I love when we have Family Christmas at my house. Both my sisters and their families, my brother (sometimes), my parents and sometimes even my Aunt Judy come here Christmas Eve and spend the night and we all wake up Christmas morning and have a big family Christmas. It's awesome. I really love it and can't wait for it again.
Here's some photos from years past:
Sara checking out her stocking
Dominick looking at the Hermit Crab that Mikey found in his stocking
Isis looking on as Ben finds a Nerd's rope. He is a little nerd. 
Everyone got to see Kelsey open the big box that held her kitten that she named "Angel".The nieces and nephews will remember the Christmases at Aunt Bobbie's house and want to do that with their own kids and siblings some day, hopefully. My children will always remember these special days with love in their hearts for home.
It's so much more special when you can wake up in the morning, as an adult, and still get to spend Christmas morning with your siblings and parents. The memories it brings out of when you were young and running down the steps to shake the presents and trying to guess what's inside each package. One year, my brother and I carefully unwrapped one end of one of our presents and peeked inside. To this day I don't remember what was inside, but I remember the excitement of peeking. I think Mom would have been so pissed off had she only known.
In my memory, there was always Christmas music playing in the background too. I remember when April was little and I was a teenager by then, but we all got generic Cabbage Patch Kids from Grandma and Pappy Ogburn and Aunt Judy and John Porter. We struck the mother load!!! We must have each gotten like three of these ugly dolls, but we loved them just the same as if they were the expensive ones. They were the "tickle me elmo" of the old days. Even though they weren't the real thing, we didn't care. Here's a picture of Sherry, George, Apee and Me around that time:
Sherry was 10 1/2, George was 12 1/2, Apee was 6 1/2 and I was 15. I remember a certain Christmas when I was sixteen and a boyfriend of mine gave me a tan rabbit fur coat. He didn't know that I didn't like fur, but I accepted it anyway without telling him my feelings. He was so excited to give me this beautiful coat and I didn't want to hurt his feelings. In my mind I thought he must have really loved me to give me something so extravagant. For a young man (18), he really had a lot of Christmas Spirit and I remember loving that about him.
Another Christmas memory I have is when Grandma Stair would come to our house and give us our Christmas Eve present. She was an Avon Lady and would give us a little white Avon bag with samples in. I think she put money in there, but don't remember for sure. I just remember loving those little tiny tubes of lipstick samples and perfume samples. Ha, now thinking back, she got off cheap, but she gave me wonderful memories and that's what's important. (*note that the Christmas Spirit is creeping into my soul as I sit here typing.)
When I was still fortunate enough to have all of my grandparents living, Christmas was the best. All the cousins, aunt and uncles, and parents and grandparents would all go over to Great Grandma and Pappy Shrader's house either Christmas Eve or Christmas night. I can't remember, but all I know is that it was always dark. The house would be so full of people and it smelled so wonderful. Grandma would hand out her Christmas envelopes. Tucked inside the bank envelope would be a brand spanking, new, crisp one dollar bill for me. The great grandchildren got a dollar, the grandchildren got two dollars, the children got 5 or 10, I forget. I loved getting that from her and sure do wish she was alive to tell her that. It was only a dollar, but it was always given with so much love. (*note, more spirit sneeking in.) She always had the best Angel food cake that gave me hiccups, ha ha. For some reason I remember her having these oranges for decoration that had cloves poked all through them. They smelled really good. Gosh, I miss her. Pappy died when I was 5 or 6 and Grandma died when I was 13 I think. She was such a wonderful woman and beautiful too. Here's a picture of Grandma and Pappy in 1957 (way before I was born)
The only things I remember about Pappy is that he loved her with all his heart and he loved me too. He was a tall, strong man. He took me to Park City Mall when I was 5 at Christmas time and I still hold those memories near to my heart. The magical scenes I saw there can never be topped. Little miniature scenes of Christmas everywhere. The way they decorated back then was pure magic. Looking down and seeing the ice skating rink right in the center of the mall with all the people skating. In my mind they look like Dickens Carolers, but I'm sure it wasn't like that, but memories have a way of becoming more romantic as the years past. (*Wow, Christmas Spirit overload here.)
When I was four my brother and I got a visit from Santa. He was just a toddler and didn't understand any of it, but I sure did. I heard the reindeer on the roof of my Grandma and Pappy Honeycutt's house. I heard the bells. Oh, the bells! The excitement just can't even be written. Too much for words. Santa came in with his big red bag and had a present for each of us, my uncles included. Poor little Georgie sat there looking up at Santa the whole time with his arm stretched upward. He finally did get his present, a Fisher Price or Playskool Ferris Wheel. That year the tree was swallowed up by all the presents. The picture just doesn't give it justice. In my memory the presents were all the way to the ceiling.
Here's a picture from that year:
and a newer one of my brother and me
The following year, my uncles who are only a few years older than me told me that Santa is not always real. They said that the only way you can tell is to pull his beard. Mom took me to the Santa Shack on the square of Littlestown. I remember this like it was just yesterday. I stood in line with my mom, freezing, waiting to see if this was the real Santa. Finally it was my turn. I stepped into his little wooden shanty. He said, "Ho, Ho, Ho" and asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I think it tickled him when I, in my pretty little, white tights and black patten shoes told him I wanted to be a football player. (you see, I grew up with my uncles and they were always playing football but wouldnt' let me play. They always made me act as the cheerleader, but I wanted to play.) So anyway, then he asks me what I would like for Christmas and if I was a good girl. I quickly told him I wanted a baby doll called "Baby Alive" and then I proceeded to pull his beard. He was not the real Santa afterall and my uncles were right. Well, I was given an orange and a candy cane and sent on my way. I bet "Santa" shared my story later that evening with "Mrs. Claus".
me around that time.
an earlier picture of my uncles and meBack to present day and time I sit here at my computer listening to Kelsey play "Joy to the World" on the piano and I'm beaming with Christmas Spirit. Thanks to all my family and friends, past and present who have given me these memories. It has filled me with a joy of Christmas.
I hope that by having Christmas at Bobbies, I will be included in my children's and my nieces and nephews wonderful Christmas memories. I can't wait for you all to get here. I love you.
1 comment:
I just love reading your memories, Bobbie! That was lovely - and gets me into the spirit, too!
Post a Comment