DrMcCoy had a good idea for a Forum Topic: "What Does Christmas Mean to You?"...I would suggest also including items of past meaningful
Christmas's, childhood traditions in your home, first Christmas away from home, and anything you would like to tell us about just
what memories the Holiday Season holds or how you feel about it in general. Thanks
.....Submitted by RickiBabe 12/10....
Family... those present and those who couldn't make it home. The fireplace bright with warmth and the fire screen decorated with knitted Christmas
stockings. The kitchen full of laughter and smells that bring memories of past Christmases to mind. Cousins, 16 of us, females holding Christmas dolls..
boys throwing snow balls. A squirrel eating an ear of corn as fast as it could on the bird feeder while we raced in the snow under the tree. Bubble lights
on the Christmas tree casting a red glow on the Christmas bulb with my name written that was surrounded by the other fifteen grandchildren's bulbs. The
box of old toys in the living room closet we would pull out next to the floor heating vent. Linen napkins with silver names engraved and held in silver
napkin rings. The uncles all wearing Santa hats and aprons...and big silly grins. My grandmother's thin, well-worn apron, often with a knot in it after my
grandfather went in the kitchen to see if he could "help" her in any way. The my cousin who sat in between my sister and I to keep us from fighting at the
dinner table. Realizing as adults that the reason my sister and I could not get close together at the table after missing each other so much was because the
cousin's lifetime habit had her still "on duty". Ice cream formed in the shape of Santa, candles and trees for dessert. The potato in the bottom of our stocking
to show how bad we had been through the year. The potatoes collected and cooked for dinner so we could start over fresh again. The third story bedroom
with a wall of windows looking out over the roof to the street behind my grandparent's where a life-sized Santa, sleigh and eight reindeer stood in a snow
covered yard bright with lights. The wool blankets that kept us warm in that attic room. The freezer on the side porch that was full of tins of homemade
Christmas cookies. Ice skating on the pond and roller skating in the rink indoors when it was just too cold to ice skate. The cousins from Texas and how
they would wail if a snowball managed to get down the back of their necks...and how often my brother seemed to make that happen. Christmas afternoon
when the cousins would go to a movie and the adults would play bridge. Ping-pong and pool in the basement and the sound of the ball hitting the floor
and grandfather's feet hitting the steps to come put the balls up and lock the cabinet. Love... Christmas means love to me.....getting it and giving it.
......Submitted by Zanna 12/11....
Christmas means to me: Fun, Laughter and Love, with our family all around us.
Memories of Christmas:
Poking into packages, giving this box a nudge, that one a shake... The year Santa numbered our presents instead of putting our names on them, so we wouldn't know which boxes were ours until everyone was awake Christmas morning. Recycling boxes... getting a present in a box, then opening it to find something very different inside (Item may vary from illustration! By a whole lot! lol).
Making cookies - Mexican Wedding Cakes, Sugar cookies and Spritz.
Wondering where Mom had hidden the presents she'd bought this year, and hoping she REMEMBERED where, lol! (We joke about whose present she will "lose" this year. I once got a Christmas present in March....she does find them - eventually! lol)
The year my sister got our baby brother up at 4 am to and let him open ALL his presents, because she knew she wasn't allowed to touch her own. We could open stockings as soon as it was light outside, but had to eat breakfast together before we could open presents.
Saving the packages from Gram and Pop and our NM relatives to open last of all.
The "Family Game" - I can't remember when it began, but for every year since I can remember we have had a family present - some type of game to play together. Trivia, jenga, upwords, Oodles, Password, a card game, just something for us to play while we enjoy being together. Then after we had finished our Holiday meal, that's the first thing we do... sit down together and play.
The year everyone decided to "pass along" their stocking potato (the bigger it is the worse you've been) so that my very newlywedded husband ended up with a stocking FULL of potatoes! (He was not amused). And the year mom had a friend at the grocery store keep an eye out for a HUGE potato for Daddy... it must have weighed 5 pounds!
Christmas music, carols and the Charlie Brown Christmas Special and the Nutcracker Ballet.
Reading the Christmas Scripture on Christmas Eve by candlelight, with everyone holding candles for those who weren't able to be with us.
Looking at the ornaments on the tree and playing "do you remember where/when we got that one?".
Laughing, loving and enjoying being together. The way families should be as
often as they can be.
......Submitted by nzdonna (12/16).....
Christmas preparations started many weeks beforehand with the making of the Christmas cake and Christmas pudding. The cake was iced, with marzipan under the top layer and then it was decorated, with a Santa dressed in his warm outfit...not really fitting our summer weather, but we didn't even think of that when we were young. The pudding was a family affair, everyone having their turn at making a wish while stirring it. Christmas was a time of the possibility of dreams becoming fulfilled. The coins were the last ingrediant,each child watching to see if they might know which piece to ask for on Christmas day. After cooking, the pudding was hung to dry before being stored, the aroma wafting through the house, wonderful!
