57 "It Was a Special Christmas to Me"

A Special Christmas to Me

Everyone I have talked to in recent years agree with me that Christmas has become so commercialized that it really isn’t fun anymore. When the holiday does finally come around it feels more like a chore than a joy.

I can remember when we would have Halloween and look forward to Thanksgiving. And one of the biggest joys was to see the faces of the children when it was time for Santa Clause to make his first appearance the day after Thanksgiving in the stores, shopping centers and malls. It seems that tradition has been replaced by “Black Fridays” and the trampling of people. That first day that everyone seems to forget all about the real joys of the holidays. There is no holiday spirit, just the fact that everyone has to be first in the door, no matter what the cost or danger to others. This gets worse every year. Open the stores earlier and get more people in the doors. The whole thing adds up to Greed. (But, that’s another story I am working on.)

Now days you can start seeing Santa Clause for pictures in the malls as early as the day after Halloween. Christmas decorations are in the stores for sale almost all year. All so someone can make more money.

Well, I am going to tell a little story about what Christmas really is, at least to me.

Christmas is the making of real memories, not about how much money you can spend on someone, or what kind of good deals you can get. Nor is it about how big or expensive of a gift you may get.

It is about what you leave in a person’s heart and in their memories.

My favorite Christmas story;

My dad and mom were divorced before I was five years old. My mom married a very special man that treated my 2 sisters and me as if we were his children.

Anyway, this story happened when I was about 6 years old. My 2 sisters were 5 and 7 years older than me.

We never really had a lot in those days, except a happy family. At this time we were living in Wray, Colorado. We were living in a house that was at the end of a road at the bottom of a slight hill. There was a field on the opposite side of the house with a forest and a creek also.

The house wasn’t big. I remember it being brown with a peaked roof. There was a front yard and a small parking area in front with a small driveway down one side.

Now that you have a bit of a layout of the scene, I will proceed to tell about my most memorable Christmas as a child.

For two days before Christmas Eve there had been a steady snow fall, not deep, just a good covering. On Christmas Eve Farrell, our step-father, decided he was taking us all out to dinner. I don’t remember where we went or what we had. What I do remember is what happened later that evening.

As we drove home Farrell had my mom, my sisters and me singing Christmas Carols with him. He was really in the Christmas spirit for some reason. For the record, my mom had a beautiful voice. As we turned on to our street and going down the slight hill, we turned to go into the driveway and all I remember were my eyes opening wide and it being hard to catch my breath.

That night the moon was bright and almost glowing in the moonlight as though it was planned, on the roof of the house was the most amazing sight of my young life.

There in the glow of the moon, on the roof, were what appeared to be sleigh and reindeer tracks.

How he ever did that or arranged that I will never know or be able to ask him. He disappeared from our lives when I was about 13 years old. My half brother was able to find him a few years ago and about a year later he passed away. But that is another story.

What I was getting at in this story is the fact that some of the simplest deeds can leave some of the strongest memories. This one has stayed with me for 58 years and it has to be one of my best Christmas’ ever, if not the best.

Why can’t we just go back to the real meaning of Christmas?

Greg