Christmas Past 1966, 1967
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| Christmas 1965 The Christmas Song Years |
That's right, I remember it all except for maybe my first two or three Christmases. I remember a pair of red and white flannel pajamas that made me look like a
peppermint stick with red hair. But I loved those pajamas. That gift was received during my "good" Christmas years. When we received lots of suitable presents, we had plenty of food to eat and a nice warm place to live. Our apartment was filled with family and the wonderful smell of pies and cakes. My favorite person in the whole world was there, my Uncle Jerry. He always gave me the best stuff, but that wasn't why he was my favorite person; he was the one person in my entire family that I knew was crazy about me. He always made me feel special and loved.
It was during those years that I stopped believing in Santa Claus. I was five, and I had it all figured out. My family tried telling me that I was wrong, but I knew it was a made-up story. I was adamant about it. I remember telling them that Santa couldn't be everywhere at once. I saw him on street corners, I saw him in stores, I saw him on TV. No way was he real. I was a smart little girl. Payback came about three years later when I was chased around a Skillern's Drug Store in the Lakewood Shopping Center in Dallas by a dang Santa. A drunk Santa, I can still remember how he smelled. He actually did chase me, and he was yelling at me to stop running from him. I hid everywhere someone could in a public location and finally ran outside and hid behind a newspaper stand until I saw him swagger out of the store. From that point on, he was on my permanent hate list along with clowns. (shudder)
Other things I remember are cheapskate boyfriends who would break up with you right before Christmas because they didn't want to buy you a gift. I have their names! And if I ever see them, they are really going to regret it. If you have male kids or grandkids, tell them to buy their girlfriends a present. It doesn't have to be expensive, just give her something.
The holidays from about age 4 to age 7 were fantastic. When we moved to Dallas, I was 8, and everything in our world changed. No more presents, not even one, very little food, sometimes we had no heat or hot water or anything to cook on because the gas was turned off. I didn't even have a coat to wear, and yes, it does get chilly even in Dallas in the winter. It was awful, but my mom struggled as single moms do, trying to take care of us. It just wasn't working well. Those three years of my life were not so great, and I have no Christmas memories to share except for the Santa chasing me. It was kind of ironic that a kid who didn't believe in Santa, who was not going to have a Christmas, was chased down by one.
We moved back to Virginia when I was in sixth grade, right after the Cuban Missle Crisis. Things improved somewhat. We did get one present each, and that was all right. I felt guilty, even getting just one. We would spend Christmas at my Aunt Shirley's house for those next three years. We had lots of food, family, maybe too much family because she now had 3 somewhat bratty kids. Things were fine. My mom even bought a Christmas tree for us each year; each year, it looked the same; it was the original Fonzie Christmas Tree before there was a Fonzie. They were the leftover trees bought on Christmas Eve that nobody wanted. Small, short, skinny, somewhat branchless trees were decorated and placed upon a table to make them look better. Better than not having one at all.
In the late summer of 65, we moved to Oxon Hill, Maryland. It was a big upscale move for us. We were almost normal. My brother was in the Army and gone, which made my life automatically better. I had made new friends, and for once in my life, we didn't move for years, which allowed me to stay in the same school and keep the same friends. Those Christmas years were really the happiest ones in my life other than watching my own little kids enjoy the traditions years later.
That is what I have been thinking of the most in these weeks approaching Christmas 2016. The memories of my high school years and Christmas with my friends. Sadly, several of them are no longer alive, but it hasn't diminished my thoughts of them or those times. The Domer family always did Christmas right. They allowed me to intrude on their family traditions and fun. When I went to their house, holiday music would be playing, decorations were being put up, Mr. Domer would play the piano, and we would sing seasonal songs together. Shelley and I would go shopping at the Eastover Shopping Center, then walk over to the Hot Shoppes for a burger and hot chocolate, and then her dad would pick us up. Sometimes we would go to DC and walk around the delightfully decorated department stores, Woodward and Lothrop and Hecht's. The aroma of lovely perfume would be floating through the air, decorations were gorgeous, people were friendly, and merchandise was expensive.
To me, there is nothing quite as special as Washington DC during the holiday season. It's a special place, beautifully decorated with all of our Nation's best, most precious landmarks and monuments as a backdrop. The only thing that makes it prettier is snow on the ground. New snow, not the trampled, sludgy, muddy, oily mess. I love that town, not the traffic, the place. I don't believe that there is a better place to grow up; the availability of history is right there, right in your face.
The most recurrent memory I have of my seasons with the Domer's and the one that takes me back and brings tears every time I hear it is The Christmas Song by Johnny Mathis. I had never heard that song before, and when Shelley and I were talking about Christmas songs, she said, "I love The Christmas Song." I asked her which one, "The Christmas Song." "Well, okay, but which one?" She looked at me like I was crazy; she said, "I TOLD YOU!" Then she pranced over to the record player and put it on. I guess I looked blank; I had never heard it at my Santaless time of year. "That is The Christmas Song. That is the name of it, The Christmas Song." Needless to say, that song is one of my favorite tunes. Hearing it brings a rush of memories to mind, of happier, more simple times and special people. Listening to The Christmas Song is like pushing the play button on my Memory Videos in my brain locker. It takes me back, it makes me feel sad, but it makes me grateful for the time I had with my friend and her family.
And then I have memories of my friend Judy, but that is for my next post.
#ChristmasPast
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