Christmas Past, Long Past

Like every other kid in Wisconsin, I'd already worn out the pages of the new Sears Christmas catalog, trying to decide which of the many wonderful Christmas gifts would be mine. There were board games, dolls, trains, inflatable punching bags, sleds, etc. But when I saw the skates, I stopped looking and started wishing. New figure skates were the only thing I wanted for Christmas - beautiful white, insulated figure skates.

If I only had figure skates, I could stop wearing those stupid buckle-on two-blade skates that clipped onto my boots (and often fell off) when the neighbor kids and I would meet at the low spot in the field that always had just enough ice to help us imagine that it was a skating rink.

Christmas Eve arrived. My aunt and uncle and cousin were there. I can't remember if my grandma and grandpa were there or not, but if they were, then the dinner consisted of oyster stew (yech!) my grandpa's favorite, jello salad (or maybe a lettuce leaf with a half pear on top and a scoop of cottage cheese placed in the center), and Christmas cookies. There was most likely a hotdish as well, for I'm pretty sure I wasn't the only one who refused to eat oyster stew.

The Jungers oil burner kept us fairly warm in our old and drafty house, but that night nothing mattered much except getting dinner over and washing the dishes so we could get on to the presents part! That was the protocol - no presents until the dishes were done! My mom and aunt donned their chiffon Christmas aprons and cheerfully began the washing up. It seemed like it took forever! What we kids did during that long interval was to inspect each package under the tree, trying to guess what was in it. I knew my skates were there somewhere, for I'd left unmistakable hints for my mom and dad that skates were the only acceptable gift.

My parents had a nice living room with modern fiberglass drapes and a Christmas tree with big Christmas lights - orange, blue, red, and green - and real tinsel, the kind you could wad up into a tiny metal ball if you wanted to. And of course we wanted to! But our mom insisted that we carefully remove each piece after Christmas and place it back onto the cardboard holder to use another year.

Eventually the women came into the living room and someone was assigned the role of Santa, the one who would hand out presents to the eager recipients.

We didn't open presents one by one, carefully unwrapping the paper and savoring the moment, but each kid had their pile of gifts in front of him or her and started frantically ripping off the paper. We didn't notice much what was happening with anyone else.  I opened one box. It was a new flannel nightie. I got a new flannel nightie every year. My mom sewed them for my sister and me. They were soft and warm, but by the end of the night, a nightie would be wrapped around my neck and the rest of me would be freezing. I hated those things! When I think of all the work my mom went to, to make such a lovely and unappreciated gift...!

I know there were other gifts as well, but all I could think of was the pair of skates that were not among my gifts. I looked around the room. My brothers had opened their gifts; my sister had opened her gifts. The parents and aunt and uncle and cousin had opened their gifts, and there were no more gifts under the tree.  I couldn't hide my disappointment. How could everyone else be having such a great time when I was sitting there suffering???

We drank punch out of beautiful crystal goblets and ate peanut brittle and desserts, and then the company went out into the snowy evening to go back home. By now it was pretty late, so it was time to go to bed.

Just then, I saw my brother whisper something to my mom. She clapped her hands over her mouth and ran upstairs. When she returned, she had a big box that she had retrieved from under her bed. Even before she handed it to me, I knew what it was. My skates. My beautiful white insulated skates. My new figure skates that were 2 sizes too big, for my mom knew I'd grow into them...eventually...by the time I was 18.

But it didn't matter. Not a bit! I was the happiest kid in the world.

P.S. I even liked my brother a bit better after that night. ;-)

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Do you have a memory of a special Christmas gift?  or a memory of a disappointing Christmas gift? C'mon, share it with us! :-)

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