Best childhood Christmas Memories: Picking out our tree from the LA train station - fresh from the farms to the city. Take out from China Town. My first Kodak Camera.
Growing up I was blessed to live next door to my maternal grandparents. They had in fact built the house we lived in from two garage kits, sort of half stacked on one another and expanded to make a little two story house. The second story was at street level, and downstairs was the living room and two bedrooms. The living room walls were big beautiful squares of oiled wood, maybe 14" squares? and the ceiling was made of long skinny slats running the length of the room. All along one side of the ceiling was a dropped light box also made of wood. The lights inside that box made the coziest glow of indirect lighting. At one end of the room was a built in desk with shelves reaching to the ceiling, and I don't even have to close my eyes to remember the top shelf covered in trophies; sailing, tennis, bowling.
In the corner by the desk is where the Christmas tree would go up each year, and my favorite part was always hanging the silver strands of tinsel. I'm not OCD by a long shot, but getting the tinsel hung right was important to me, and the resulting shimmer just magical. On Christmas Eve we didn't open presents, but there would be new pajamas and all the anticipation any child could hold for the morning. From the living room leading up to the kitchen was a set of beautiful wooden stairs, and from the edges of these we would hang our Christmas hats. We never had stockings, but pretty flannel hats with white yarn snowballs sewn on to the ends. And they would be hung by age, with mine in the middle, my brother's a step up and my sister's a step down.
I can remember so clearly sitting on the couch and pulling out fruit and pennies and chocolate coins from out hats. And always a small present, something special. For years I continued this tradition with my own children, making the Christmas hats and hanging them from our mantle, and making sure there were chocolate coins in them and a special present of some kind. As boyfriends and girlfriends came and went they would be made a stocking too, and then finally I made one for my granddaughter. But my daughter made her own traditions once she started her family, and now that we live together we will be hanging stockings on the mantle while the hats continue to rest, packed away in the garage. It makes me a little sad to realize I've never made one for my grandson, and if we ever live apart I will be sure to do that for when they come to visit.
But at my house growing up, Christmas didn't end with opening presents from under the tree. Because then came the anticipation of walking next door and doing it all over again with Mommer and Podder, my Mom's parents. We were so spoiled, and I think we knew it but didn't really appreciate how lucky we were.
Mommer would let us help in the kitchen, and we all had our share of the large bowl of guacamole and Ritz crackers that she would put out. Another tradition that has carried through to each of my holiday seasons, even thought I am missing the avocado tree they had in our back yard. Podder was a photographer, and so there were always pictures and everything decorated so prettily. But the best part of that was his darkroom in the top floor of their house. Mysterious and smelling of chemicals it would be a safe haven for me on and off over the years, whether bugging him to let me help with whatever he was working on, or later working on my own school projects. I think we all loved being up there, and somehow he found time to make each of us feel special.
Then the trek across town to Grandma and Grandpa's house, my Dad's parents. A big pink stucco affair in the hills above Universal Studios, we would embark on our third round of opening presents. They had a wonderful living room that had two steps leading up into the dining room; the perfect perch for a child or two or three. Grandma would let us look through her jewelry, and Grandpa would let us climb up on his lap in his recliner to watch tv with him. He always smelled like cigars, and I choose to forget the part about him dying of cancer because of it when we were in high school.
I guess watching so many Hallmark movies has made me think of all this, and how blessed I was to have been so happy in my childhood. And given the way it all changed for me later, it doesn't diminish the earlier happier years - those I will always treasure. And tonight I am feeling grateful for the grandparents who loved me, and cared for me, and nurtured me. Because today I was reminded that many of us don't get to grow up that way, and my heart goes out to every little child who didn't get to know the love of a grandparent.
We are looking forward to the holidays, and pulling out the Dicken's Christmas Village to make the house festive. And my hope is that the magic of Christmas is alive and well in all of us this year.
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