Blogger: Janet Kobobel Grant
Location: Books & Such main office, Santa Rosa, Calif.
During December last year the Books & Such staff revealed in our blog posts the personal side of our lives by giving you a peek into how we celebrate Christmas. In that same spirit, this December we’ll each write about our Christmas remembrances. During this nostalgic time of the year, please join us in recalling some of your favorite Holiday memories.
This week, we’ll each revisit a favorite toy we received at Christmas. I’ll kick off the conversation by writing about what I considered the perfect present: a doll. But it’s not the doll I love so much as the memory of my father teasing me over that gift.
You see, I was six and missing two very important items–my front teeth. I was fascinated by the big (by my petite standards) box under the tree with my name on it. I just knew something marvelous awaited me in that box. I asked over and over again, “What’s in the present?”
My father always responded with the same answer: “Your two front teeth.” Then he’d whistle, “All I Want for Christmas Is My Two Front Teeth.”
I thought that was very funny, since if that box contained teeth, I was in serious trouble trying to prod them into my mouth. Clearly I was unaware that I really did need a visit from the tooth fairy more than from Santa Claus. The “repartee” my father and I engaged in was great fun for me because it involved the wonderful anticipation of opening that package, the love of a dad who was enjoying his little girl, and the delight of a season filled with surprises.
I was blissful when I tore off the wrapping. The box contained a lovely doll wearing a yellow and pink chiffon-type of dress and matching bonnet. She had a beautiful china face and was the size of a real baby. I loved her as soon as I saw her and cradled her in my arms.
Through the years, I replayed the give-and-take with my dad over the Christmas baby. And I kept that doll, never parting with her as most of my other toys were given away. As a matter of fact, she’s still in my mother’s house, carefully packed up along with the memories of the happy innocence of childhood.
Do you recall a Christmas gift that you associate with a warm memory of one of your parents?
When I was six I received a shiny red bicycle with training wheels. My Dad promised to help me ride it right after breakfast, but I just couldn’t wait. While he dressed, I wheeled it out the front door to our driveway. We lived at the top of a hill. The house at the bottom of the hill featured a lovely cactus garden in their front yard. Can you guess the rest? I’ll give you a hint: I spent much of Christmas Day lying on my stomach. 😉
Ouch Lynn, that sounds painful. My sister had a cactus incident one year too. Not fun.
What a wonderful post, Janet. Thanks for sharing something special about your life. As for me, Christmas 1982 will remain vivid in my memory. My mother died on December 18th of that year. She had been in the hospital since Thanksgiving morning, and we knew she wasn’t coming home again.
Our parents never had much money, but Christmas was the one time of year they did their best to make everything special. I remember many wonderful gifts, but in 1982, I unwrapped a hair dryer that included a note written by my father. He said this present was the one my mother wanted to make sure I received most, because I was growing up and would need it.
My father wasn’t a man of many words, and writing cards or letters wasn’t his thing. With his short note, he was able to add a bit of joy into a young girl’s life on what could have been the worst Christmas ever.
I look forward to more of this month’s posts.
Lynn, well, your Christmas was memorable…
Cheryl, that’s a sweet memory, and has both your mother and your dad wrapped up in it.
Janet,I also remember a special doll. She was propped up against my brother’s new bike, and I was thrilled. My aunt convinced me to leave the doll with her for a week. By New Year’s, my Nancy had an entire wardrobe: coat and hat, pink pajamas and a robe, skirt and blouse, and a beautiful yellow evening dress with a lace overskirt. Auntie and Grandma must have sewn non-stop. Nancy now occupies a place of honor on my bookshelf, sitting in a chair crafted by my son in middle-school workshop.
Twenty years later, my mother confessed that she and Daddy felt terrible that year, because the only way they could afford the bike was to cut back on my present. It was my best present ever.
Janet, your story made me smile. I love reading snippets of life like that.
Cheryl, your comment brought a tear to my eye. How sweet of your father–and I’m sure it must have been a terrible time for you all.
One of my favorite gifts was a big, red, stuffed dog. I just loved that dog! But the main reason I loved it was because my mom made it for me. Homemade gifts made me feel special then, and they still do now. 🙂
When I was in grade school, I had a black teacher who I adored, named Mrs. White. My uncle always teased me – and would ask me how Mrs. Black was. We had several run-around conversations similar to ‘Who’s on first…” lol
When asked what I wanted for Christmas, I requested (as usual) baby dolls. My uncle bought me a Mrs. Beasley doll and a black baby doll I named Mrs. White. I had never seen a black doll before then and loved her as dearly as my beloved teacher.
Although my uncle may have been somewhat prejudiced, I wasn’t. Without ever realizing it, he blessed me more than he’d ever know with my Mrs. White baby. 😉
These memories are all so sweet–and good reminders that it isn’t how much is paid for a gift that counts but the heart from which it’s given.
I have lots of good Christmas memories. In the proper British tradition, since both sides of the family were relatively recent immigrants, our decoration and celebration started later than most of the families around us.
About three weeks before Christmas we bought our Christmas tree. Dad took us kids and we walked—yes walked—the half block to Reservoir Avenue then three or four blocks south to where Christmas tree lots had sprung up in every available space between businesses. Mom stayed home because her health did not permit her to walk that much, and began making Christmas cookies.
The tradition was each family member helped equally to pay for the Christmas tree. Dad, Mom, and three kids each chipped in 20 cents. At the tree lots we went to the back and could always find a tree for a dollar. It would be bigger than we could reasonably use in the house, but it wouldn’t be as pretty or as full as the rich folks bought at the front of the lots. Dad paid for the tree in dimes, and the four of us carried it home on foot, some times having to carry it across the four-lane road. Dad put it in the garage in a bucket of water. A week before Christmas he brought it to the basement “to get acclimated to being indoors”, and trimmed it as necessary to fit vertically and horizontally. About that time the candles went up in the windows.
He brought upstairs on Christmas Eve and we all helped decorate it, Mom as much as she could with her disabilities. Bubbly lights, big round lights, smaller lights. The ornament spire with the broken bottom slipped over the top branch. The lighted snowman and Santa Claus at the bottom. Lots of glass ornaments, “icicles”, and tinsel.
I remember the year when we went to the tree lot and they had no trees for less than $1.25. Dad threatened we wouldn’t have a tree that year. He bargained with the attendant like he was buying a used car. In the end he paid the inflated price, but made each of us chip in an extra nickel to cover the cost.
David, thanks for sharing those vivid Christmas remembrances. Last year my son-in-law discovered Ace Hardware was selling bubble lights and bought numerous packages. Obviously it was his childhood Christmas in a package.
Every Christmas when my siblings and I were young, our whole family would pile into the car to deliver piping hot sticky buns to friends and family. Returning home to our own gooey plate of sticky-bun-goodness was all the more sweet for having “endured” close proximity with those gift deliveries first. What a wonderful lesson for us it was in the joy of giving, for we didn’t even touch those taunting paper packages under the tree until well after this morning ritual! Now, my own little family carries on the tradition by delivering sticky buns to a local ministry that has a very special place in our hearts.
http://www.simplerevelationsbyamanda.blogspot.com
http://www.quirkygrammar.blogspot.com