As with every year before, when the holiday season approached, my older brother and I (mainly my brother) knew the task before us would be difficult. Our parents were becoming smarter and wiser to our tricks each year. This particular year, I do believe they think they had our detective habits counteracted very soundly. The presents would be hidden well this year (they thought). We had a camping trailer which was parked in the carport, and this year our parents decided that they would put any presents in there, and lock the door. With the key to the trailer secured soundly in the pocket of my father, there was little hope of us getting in. After well planned searches within the home turned up absolutely nothing, we deducted that either, we were bad and weren't getting anything this year, or, they hid the gifts outside. Using the brilliant male deductive reasoning given to us at birth, we naturally went with the latter choice. Us? Bad boys? Nah.
Quite naturally to us both, the only places left to look, were my fathers workshop in the backyard, which we had too easy of access to for them to be there, and the trailer. So, we peered through the windows, but the drapes inside were pulled entirely too tight for us to see anything, a good clue to us that we were getting hot. My brother paced around the trailer several times, me trailing close behind him, eyeballing for any possible way to access this fortress of fun. Finally, he spoke. "Okay Paul", "Squeeze your skinny butt through this trapdoor in the back, kick out the back of the seat, squeeze through the little hole, and unlock the door from the inside." So, that's just what I did. Bingo! We hit the jackpot, and lucky us, that Christmas, we knew everything we were getting. It only took a couple of hours for my guilt to kick in, and I tried every imaginable way to bust myself, without simply admitting to it. That Christmas was not quite the same to me after the trailer incident (better known as "trailer gate"); I came to realize how much I enjoyed the surprise.

Christmas has long been my favorite holiday. I love this time of year. I don't think I have just one favorite memory, but I'll share with you one of the ones that stand out the most in my mind.

My mother always has a Christmas party at her house. Many members of our extended family gather together in her family room for an evening of fun and festivities. Her tree is always beautiful, and the entire house is decorated inside and out. Each year, my mother comes up with different games for us to play and always has gifts involved with these games. One year, I helped with getting these gifts for her. While she was busy getting her house in order for that evening's gathering, I took my very precocious 4 year old son with me to the store to pick up the gifts to go along with my mother's reading of 'Twas The Night Before Christmas' (which has become a yearly game now). As we were walking through the store, my son noticed that Santa was there. Now most children would have wanted to go stand in that atrocious line to tell Santa what they wanted for Christmas. Not my son! Oh No!! What he wanted, was for me to tell him how Santa got there since the reindeer weren't waiting for him on the roof of the store! What to do?? Hmmmmmm.....I always found it best to let him answer his own questions. He did a much better job of it than I did anyway! I told him that I wasn't sure where the reindeer were. How did he think Santa got there? He promptly told me that he was positive that the reindeer were so tired from the flight to our city, that they had to go home and take a nap while Santa met with all the children, and would be back to pick him up when the store closed. LOL leave it to a 4 year old huh?

Later that evening, my stepfather was playing Santa for our gift exchange. With all the family members there for the party, there wasn't much room for maneuvering around the tree. Ron bent over to get one of the boxes to pass out. Suddenly, he jumped straight up in the air and screamed 'OMG that's hot!!' Seems he had gotten a tad close to the fireplace! This, of course, has become a favorite story to tell each year at Mom's party. 'Do you remember when Ron......???' HeeHee

This particular year, my mother's party was on Christmas Eve. We were at her house into the wee hours. The kids were sleeping soundly in the car by the time we pulled into the driveway, so getting them to bed was no problem! I was so tired by the time I got the Santa gifts set out by the tree, and it was so cold outside, I didn't even want to think about taking the boxes out into the garage. I decided that I could just put them in one of the huge bags they gave me at the store, and put them in the crawl space in our family room until I had time to get rid of them. Bad idea!!! The next morning when I got up, my son was so excited. He was just jabbering away about something. I asked him what had him so excited. And he promptly told me that Santa shopped at K-Mart too and left his trash under the house!!! LOLOL

Our first Christmas in Oklahoma was in 1966. I was eight years old and my sister seven. We settled in, Salina, a small town in northeast Oklahoma. Our Dad wasn't working at the time so we didn't have a tree, decorations, or the food for a special Christmas dinner. On Christmas eve came a loud knocking on our door and when we answered no one was there, but on our porch was a box of toys and the fixin's for a great Christmas dinner. I knew then there really is a Santa Claus. To those wonderful people, you made it a special Holiday for two little girls that year. Thank You! ............ Oh yes, and I still believe in Santa Claus!

