When I think of Christmas, I think about the time that I was left alone with the wrapped presents, and I carefully unwrapped one of the packages with my name on it. I found something I loved, a set of Breyer model horses. Then I taped it back up and felt guilty and had to pretend to be surprised on Christmas morning. I never did that again. I would guess I was around 14 years old.
I was an only child, and Santa never wrapped or put name tags on the presents he left for me. He just piled them around the Christmas tree, which was behind the couch when a little bit of confusion ensued. I was probably in about fourth grade, maybe. I was going through all the presents, and my mom said, “What’s this one over here?” It was a plain brown cardboard box with a piece of machinery inside, so I responded, “I think that’s something of yours.” My mom told me it definitely wasn’t hers. I took a closer look and found a rock polisher. I was really excited about that. Some friends of the family made jewelry with polished rocks and I thought it was so cool. I never used it much, though. You had to buy special rocks to get something spectacular.
Santa left me something once to let me know I was a little naughty, but do you know I can’t remember if it was a lump of coal or a bundle of switches! I’m getting old!
Thinking of Santa makes me recall the time my mom had her hysterectomy. I know my dad came home from his submarine, but for a while, at least, it was just me and her. I lost a tooth, and she just wasn’t up to doing the tooth fairy thing. She was crying when she told me the tooth fairy wasn’t real, and I was crying when I told her I already knew. I was about 10 years old.
My mom told me stories about Christmas when she was growing up. Their stockings would have fruit and nuts, and maybe a bit of candy. She usually received a book, and perhaps some clothing. Nothing on the grand scale of 21st century Christmas consumerism.
P.S. I got a bit mixed up on my topics, so this is the second 2021 #52Ancestors post with the Holiday theme!