A few days before Christmas was the time to make forcer biscuits, though this isn't an accurate name for them as some were molded by hand. A variety of shapes from the same mixture, but how different they all tasted. Some were rolled, flattened and had jam in the middle, others were hiding dates in the centre, there were flower shapes and some were iced together. These were carefully boxed and given to close neighbours, after a our own biscuit tin was filled. Christmas, when one very busy mother took the time to make something special for those around her. Oh, how I miss those special treats, nobody makes them as my mother did.
Christmas Eve.....dallying before bed with the threats that Santa won't come, finally giving in to sleep, after laying a clean empty pillow case on the end of the bed, wondering how full it would be in the morning.
Morning arrived with presents opened amid great excitment. Lunch was then prepared. Mum did the bulk of the work,the kids helped? in shelling the peas. There were never as many as there should have been due to the consumption of them during the shelling process. A traditional English style, roast meats, new potatoes and peas from the garden, the pumpkin and kumera, roasted to perfection, the ham...sitting in all it's glory, glazed and decorated. Christmas was the only time of the year that we had a whole ham, it truly was a special time.
The heat in the kitchen would get almost unbearable! A hot summer's day and the oven had been on for hours. Desserts were both hot and cold, jelly, strawberries, pavlova and ice cream along with the "money pudding" with custard. Mum usually was very accurate in her cutting of the pudding, ensuring that each child got at least one coin, but one year something went wrong. One brother had 7 helpings trying to get his share of the loot. We all watched, waiting for him to head for the bathroom, but he battled on, all for the sake of sixpence!
Many years have passed since those days and we have moved onto a more appropriate menu for Christmas day. The pudding survived the change though, Christmas dinner would not be the same without it.
After lunch was siesta time for the adults, who could blame them with the heavy lunch that had been consumed in the height of summer?? The children would allow the adults to have a short nap while we played outside. We took advantage of the lack of adults to turn the hose on and thoroughly soak each other. Lots of laughter with the odd scream if someone's present had got wet.
Home was open house through the late afternoon and evening, dinner was better suited to the climate. The leftover meats were now cold and served with salads. The remains of the pudding where checked, each of us trying to guess if it was worth taking the chance of finding another coin. When young, we ate the pudding for the money, now we eat it for the liking of it.
Christmas for me is the sharing, of food, of laughter, of dreams and of
love....may it never change.
......Submitted by DrMcCoy (12/18)......
Christmas - A tree, groaning with tinsel, baubles and flickering lights, the constant rattle of falling needles. Parcels underneath, tightly wrapped but rattling when shaken, what's inside? A Holly wreath on the door, garlands and streamers inside. To bed, with glances at the sky to see if Santa is on his way early. Awake at some un-godly hour then forbidden to go downstairs until Mum and Dad have had time to surface. Checking to see if it has snowed overnight (I remember it did once and we all cried with joy). Piles of gifts and paper, always someone else with something better. Kids outside on new bikes, wearing new coats and hats, walking their new dog.
Mum in the kitchen, pots and pans rattling, turkey sizzling, sprouts boiling. The table laden with Christmas crackers and all the crockery we can find, a magnificent bird being expertly carved by Dad, never as much meat as it looks. A huge portion of Christmas pud, in the vain hope that this year I might actually like it. All finished by 3 o'clock, in front of the telly to watch the Queen's speech then the James Bond movie, while Dad falls asleep. Buffet later on, cold turkey and quiche, Morecambe and Wise on the box and so to bed, fatter, happier and a little bit sad that it's all over for another year.
I'd like to send Christmas greetings to all the Quiddlers and wish you all a Happy and Prosperous New Year. Thanks to Darth for all the brain-ache, and to the friends I now have around the world - Rickibabe, NZdonnaUSA and everyone else.
Goodnight, and may your God go with you.
Time to leave in traditional T A chat style - leaps aboard a passing tree and Ho-Ho-Ho's into the gathering gloom
All The Best to You and Yours
Trevor (DrMcCoy)
......Submitted by Darth (12/18)....
I was the only child of a single parent, and my Mom had to work to support us...I guess we would be considered "poor" today, but I never knew it at the time.
Between the ages of 5 and 12 we lived in a little town in northern California called Grass Valley. My Mom moved us there after she divorced my Dad. Her sister lived there, and they were pretty close to each other.
Despite the circumstances my Mom always managed to have a Christmas tree and one very good present for me (in addition to the usual underwear and socks). I was an altar boy and had to serve Midnight Mass and we always opened our presents after Mass. For some reason Santa always managed to come while I was in Church...grinz.
The two Christmases that I have never forgot was the one where I got a Red Ryder BB gun and the one where I got a bicycle. I was the first kid in my gang to get a BB gun and I really felt "special." My Mom took me into the woods near our apartment and made me show her how to safely handle the gun before I was allowed to use it. She was way ahead of her time.
I was 11 the Christmas I got the bicycle and learning to ride was a big experience. Grass Valley was a gold mining town and was built on the side of a hill. There were very few "flat" streets, so learning to ride was mainly learning how to use the brakes. There were no such things as "training wheels" so you got on and did the best you could....my Mom was always waiting at home with iodine (OUCH!) for the scrapes.