I recall a day which really stands out in my memory. . . This was in about 1975 when I was 7 years old, over Christmas break when I was out of school. We had just had a really big snow of about 10-12", followed by a freezing rain on top of the snow, and then a light dusting of snow on top of that. It was the kind of snow that I've always called "the finishing touch" because it is the type of dry, dusty snow that happens when it's pretty cold, so it turns out looking like sparkling glitter in the sunlight. Anyway, on this crisply cold and sunny December day, my Mom and I decided we would go sledding together. We lived in the country and had five acres of land and our little lane in front of our house. So, we bundled up and got my sled out of the garage in preparation. My being young and small at the time, my mother laid on the sled and I laid on her back. We sledded all over the place that day, and the conditions were the most perfect for sledding that I have ever seen. That deep snow with the thick crust of ice on top and then the fine layer of snow on top of that made it just ideal. We were able to go really fast down the hill, and we had such an awesome day together that day. I am an only child so I have lots of special memories with my Mom, but this particular day was the best time we have ever had together I think. It was like a winter wonderland that day; everything was so beautiful. We marveled at the ice covered trees that glistened in the sunlight, the icicles that were all over everything, and the glittering snow. Everything almost seemed too perfect to be real that day, but it was. It was fairly cold too, but we had so much fun we really didn't notice. After we sledded to our hearts' content, which was for about 4-5 hours, and laughed and had such a wonderful time, we went inside. That's when we really became aware of just how cold outside it was. Mom made some homemade hot chocolate with marshmallows, and we had Christmas cookies with it. We warmed up and talked about what fun we'd had. I have never had better hot chocolate than that day either. I know it was just the atmosphere of it all, but it was really special. That must be the most perfect day I have ever had! I am now 31 years old with two children of my own, and my Mom is now 60. Every so often we still reminisce about that fun day we had sledding together in our little winter wonderland. I know it is a special memory for her too, and one that I will always cherish, especially after my mother is no longer alive. I hope to recreate a magical day like this with my own kids someday.

I am the oldest of three children in my family, and the only girl. My brothers, Dirk and Paul, shared a bedroom throughout their lives while I always had one of my own ... always, that is, except for at Christmas time. At Christmas time, my Nana always came to visit us from Florida. This was really special to me, because it was the only time of the year that we usually got to see her. Anyway, I am already digressing from my favorite memory ... I was eight years old when I found out that there was no man in a red suit that was really Santa Claus, and that Santa Claus was the spirit of Christmas that surrounded each of us in our home. Bless my mother. I can still remember how she answered all my eight year old questions with such love and preserved the excitement of Christmas for me even when I no longer "believed". She spent so much time with me, wanting to make sure that I didn't reveal my new knowledge to my brothers, so that it wouldn't spoil anything for them -- so that they wouldn't grow up and stop believing before their time.

That Christmas, as usual, Mom set up a cot for me in the boys' room so that Nana could have my bedroom while she visited us. Somehow, I felt older than the boys -- like I knew a secret that they didn't know. We always talked for hours, it seemed, on Christmas Eve waiting to be able to get up and wake our parents. This particular year, I told Dirk and Paul that I could hear the sleigh and the reindeer outside. Pretty soon, they, too, could hear the bells jingling and the hoof prancing on our room. I knew that Santa wasn't really out there, but before long I really could hear him, too and I was as excited as they both were. The stories went on and on that night. When I awoke the next morning to Paul jumping on my cot, I was not really sure whether Santa had been outside on our roof or not.

As I think of this night, even now, I remember it as one of pure joy and magic -- one that preserved my childhood and was filled with love and the spirit of Christmas. Thanks Mom, Nana, Dirk and Paul for the memory ...

My most favorite Christmas memories are: The very first Christmas I spent with both of my children...was the most wonderful experience! Just watching in amazement as they come into to the room and see all the presents under the tree and their stockings full....awww....what more could you ask for! Especially when they read their letter from Santa!! Gives me warm fuzzies all over :))

This Christmas will also be a wonderful one: as it is my Mother's first Christmas in remission!! (Well since she was diagnosed). Christmas...a wonderful season of renewal!!

