Christmases Past

A few of these short tales have been published before. Never as a single read, but published, nonetheless. I’ll be pushing the “post” button on my second Christmas Eve without Ruth. I feel like looking back because of the memories. While she’s not a part of each of these stories, she’s a part of the people. She touched us all.

One of my earliest memories of Christmas as a child was going “clothes” shopping with my dad. He bought Mom “an outfit” most Christmases. He’d go to the woman’s department of J.L. Hudson, Winkelman’s, Federal’s or a fancy ladies’ shop. I don’t recall any of the outfits, and wouldn’t remember the trips themselves, if he hadn’t purchased nylons. He always bought three pairs, and the sales ladies that helped him ran their hands inside the stockings so Dad could see the colors. They took on a different hue when shown against a lady’s skin.

On Christmas Eve of 1958 or 59 our family drove to Mt. Clemens to visit my Grandma Tebo. We loaded into the family car for the trip after dinner, and as we were pulling out of the driveway, my mom stopped my dad with the words, “Wait Tony, I’ve forgotten something.”

She got out of the car and went back into the house. Our delay was short, and soon we were on our way. As we headed north on Stephenson Highway, we saw Santa Claus driving a car headed south. Mom made the initial sighting, and sure enough, it was him. There was no snow on the ground so Mom speculated that he must be driving a car to make his local deliveries. Made sense.

Our visit lasted about an hour, and we went directly home. There were no stops for anything else. We entered our house through the front door and to everyone’s surprise Santa had come while we were away. I was the first to speak. “Let’s get to bed.”

Sharron and Jackie protested. “Let’s open our presents!”

“No.”, I fired back. “It’s not Christmas. Let’s open our gifts in the morning.”

The two girls begged Mom and Dad, and faster than you can say “lickety split” my parents gave into the girls. We opened our gifts and were in bed by midnight. The following morning – Christmas morning – there was nothing to do. It had all been done the night before. While the rest of the world was enjoying the excitement of opening their Christmas gifts, the joy was gone at our house. It was just another day. Our tradition of opening gifts on Christmas morning had been thrown out like yesterday’s trash because of my two over-anxious siblings. Poof.

Of all the childhood Christmases that I shared with Sharron and Jackie, that Christmas holds a solid place in my memory bank. While I remember favorite gifts, gatherings at my grandparents’ home, and other bits and pieces, I don’t recall any Christmas in our childhood family home except that one. Perhaps that’s why Christmas turned out that way that year – so it would be remembered.

During one of our first Christmas seasons as a married couple, Ruth and I went to Florida for Christmas break. We visited my grandparents who were living in New Port Ritchie.

I was considering adding photography to my list of hobbies. One of our fellow teacher’s husband, Walt, taught photography in a neighboring school. When he heard of my interest, he offered to supply me with a camera and a couple of lenses to take on our Florida trip. He suggested that I take black and white pictures because when we returned, he could help me develop them. We spoke briefly about film speed and F/stops. “Black and white film is easier to develop, and you can be more creative.”

I took him up on his offer. I took several pictures of pelicans, seagulls, sea grass, boardwalks and piers. Most turned out fine, but I knew that I should “stick to my day job”. I was proud of my work, but my critical eye told me that others could do better.

I also took two pictures of Ruth. I think these shots were my best work. That was a great Christmas.

When the kids were still at home, we often went out to purchase our tree together. We chopped a few of our own, but more often than not, chose our trees from local Christmas tree farms. Ruth was very particular about each tree that she chose. Few were perfect. Most were misfits, and as Michael remembers his mom saying, “even ugly trees need homes” because “they are all pretty when they are decorated.”

One tree was never enough. There were several years when each room in our house had its own tree: four bedrooms, a living room, our entry room, family room, kitchen, our screened porch, and at least one bathroom. We couldn’t have too many.

They were decorated with themes. Elizabeth had angels, the boys’ bears and clowns, some with only white lights, some red, some multicolored – all by design. Some were covered in beautiful ribbons, others lights only. We had one tree with sterling silver bells that Ruth’s mom bought for Elizabeth each year and that Ruth continued to purchase after her mom was gone. Nothing was left to chance. Even the neediest tree stood tall and beautiful in our home.

As the kids got older, we made it a practice to attend the Children’s Mass at St. Rita’s on Christmas Eve. The children of the parishioners performed as a narrator read the Christmas story. There were wise men, shepherds, Mary and Joseph, animals, and a real live baby Jesus. One of our friends, Jan Koberstein, taught religious classes at the church and helped with the play. That’s why we went.

I think it was Elizabeth’s eighth grade year that she made her first communion as a part of the mass. She never attended catechism to learn the teachings of the church, but she did sit with a friend, Bridget, and her family that evening. They all had, so when they got up to receive the sacrament, Elizabeth did too.

After mass Ken and Jan Koberstein, and sometimes their kids, accompanied by Ruth and I and our three, ate Chinese food as they were the only restaurants open on Christmas Eve. Last Christmas Eve, Jan died. She followed Ruth in September and Ken in November. They left me behind to write the story.

This Christmas Eve, while you are reading this, I’ll be sitting on a beach near Dana Point, California. I’ll be joined by David, Lindsay, Brady, Eva, Elizabeth, Sutton, Michael, Kate, and Young Jackson James. Ruth’s sister, Kathy, will be with us too. As the sun sets, we’ll offer up a toast to Ruth. And although she won’t be seen, she’ll be there too.