto. There were close family friends who dropped in to visit and share a cup of Christmas cheer. There were parties, gatherings, church bazaars and the annual Smörgåsbord at the First United Methodist Church.

I was out of school, I had friends to play with, sledding that had to be done on the snow covered city streets, skating on the ice rinks flooded by the city employees in neighborhoods throughout the community. We had to shovel walks, dig snow forts, have snowball fights, and in general spend enormous amounts of time out of doors coming home with ice encrusted cuffs on our blue jeans and most of the time soaking wet . It felt so good to sit in front of the tree wrapped in a robe with a cup of hot chocolate provided my Mom.

Our holiday season didn't end at Christmas, in fact, if anything between Christmas and New Years it picked up steam. There were always several parties held. My father was partial to Currier & Ives calendars which he dutifully delivered to clients between Christmas and New Years. An old tradition at several of the gas stations was to provide an open bar in one of the repair bays for the friends and long time customers to stop in have a bit of Christmas cheer as you went about your day.

Church, friends, snow, lights, and above all the good will expressed by the community made growing up in the little City of Munising, MI magic. Thanks for the memories.

Christmas Tree Needles

When I was a young boy living in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan my father and I cut down our Christmas tree out in the surrounding forest. My Dad had a small Real Estate and Insurance business and quite often travel about the county seeing clients or making business contacts trying to sell insurance. During these meanderings he kept his eye our for a likely Christmas tree prospect and would note the location. Sometimes he found one, other times we would simply hike back into areas on snowshoes and locate a tree under the snow.

Up until 1961, we always had to get two trees, one for our home and one for my Grandma Toot who lived in our hometown as well. I can still recall driving out into the countryside, usually we found our pickings along ridges and low lying areas surrounding swamps or bogs. My Dad taught me early on that we wanted a Balsam evergreen. It was short needled similar to a Spruce, but the needles were a little longer and we flat in shape rather than round. It was my Dad's opinion that a Balsam held its needles longer than a Spruce. You see, when my Dad mounted the tree on the tree stand there was no water, so the tree simply dried out over time and the challenge then was to find a tree close enough to Christmas so it didn't dry out and shed its needles leaving a skeleton of a tree for Santa.

We strapped on snowshoes, walked fields and woods, and inspect numerous trees until we found the "right one." As I became older my Dad would let me shake the snow from the tree, which usually meant some snow down my back. We had an old "Buck Saw" that we would use, or if the snow was too deep we might use and axe and trim the tree trunk later. Usually the tree had some bare spots that Dad would fill in by drilling a hole in the trunk, taking a branch and whittling it to a taper and then jam it into the hole to fill in the bare area.

Placing the tree was always a task. My Mother would direct Dad or myself to rotate the tree until the best side was facing the living room. Then it was Dad's job to place the lights. No one was allowed to help in that task. It is odd, but in later years when I had my own family that tradition became part of our household, I placed the lights on the tree. My wife would direct certain lights to insure we had the lights evenly spaced, but the task of attaching the lights to the tree was mine.

After the lights were on then came the ornaments, the tinsel and the other hanging decorations. This part of the tree trimming was left to the family. Our home/apartment took on a festive note. Christmas music became very meaningful, and often I would wake in the morning and come out in the living room to sit on the couch gazing at that beautiful tree with the lights on and ornaments sparkling. Of course I would be out of school so this was a special time for me. I would sit planning my day of skiing, sledding, walking in the snow, making a snow fort, or some other outdoor activity. In the meantime there was peace in the household and the strains of Christmas carols came from the local radio station.

Christmas is a special time of year. It always was and always will be, for me.