We always had more than enough. We were spoiled for years. Barbies, trucks and clothes. Whatever little kids has visions of in their beds on Christmas Eve, we received. Of course Mom and Dad always wanted to give us the best and for us to know we were loved but we didn't appreciate it then. We have had so many bad years. Mom having a heart attack on Christmas Eve, being sent to the city on life support not knowing if she would live or die. It seemed like every year just around the holidays she would be in hospital. One year even Dad was in hospital at Christmas with his diabetes and blood clots. Christmas went from being the best time of the year to the worst and no one looked forward to it. Someone would always be sick, money was tight and even though we were grown kids now, the magic was gone and Christmas just wasn't what it was. Last Christmas was different. We did not want or need a lot of gifts. We didn't need anything as long as we were together. Dad and I went and cut a real tree for the first time. We always had an artificial one. It was 3 feet too big but we cut it off the bottom and thinned it out and it was the most beautiful tree we ever had. Dad baked his famous Christmas Bread. We all sat around enjoying the time together and on Christmas Eve thinking we would have a green Christmas and wondering would Mom make it through another year. It was ten years ago she had the heart attack. Would it happen again? We were all nervous but did not want to say anything and jinx it. Then from out of the blue on what seemed like a summer day fell a few snowflakes. One by one we watched them fall. By the time Christmas morning came, we had three feet of snow and it was beautiful. It was pure white and fresh. For three days it snowed and no one came to visit us. We could just relax and have fun and enjoy the peacefulness. Maybe it was a miracle. A promise maybe. A promise that this year we would have our Christmas just like we did when we were children. We would have sugar plums dancing in our heads but this time we would not have wished for the newest toys we would have wished for a happy and healthy Christmas.

I have many wonderful memories of Christmas, however the one that touched me most was Christmas of 1987. My big brother, Red, along with his 2nd wife and his oldest son had just moved back to WNY from Texas. Red was dying of cancer and could no longer manage away from home. We all had pooled the resources we had to buy plane tickets for my stepdad and brother, Rich, to fly down and help drive the cars and belongings home. Red was going to be followed at Roswell Cancer Center. My big, strong brother was so frail and thin! We knew it would be his last Christmas. His two younger children still lived in Texas with their mom. The only thing my brother wanted was to be able to spend this last Christmas with his kids. Well we had no idea of how we were going to manage this, there just wasn't any money left. I wrote a letter to a local radio station that ran a contest every year called "Home for the Holidays". I explained the situation and then prayed. Hundreds, maybe thousands of people wrote to this station, I really didn't think we had a chance. Well Thanksgiving Day I got a phone call saying that we had won! My brothers children would be with him for Christmas! He hugged me so hard! He wanted to know what he could do to thank me. I told him that just the joy in his face was enough. That was my last present to my brother, but you know what his last present to me was? I was married on December 19, 1987 and as frail and ill as he was, he showed up at the church. It was a complete surprise to me. I saw him as I walked down the aisle. I started crying pure tears of joy and there was not a dry eye in the house. My brother, my hero, my friend.
A Life with Love will have some Thorns,
but a Life without Love will have no Roses

My husband , my step-son, and I were going up to my dad's house for Christmas one year, and the highways were icy, and it was snowing so hard. When we were about half way there, we suddenly saw this dark shape in the middle of the road, just before we hit it! well, as you can imagine, we were scared out of our minds! when we got a look at what we had hit, it turned out to be a Christmas tree that had fallen off of someone's vehicle! The car was fine, so we continued our journey. When we got to the exit for the second freeway we had to go on, we started to go into a spin! the car did a complete 360 degree turn, but once again, we stayed safe! We finally got to my dad's house safe and sound, and we had a wonderful time that year!

Christmas Eve in Canada - Many years ago! The whole family and friends gathered at my Gramma's on Christmas Eve for a wonderful party. After the party everyone went to Midnight Mass on their sleigh and yes "horses" and after mass visiting everyone on the way home to have hot homemade bread. There is nothing like a wonderful sleigh ride on a snowy night. Just beautiful - there were very few cars in this little town. - Gramma lived on a long one street town in Canada, at this time everyone went everywhere with horse and buggy. Would love to do this one more time.

When I was 7 years old, Christmas wasn't what we were used to at all that year. The entire year leading up to Christmas was a tough one for my family...Mom had been really sick and in the hospital alot, Dad had some problems with work, we lost our house and wound up moving to a strange new town away from all of our friends and family. As it grew closer to Christmas, I recall overhearing Mom and Dad talking about "no presents", "no money", "what to do", etc.

We decorated our tree and house just like all the Christmas' before but nothing was wrapped and underneath it. I didn't mind so much. I just knew that Santa was gonna come through for us!

Christmas morning rolled around and my stocking was overflowing and there were presents under the tree! Before I started unwrapping things, Dad made sure I opened an envelope that was stuck on a tree branch with my name on it. The card and letter inside was from none other than "Santa"! He explained to me how gifts are what comes from the heart and how it really is the thought that counts and how the spirit of Christmas is not about giving or getting gifts, but about love.

