More Christmas Memories
When I was very young, my mom would take me downtown to visit with Santa Claus. I always thought we were going to the real North Pole (which I called "the Near Pole"). Downtown Houston was an awe-inspiring place to a four year old. The buildings were so big and the streets were so busy! Very different from our suburban neighborhood called Overbrook. Mama and I would head downtown, all wrapped up in our winter coats and park in one of the utterly fascinating parking garages. It was like climbing a mountain in your car: you drove up and up and up to find a parking spot. Then you rode an elevator back down to the street level.
The place she took me to see Santa was the luxurious Foley's department store. Part of the journey included a trip out onto the chilly streets to walk by the Christmas displays in the store windows. Animated Christmas elves and reindeer would nod and blink from their artificial snowbound winter scenes. Peppermint candy cane fences and sparkly sugarplums abounded in these small vignettes. I was always quite enchanted with them, and it was worth the blast of icy cold wind howling down the concrete and steel canyon walls of Main Street.
Once inside, we began the wonderful excursion up to the fourth floor of Foleys. We had to pass through rack after rack of beautiful clothes, exotic colors and fabrics of all kinds, all at eye level for a child. I can still remember the smells and excitement I would experience when we entered that store: dozens of shoppers pushing in off the streets, tightly bundled in woolen coats and sweaters, sometimes lightly dusted with sleet or ice, bringing in with them little bursts of cold, fresh air to momentarily dispel the heady cloud of fragrances that hung over the perfume and makeup counters. There were loudspeaker announcements from the PA system heralding sales and specials, and above it all, Christmas music played enticingly, as seductive to a 4-year old as a siren's song, luring us towards the holy grail of our quest--Santa Claus.
I held tightly to my mother's hand as she wove us in and out of the crowds of shoppers and various departments until we arrived at the very center of the store and there before us rose the magical escalators. I loved the escalators. Better than the Ferris wheel at the fair, better than the pony rides at the park, they were the best attraction at any department store when we went shopping. Imagine the wonder to a small child of being able to rise magically up, up, up above the crowds of shoppers below, becoming taller and taller than everyone else, just like Alice in Wonderland.
[In fact, I loved riding the escalators so much that my mother tells the story of one time when she "lost" me inside of Joske's, another Houston department store. I was about four years old at the time. My mother was frantically searching the store for me, and then she glanced up and saw a big red bow just peeping above the top of the escalator rail going up and up. It was me, of course, barely big enough to hold onto the rail, but having a grand time riding the "magic carpet ride"!]
While part of the excitement of going to see Santa Claus was definitely wrapped up in the thrill of getting to ride the escalators non-stop straight up to the fourth floor, the real treat was the absolute conversion of a portion of that cavernous fourth floor into the North Pole. The staff at Foley's really outdid themselves at Christmas time. An entire winter wonderland had been set up, complete with sidewalks and tunnels through artificial snow banks that winked and shimmered with gaily colored lights and glistening diamond drop snowflakes. More animated characters--elves clothed in red and green suits busily hammered and sawed toys in their workshops, oversized ballerina dolls with pink tutus and toy soldiers in magnificent tunics of black and gold turned like marionettes, reindeer "grazed" on bales of hay--greeted us along our journey, promising the most wonderful delights to a four-year old child who fervently "believed". Christmas tunes carried in the air and the excitement just built and built.
And finally, after winding our way through the entire wonderful maze, we approached the most wonderful sight of all: Santa Claus. Santa was always seated on his golden throne, as godlike as Zeus on Mt. Olympus. One of Santa helpers, a beautiful lady elf in a green velvet skirt and red tights would come to take your hand and lead to you sit in Santa's lap.
When it was your turn, of course, you had to be very brave and actually leave your mother behind at the gate, but the lure of seeing Santa was a very powerful motivator. Sometimes the children would cry--if they didn't like being separated from their mothers--and sometimes siblings would be taken up in pairs or trios--so their mom could just pay for one group photograph--but mostly we went up one by one.
Once on Santa's lap, things moved very quickly. The lady elf retreated to a camera, the bulb flashed with a loud pop! And almost before you could recover from the spots in front of your eyes, Santa would ask what you wanted for Christmas in a very gruff voice. I always got stage fright at this point and could never remember my list. I remember being so shy! I wouldn't cry, but I would sit on Santa's lap and my mind would go blank. I couldn't remember a single thing I had planned to tell Santa I wanted for Christmas. Fortunately my mom was always standing just a little ways off and she would prompt me from the sidelines:
"You wanted some dishes, and a Chatty Kathy, and record player, remember?"
