Submitted by WhitesCreek on Sun, 2007/12/23 - 9:28pm.
Christmas Day has it's own traditions in my mind but it is the EVE that holds the best memories for me.
Dad was killed in a car wreck when I was eleven and Mom remarried a few years later to a man who would have made a fine character in a Dickens story. She finally left him two children later, with a small alimony which he never paid on time so that she was always short on money. Mom went to work at the state offices of Georgia and wound up in Ben Fortson's office and eventually rose to Deputy Director, Secretary of State for Max Cleland, but this was before that.
I had graduated and was working in my first job after college. She called and said she had bought Santa for the kids and needed help putting it together, which meant that my brother and I would assemble whatever it was. I bought a fifth of Jack Black and headed over.
Brother and I spent most of the night and part of the wee hours assembling a sheet metal kitchen for baby half Sister and some pedal toy for baby half brother. They were five and six years old. Had I purchased a larger bottle, it would never have happened.
We had argued, threatened and laughed our way through the night until Santa had Tab A in Slot B and all was functional. It was to be my first Christmas on the "Other side" of Santa.
Bleary eyed, with less than two hours sleep, the babies ran into Mom's living room screaming with joy at the presents that Santa had left just for them. Now...with children of their own, and Mom several years passed away, I plan to tell them about that eve.
Submitted by Bbeanster on Sun, 2007/12/23 - 10:28pm.
I was a teenager -- I forget just exactly how old I was, but my granddaddy -- my favorite person in the entire world-- had been in the VA hospital in Johnson City for months and months on end, and I was very afraid he wasn't going to make it. But late fall, he took a turn for the better (he had a severe case of pernicious anemia and a bad heart), and it started looking like he might pull through. Christmas had always been a really big deal to my grandparents, who had a shopping list a mile long (my grandmother always joined a "Christmas Club." remember those? I think she put $10 or $15 a week into it), and they also collected toys and clothes for some kids up in the mountains somewhere. They were sort of a one-couple "Mission of Hope" deal, and their Rambler station wagon was always loaded with stuff for the kids that they found in thrift stores and at rummage sales. Granddaddy was a very fine singer, and he was affiliated with a mission up in Scott County. He'd dress up as (a really skinny) Santa Claus and deliver his stuff a week or so before Christmas.
Anyhow, as I said, Christmas was a big, big deal, and it came to pass that Grandaddy was released from the hospital on Christmas Eve. I can still see him walking in the front door, snowflakes dissolving on his tweed topcoat, and I can still hear him laughing and saying "Merry Christmas!" I cannot express the pure joy of that moment.
I have many fond memories of the build up to Christmas. Mostly just being with family and friends. During our 17 years in Florida, the hubby and I came to Tennessee every year for Christmas except two. The second time was kind of fun for me to make it better for him. The hubby was working 12 hours a day 7 days a week and had to be at an install in California up until Christmas Eve (or Christmas Adam, not sure which). That year was the only year we had a tree in Florida. While the hubby was out working so hard I went and bought a real tree and decorations. I set it up and had it all ready for him upon his return.
Submitted by newscoma on Mon, 2007/12/24 - 7:54am.
Actually, I was in Montreal Quebec. It was Christmas Eve and I was a long way from home (Dresden, Tn, thank you very much) We had a huge cactus filled with red balls on strings as not to damage the Cactus. I was on the 21st floor of a high-rise and it began to snow. I could see on the street all of the people walking up and down in the white crispness and the air was so cold.
I remember believing in that very moment in things I couldn't verbalize or see.
It was a wonderful moment filled with possibility for a girl who had spent her life in rural America.
And it gave me faith for a little while.
As I looked out the window, I saw a horse-led sleigh about midnight.
It was enchanting.
Submitted by Pam Strickland on Mon, 2007/12/24 - 1:26pm.
I've been thinking about this over the morning as I ran some last minute errands. I don't know that any stands out as absolutely the best or worst. My family, both sides, always celebrated on c'mas eve. Santa managed to come to my g'mother's while we were out on some last minute errand or church or something.
My parents died when I was an infant, and when I was younger, my g'mother wouldn't let me go to my mother's family's on C'mas Eve because...well, who knows why. Anyway, I remember going to the Arkansas Delta when I was very small, maybe three, in a big ole Ford truck my g'father had just bought for his business. But the heater went out, and it was very cold. It was a 14 hour trip in those days, and we were having to stop every few miles so that the ice could be broken and scraped off.
Another time I remember getting one of those portable record players. They were cardboard and looked like a little suitcase. I don't remember what music I was playing but it got way loud too soon for my g'father, who liked to be the only loud one in the house....
When I got older and started splitting the evening between the two families, I remember that it was so much fun. My g'mother, my father's mother who raised me ran a quiet household -- except when her crazy husband was drunk -- and my mother's family is loud. Lots of music and conversation and silliness. They are who I spend C'mas Eve with these days. My other grandparents have been gone for years, and my brother has moved to Clarksville. His daughter and her family and I will go there next weekend to celebrate.
Pam Strickland
"We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful about what we pretend to be." ~Kurt Vonnegut
Submitted by scottfrith on Mon, 2007/12/24 - 1:28pm.
My sister and I were with our mother at the Radio Shack in LaFollette, TN. It was just before closing-time on Christmas Eve. (The Radio Shack was our family business at the time and my Mom managed the store and its employees.) I was 11 years old and my sister was 9 years and right before closing my father appeared with a tiny, newly weaned, boxer puppy in his coat pocket.
"Rudy," named after the beloved Cosby Show character, would be a part of our family for nearly fifteen years, until her peaceful passing in her sleep three years ago.