After reading his letter, I started opening the presents. Everything I received that year was something either Mom had made or something that had belonged to Mom and Dad. For instance, Dad gave me his tape recorder and Mom gave me her photo album. I still have both of those things to this day, tucked away somewhere.

While we were growing up we always had a Sugar Plum Tree besides our big one. We decorated the tree, it was a little one, with popcorn strings, cranberry strings, cookies, and chocolates each wrapped in paper. Every night before we went to bed we got to pick one to eat so we would have sweet dreams. If we had company they took one home with them. One year we my mother found some bells that rang for it and we were all excited. However we didn't have the tree for long because my parents found out about a family that had nothing and on Christmas Eve we delivered our Sugar Plum Tree to them, along with one present from each of us.We also took our turkey and all the trimmings. I don't remember what we had to eat on Christmas day but we were not deprived obviously. Mother could never afford more bells but she would mention them often. She always told us the story of the Sugar Plum Tree over the holidays.

Actually one of my most precious memories of Christmas was the one right after WWII was over. My Dad was the oldest of 12 children and the Sunday before Christmas was always the family Christmas at my Grandma's house. At that time, I was the oldest of about 40 grandchildren (I have an older half-sister, also) so this meant about 60 people gathered at Grandma's house.

For several years before the Christmas to which I am referring, we had not been able to all be together because my uncles were in the military. My Grandma had 5 sons, 2 sons-in-law, and an English daughter-in-law serving overseas for most of the war . (All came back except one son-in-law).

Even though I was quite young, I sensed the feelings of gratitude and relief that day. The war was over and all but one of my uncles were home for good. The one who could not be there, had been home the summer before so we knew he was ok, too. I can only imagine the joy in my Grandma's heart knowing that "Laura's boys", as my uncles were called, were all safe and together again.

When I was 14 and my brother was 12, my mom died of cancer just two months before Christmas. It was right at the time a teenage girl really starts needing her mom in her life. The funeral came and went, then Thanksgiving, and then it was the Christmas season. I don't remember feeling much joy during the days before Christmas came, but I do remember my dad trying to make the holiday as normal for my brother and I as much as possible. we decorated the tree, put up a few crafts my mom had made over the years, visited relatives, and mainly did all the regular stuff we had before mom died. The only thing that would be different was mom not being there. Two days before Christmas, packages began filling in the gaps under our decorated tree...but there weren't any tags on them as to who they were meant for. That seemed a bit odd, but I didn't dwell on it. then, Christmas day dawned...I remember it as a bright, crisp day...with a layer of fresh snow on the ground and the sun gleaming down upon it. My dad, my brother, and I sat down around the tree and began handing each other packages. There still weren't any tags on some of them, but dad sure seemed to know who they were for. As I opened the first one, I recognized my mom's way of wrapping gifts...I glanced up at my dad and noticed he had a funny look on his face. I continued to open that gift, and found a hand sewn blouse in my favorite color (dark green)...pinned to it was a note from my mom: "Diana, I hope you like this...love, momma." Again I looked at my dad and found him looking at me. He said that mom had spent her last 6 months sewing and shopping for us for Christmas, all the while firmly believing she would still be there with us for that Christmas. each gift that was without a tag was from mom...lovingly bought, or sewn, or wrapped with her special touch, and you know what? I'd bet mom really was there with us for that Christmas, watching her family as they received her love in an unusual way...no-tag gifts and her special loving touch.

Ever since I was a small child, I can remember that their were always cookies for Christmas. A favorite in the Payne family house was my mother's Pinwheel cookies. They were so yummy.

I guess I was about 4 at the time. We still lived in the city of Lacawanna, near Buffalo, New York. My older brothers Curt and Robert had paper routes. They would make their collections and hide the money in the attic!!!! Strange place I know, but that is where they hid it!!!!

Well it just so happens that my mother would make the Christmas cookies, the pinwheels included, about a week before Christmas. She would package them up and hide them in The ______. (yes The Attic), LOL I guess the family had a thing for the attic.

Well that year, My brothers discovered her hiding place. They were forever saying we are going to take care of our paper route money and make sure it is all their. LOL Actually what they were doing is going to the attic to eat all the pinwheel cookies!!!!!!!!

Well Christmas Day came. Dinner and presents were out of the way and my mother decides it is time to serve the cookies. She goes to the Attic and discovers that their are no Pinwheel cookies. All the rest are their, but not one pinwheel cookie.

Needless to say, My Dad was a none to happy man that night, because they were his favorite cookie. I can't remember what happened to the boys, but I am sure that it was not pleasant LOL.