Oh, yes, of course. With a great whoosh of relief, the words would come tumbling out. Santa would remind me to be a good girl, give me a little pat on the back and a lollipop from the big red velvet bag at his side, and down I would go. Duty done, I was free to tromp down the descending ramp and into the waiting and proud arms of my mother.
A few days later, my picture with Santa would arrive in the mail, and my mother would proudly display it as part of our overall Christmas decorations for that year.
Of course, once you had been to see Santa, the pressure to "be good for goodness' sake" was on. Santa had your list, he knew what you wanted, and if you messed up between your visit and Christmas Eve, you knew what you would find on Christmas morning: nothing but lumps of coal in your stocking. And somehow, even though I had known plenty of children to misbehave, I had never personally heard of anyone who failed to receive their presents from Santa, so he must have been a pretty forgiving fellow.
Vickie
I always remember going to my grandma's house on Christmas eve. My brother and I would go early then later my parents would come. All my aunts and uncles and cousins would come. Dinnertime would come,all the kids would get our plates and go to the basement to eat and play afterwards with my youngest aunt as a chaperone. The adults would stay upstairs. Then we finally get to open our presents. We stay to after midnight so Santa would visit while we were at grandmas. One year we got a colored console TV for christmas. My brother was like there must be a Santa to bring us that. Then the next day we would spend the day with the other grandparents until they died. I will cherished all the memories with my grandparents.
I said I'd be back...here it is: Finding the Perfect Tree
When I was a kid, our Christmas Trees all came from one of the many mountains that surrounded the valley in which we lived. In those days, Mama loaded all the kids up in her old car and armed with both a saw and an axe, we drove off in search of the perfect tree. My older brothers and sisters were all grown and married, leaving my nine-year-old brother, Ricky, my four-year-old sister, Kathy, and me about to turn 6.
That morning, we all piled in the car and that was before we minded sitting right next to each other so there was no fuss about who got in the front seat, like when the older kids were home and always calling front seat...and, even Bootsie, our dog, climbed right in and found her spot next to Mama. Of course, no trip would be complete without Mama lighting a cigarette, and, since I had asthma, she said, "Ricky, roll down your window a bit so Sis won't have the attack." That's what they called my asthma attack. She rolled her window down too and in spite of the freezing weather and snow on the roads, we drove on with windows cracked enough to blow in cold air but enough so the smoke would go out of the windows and not in my lungs.
The roads were still slick from the last snow, but that never stopped Mama from heading up the mountain, and she wasn't afraid of going off the main highway either. We crossed over low water bridges and slid around curves as we headed to the perfect Christmas tree spot. After a long while, Mama pulled the car off the side but not too far off the side of the road. In plain sight, a large No Trespassing sign was nailed to a fence post but that didn't stop Mama any more than the snow-covered road. "That don't mean us," she said. "Come on. Let's get us a tree and maybe some China Berries."
With Ricky carrying the saw and she the axe, we crawled between strands of barbed wire fence, tracked through snow, and disentangled ourselves from blackberry vines to find a nice clearing where a cluster of Christmas Trees stood, limbs bent heavy with snow. I don't know what kind of trees they were; for our purposes, it just had to be some kind of Christmas-looking tree, but I do remember the smell of cedar so it could be that the tree was either a cedar tree or near a grove of cedars.
Bootsie, our dog, ran around plowing her nose in the fresh snow and Mama scolded her to calm down...Bootsie loved Mama and did everything Mama said, so she did calm down and stood right by Mama. Kathy had started crying because her feet, legs, and hands were cold. We never had warm coats or gloves or even warm shoes. I let her climb up on my back, and she snuggled close. Mama went from one tree to another, trying to pick the perfect one, and she sure took her time. Ricky, not old enough or big enough to be in any kind of authority role during the process kept saying, that the tree wasn't big enough and we should get that one or this one and finally, the two agreed.
