And then, there were 10…


Days, that is.  Before the most glorious day of the year.  I anticipate the day while bemoaning the fact that it will be over too soon.

mo I believe it was Erma Bombeck who said “There’s nothing sadder in this world than to awake Christmas morning and not be a child.”  Maybe so, but you know what?  Hardly a Christmas Eve passes that I don’t peer up in the sky and listen for sleigh bells.

Christmas! The very word brings joy to our hearts. No matter how we may dread the rush, the long lines as we wait to pay for our gifts, the cooking and cleaning (if we’re lucky enough to have family coming), there is still the same warm feeling we had as children, the same warmth that enfolds our hearts and our homes.

Why can’t every day be like Christmas? I can hear Elvis belting out the tune. The answer: It can, if we will just let the happy feelings and good deeds carry us through the coming year.

“If everyday could be like Christmas, what a wonderful world it would be,” concluded Elvis.

Christmas is not a date on the calendar. It is a state of mind.


7 thoughts on “And then, there were 10…

  1. If I live to be 100, will still revert to a child, eyes filled with wonder and heart filled with anticipation, when Christmas time arrives.
    The year I was 5, all seven of the children of my grandparents, their spouses and children spent the holidays at “grandma’s house.” It was a rainy Christmas Eve, and I remember my father and his 2 brothers, dressed in coats, hats, gloves and boots, and carrying flashlights went to help Santa get his sleigh out of a ditch where he was supposedly stuck in the mud.
    Grandmother herded all her grands into the “living” room and told us to be very quiet or Santa would not stop at her house. She closed the door to her dining room where a big Christmas tree stood in it’s majesty with popcorn and cranberry garlands and glass ornaments we don’t even see anymore.
    Suddenly, there were sounds on the roof and grandmother told us Santa had arrived. Took him forever to unload all the gifts and place them under the tree. Finally, we were allowed to enter the room, hearts pounding, and there stood Santa waiting to hand each gift to it’s recipient. Don’t remember what he gave me, but I do remember my sister, who was 3 at the time, throwing her ragdoll on the floor and screaming that she did not like it. We were all so afraid she had made Santa mad and that he would take all our gifts and leave. Still think of her when I see a ragdoll.

  2. Great story Pat. I was about the same age when I woke up in the night and heard someone moving around in the living room. I peaked out my door and was certain I saw Santa Claus. It was probably the black board (one of those that stand up) but I was certain I’d seen Santa and I believed for another 10 years.

  3. Laying in bed with heavy blankets on top…looking out window to catch the first glimps of sunlight…waiting for the trian whistle from the “Doodle Bug” (that train from St. Louis to Mobile)..It went through Mulden about 4:30AM and we could hear the shistle blow 5 miles away…a cool, chrisp, fresh air…Hearing my father walk from his bedroom to our back door..turn around and walk back and strike the kitchen match that would lite the butane space heater we had to heat the living room…(the world was quite then–you could hear matches strike) walking from my back bedroom to the living room… thinking of what Santa had left for me…I remember having a BB Gun one Christmas,., a Roy Rogers gun and hoster another christmas…always a stoking filled with candy, fruit and a small toy…Those feeling of Christmas still are with me some 73 years later. I relive those feeling of loving and being loved each Christmas Season…No wonder I remain a Child..It’s so easy to live when one believes..believes in the wonderment of knowing and being surprised and happy. I love Christmas. but most of all, in my memory, I still hear my Dad at the Top of his VOICE : Santa has been here… Everyone out of BED. Those memories are the voices of my being that keep me alive with values and anticipation of things to come. The smells of Christmas never leave the inter world of my mind. I love Christmas.

  4. I can still hear the Rebel chugging through West Point. Sometimes Daddy would take me down there to watch it go by and wave at the caboose man. Do they still have cabooses, and if not,, why? My worst memory of Christmas was the year (I was about 11) that I got a Daisy BB gun (I know, I was trying to pretend I was a tomboy). I walked through the kitchen, and my mother said “Emily don’t walk through the house with that thing!” I replied, “Mother, it isn’t even loaded. See?” I pulled the trigger and a BB hit the kitchen cabinet, and rickocheted into my mother’s temple. The gun was taken away for the next six week, and by that time, I was back into girly things.

  5. Goodness Emily, good thing you all had a doctor in the house. Love reading memories others have of Christmas.

  6. We had tangerines, oranges, apples, brazil nuts, walnuts and hazel nuts in our stockings. Some candy but the tangerines were the treat. I talk to some parents today and I don’t think there is much fruit in stockings today. Where did the stocking stuffing traditions come from Emily? With your resources, I figure you can find the answer faster than I can.

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