I remember my Mom gave me the bike with the stipulation that I would use it on my paper route so I would get home earlier. I did, but it didn't cut much
time off my route as I had to push the bike up most of the hills. I remember my first month's earnings for my paper route was $11, which I spent on a new
football instead of clothes....
I was born at an early age, to parents who were both present, one in pain,
panting and sweating, the other giving birth. I was so ugly, the doctor
slapped my mother and tried to push me back in. I spent my kindergarten
years living with a travelling circus, performing many duties, some of
them legal. I was apprenticed to 'The Great Maldini', the world champion
Human cannonball. However, after the unfortunate low roof, fat lady and
low-cut dress incident, he was fired. The search for a worthy replacement
ended when I was found to be of the same calibre.
On returning to the bosom of my family, I attended a local school. On the
first day, I asked my mother how long I would be there. "Until you are 18"
she answered. "I'll need more shirts" I mumbled.
Schooldays were filled with traditional British activities, most of which
involved either cruelty to animals or dressing in women's clothes. On high
days and holidays, we were able to combine both.
My final day in school was memorable, not only for me, but also for the
fire service who put the blaze out quite quickly. My school career was
summed up by my closest advisor and mentor, Mr R Sole, who wrote in my
final report: 'Who?'
Adolescence was a blur of sex, drugs and rock and roll. All of which I
resisted manfully. I was aided in this abstention by my complexion, which
was used by NASA to test their lunar tracking systems. I had more puss
than cattery. Mount St Helens was a pale imitation.
My first job in the big, bad world was as a pheasant plucker's mate, which
I did when the pheasant plucker was late. I soon became a fully-fledged
pheasant plucker, plucking pheasants willy-nilly. I married at a tender
age, to a woman with straight hair and curly teeth, her mother was a
Liverpool man. She asked if I believed in sex before marriage. I answered
that it depended on what time the service was.
I also learned to drive. Aren't cars wonderful? Allowing people to easily
get to places they never bothered going before, and where they'd just as
soon not be now, because, now that they're there, there is nowhere to park.
I was happily married for 3 years. The marriage actually lasted 14. Then
she ran away with my best friend. 30 years I'd known that guy. I'll miss him.
I was lucky enough to take a trip to Africa. There, I met and befriended a
native tribe, widely known for their habit of collecting old Royal
furniture. In the gloomy depths of the jungle, deep within the
impenetrable forests, they had built a magnificent palace, entirely of
glass, in which they all lived. Inside the gleaming, glass building, was a
huge tower, made up of thousands of precariously stacked ancient royal
seats, glinting in the dappled light streaming through the crystal
windows. It was a stunning sight. Then, just before I left, there was a
terrible disaster. The entire tribe had gathered to celebrate the 100th
birthday of the Chief. They were singing and dancing when, suddenly,
without warning, the tower collapsed, chairs falling this way and that,
glass raining down, death and destruction, killing every man, woman and child.
Which only goes to show, people who live in glass houses, shouldn't stow
thrones.
So, here I sit, contemplating the rest of my life. It's amazing what you
think about when sitting on the toilet**.
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To the designers of clothing in this age of knowledge and intelligent thought:
Sirs..... (and I know you are male.....no woman would do this to herself) to you
I wish long living stinkwads that give horrid itches in unreachable places.
Clothing today costs a bundle of money. Sometimes you have to borrow your bundle
of money using a plastic card that has invisible strings attached ..... these strings have
been trained to stay out of the way until the user gets home ....then they wrap themselves
around the users neck.....but that is another story..... back to the clothing.
First, I would like to ask why my buttons fall off after they have been pushed twice into a
button hole which also self-destructs after two pushes? I think you did that button thing so
I wouldn't notice that my hem thread has forgotten its job and has wandered off to be
someone else's lint.
Secondly, I would ask why the color in my garment that was so bright and fresh in the
store only lasts through the first half of the first washing using the mildest soap and the
most gentle cycle on my washer and then proceeds to look like my husband's lucky
undershirt that gets washed with the dark clothes and is not well loved by me after
eight years of unsuccessfully trying to wash it to nothingness?
And Sir, can you tell me why buttons fall off and roll away never to be seen again with
just the normal walking movement of a well endowed woman....but the neck label
can't be blasted off with anything less than a swat team???
And please Sir, notice the hole at the back side of the neck in that undershirt? That is
where my husband pulled that killer label out.... recklessly, with his bare hand. I would
thank you for changing the plastic thread to fabric thread if I thought you did that for
my comfort. But I have decided anyone who would design clothing with a "pain insert"
wouldn't have changed thread for my comfort anyway.
And, yes, the fabric thread that is backspaced 74 times to ensure the knot is forever, turns
up the edges of the label to scratch, torment and cause me more stress than PMS, works
just as you planned.
Sirs, and I do not remember your names because you are "label dead" to me.... the only
reason I am not boycotting your clothing is because I CAN'T FIND ANY CLOTHES
WITHOUT THE KILLER LABELS!!!!
(but just you wait.....your daughters have to grow up sometime.... my prayer is that
they use the liquid starch liberally when washing your underwear load)
*****************************************************************************************************
Doc
NOTE: For all those who asked: You can email the author at......DrMcCoy