I'll always remember my father showing up with that adorable little dog and it will forever be my favorite childhood Christmas memory. I love this time of year.
Christmas Day has it's own traditions in my mind but it is the EVE that holds the best memories for me.
Dad was killed in a car wreck when I was eleven and Mom remarried a few years later to a man who would have made a fine character in a Dickens story. She finally left him two children later, with a small alimony which he never paid on time so that she was always short on money. Mom went to work at the state offices of Georgia and wound up in Ben Fortson's office and eventually rose to Deputy Director, Secretary of State for Max Cleland, but this was before that.
I had graduated and was working in my first job after college. She called and said she had bought Santa for the kids and needed help putting it together, which meant that my brother and I would assemble whatever it was. I bought a fifth of Jack Black and headed over.
Brother and I spent most of the night and part of the wee hours assembling a sheet metal kitchen for baby half Sister and some pedal toy for baby half brother. They were five and six years old. Had I purchased a larger bottle, it would never have happened.
We had argued, threatened and laughed our way through the night until Santa had Tab A in Slot B and all was functional. It was to be my first Christmas on the "Other side" of Santa.
Bleary eyed, with less than two hours sleep, the babies ran into Mom's living room screaming with joy at the presents that Santa had left just for them. Now...with children of their own, and Mom several years passed away, I plan to tell them about that eve.
It's time they knew.
I was a teenager -- I forget just exactly how old I was, but my granddaddy -- my favorite person in the entire world-- had been in the VA hospital in Johnson City for months and months on end, and I was very afraid he wasn't going to make it. But late fall, he took a turn for the better (he had a severe case of pernicious anemia and a bad heart), and it started looking like he might pull through. Christmas had always been a really big deal to my grandparents, who had a shopping list a mile long (my grandmother always joined a "Christmas Club." remember those? I think she put $10 or $15 a week into it), and they also collected toys and clothes for some kids up in the mountains somewhere. They were sort of a one-couple "Mission of Hope" deal, and their Rambler station wagon was always loaded with stuff for the kids that they found in thrift stores and at rummage sales. Granddaddy was a very fine singer, and he was affiliated with a mission up in Scott County. He'd dress up as (a really skinny) Santa Claus and deliver his stuff a week or so before Christmas.
Anyhow, as I said, Christmas was a big, big deal, and it came to pass that Grandaddy was released from the hospital on Christmas Eve. I can still see him walking in the front door, snowflakes dissolving on his tweed topcoat, and I can still hear him laughing and saying "Merry Christmas!" I cannot express the pure joy of that moment.
great story, and yes they should know. pgs
Pam Strickland
"We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful about what we pretend to be." ~Kurt Vonnegut
I have many fond memories of the build up to Christmas. Mostly just being with family and friends. During our 17 years in Florida, the hubby and I came to Tennessee every year for Christmas except two. The second time was kind of fun for me to make it better for him. The hubby was working 12 hours a day 7 days a week and had to be at an install in California up until Christmas Eve (or Christmas Adam, not sure which). That year was the only year we had a tree in Florida. While the hubby was out working so hard I went and bought a real tree and decorations. I set it up and had it all ready for him upon his return.
Actually, I was in Montreal Quebec. It was Christmas Eve and I was a long way from home (Dresden, Tn, thank you very much) We had a huge cactus filled with red balls on strings as not to damage the Cactus. I was on the 21st floor of a high-rise and it began to snow. I could see on the street all of the people walking up and down in the white crispness and the air was so cold.
I remember believing in that very moment in things I couldn't verbalize or see.
It was a wonderful moment filled with possibility for a girl who had spent her life in rural America.
And it gave me faith for a little while.
As I looked out the window, I saw a horse-led sleigh about midnight.
It was enchanting.
Link...
I've been thinking about this over the morning as I ran some last minute errands. I don't know that any stands out as absolutely the best or worst. My family, both sides, always celebrated on c'mas eve. Santa managed to come to my g'mother's while we were out on some last minute errand or church or something.
My parents died when I was an infant, and when I was younger, my g'mother wouldn't let me go to my mother's family's on C'mas Eve because...well, who knows why. Anyway, I remember going to the Arkansas Delta when I was very small, maybe three, in a big ole Ford truck my g'father had just bought for his business. But the heater went out, and it was very cold. It was a 14 hour trip in those days, and we were having to stop every few miles so that the ice could be broken and scraped off.
Another time I remember getting one of those portable record players. They were cardboard and looked like a little suitcase. I don't remember what music I was playing but it got way loud too soon for my g'father, who liked to be the only loud one in the house....
When I got older and started splitting the evening between the two families, I remember that it was so much fun. My g'mother, my father's mother who raised me ran a quiet household -- except when her crazy husband was drunk -- and my mother's family is loud. Lots of music and conversation and silliness. They are who I spend C'mas Eve with these days. My other grandparents have been gone for years, and my brother has moved to Clarksville. His daughter and her family and I will go there next weekend to celebrate.
Pam Strickland
"We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful about what we pretend to be." ~Kurt Vonnegut
My sister and I were with our mother at the Radio Shack in LaFollette, TN. It was just before closing-time on Christmas Eve. (The Radio Shack was our family business at the time and my Mom managed the store and its employees.) I was 11 years old and my sister was 9 years and right before closing my father appeared with a tiny, newly weaned, boxer puppy in his coat pocket.
"Rudy," named after the beloved Cosby Show character, would be a part of our family for nearly fifteen years, until her peaceful passing in her sleep three years ago.
I'll always remember my father showing up with that adorable little dog and it will forever be my favorite childhood Christmas memory. I love this time of year.
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