I wanted to help cut the tree down but Mama said, "Oh, Sis, you're way too little to be swinging an old axe and that saw has some sharp teeth...let us cut it down." So she and Ricky worked for what seemed like hours cutting down the tree, and I found a tree stump to put Kathy on. Even Bootsie had tired of the snow and jumped up on the stump to get out of the snow. On our way back, I found some wild China berries growing and Mama had looked in her purse and found a paper sack that she kept for just in case so Ricky, Kathy, and I picked a sack full of beautifully bright red berries that we would string into long strands of garland.
Even though cutting the tree down and dragging it back to the car was a feat that I didn't think a nine-year-old boy and his mother could do, that was nothing compared to the three of trying to hoist it to the top of the car. Mama put Kathy in the car with Bootsie and Ricky and I climbed up on the top and Mama hoisted and Ricky and I pulled and pulled and without gloves on, our hands were getting red welts from the evergreen and since I was clearly allergic to life I had already started breaking out in hives from whatever grew near or on the tree...just when we were about to try to put it in the trunk, we heard a car in the distance. It turned out that another family was looking for the perfect tree too, and it seemed they, too, didn't think no trespassing signs meant them, so they stopped and helped Mama tie our tree to the top of the car. For their help, Mama pointed them to the place we had just been and promised they would find their perfect tree. The man was a little too friendly with Mama, telling her the next time, she should call him and we could all make it a huge picnic and his wife kept glaring at him. The fact that he was flirting with our mama wasn't lost on Ricky and he said, "Come on Mama, we gotta get home." So, we got in the car and headed back down the mountain.
Getting the tree off the car and into the house was pretty easy but once in our living room, we realized we had not thought accurately about the size, so back out the front door we drug the tree and after a while, we did manage to get the tree groomed so that it not only fit in our living room corner but the top would support a star.
Mama spread a sheet out around the floor, and she sprayed the branches very cautiously with a can of snow. "Who'd thought we'd be bringing a tree in and putting snow on it?" she asked. But that's exactly what we did, and we strung lights, and hung icicles and the garland that we made from our China Berries and Garland we made from popcorn. We put familiar red, blue, and gold balls on our tree, and there were bells and angels and reindeer. We had homemade ornaments that all Mama's kids through the years had made and very gingerly, she put up the ornament that Eva Joe had made.
Eva Joe was buried out at the cemetery where Mama's first husband was buried. They both died in the car wreck that happened years before Ricky, Kathy, and I were born. Also buried in that cemetery was our oldest brother Donald, who was killed in the war. Mama put Eva Joe's little ornament up, and then she had us make a star out of cardboard and aluminum. While we worked on the star, Mama put out the beautiful nativity scene that Donald had sent from Germany the year before he died. Mama's life was filled with death: losing two kids and her husband, her grief was always right there waiting to take her from laughter to tears without a word, so after hanging Eva Joe's ornament, she could not be cheered back up nor could she enjoy the rest of the evening. She did go into the kitchen, and she made homemade fudge and another pan of popcorn. The tree was decorated and we even found some old socks that we were leaving under the tree to remind Mama to hang up...
That night, we watched the twilight zone, ate the fudge and popcorn, and drank a little coke that she had bought for us earlier. Back in those days, cokes were a treat and always came in a six pack and the bottles went back to the store. Two cokes filled four small ice packed glasses. Mama remained silent the rest of the night but she did say we did a good job helping her get the tree and how beautiful it was decorated. She reminded us to be careful to keep water in the can and not get rowdy around the tree.
Mama was always looking out the door as if she were expecting visitors and before we all went to bed, she looked out the front door and she called us to the door...look at the moon, she said, it's so bright, it's shining through the clouds...we'll have snow tonight...and that night, while we all slept, a blizzard blew in from the north and covered our little valley with two feet of snow. Sometime during the night, Mama woke up and realizing how cold the house had gotten, she got all of us kids out of our bed and led us back to her bed where her electric blanket provided more warmth than our quilts, so we all snuggled under her heavy covers--Kathy next to Mama, then me, and on the outside, Ricky and curled up on the other side of Mama, right on the edge of the bed was Bootsie. In all my life since those days of snuggling in bed with my mama, I don't think that I have ever felt as safe or as warm, and I don't think that I ever saw a tree as beautiful as the ones that we drove all over the mountains looking for and dragging home and decorating. Life was so much easier back in those days.
