Well, as we enter Thanksgiving week I'll try my best to maintain that thankful attitude that I've been working on this month. But the joy for me will come when the Christmas season is officially here. I've loved Christmas since I was kid. My earliest memories of Christmas involved my younger brother and sister coming to the bedroom I shared with my older brother. We would wake up Christmas morning to find our stockings sitting outside our bedroom doors...always with an orange in the bottom...and that hard tack ribbon candy that would get red felt stuck all over it. We would go through our stockings and open whatever gift was included as a stocking stuffer. Then we'd wait until mom & dad woke up. Sometimes we would argue over who had to go in to their bedrooms to wake them up if it was taking them too long. In that house the living room, where the Christmas tree was always set up, was at other end of the hallway from all our bedrooms. There would be a sheet up over the entry to the living room so we couldn't see what presents were there. Then dad would go in to the living room, turn on the lights on the tree and remove the sheet (or one year it was a cardboard box that had held the air hockeye table that we received that year). Then, and only then, were we allowed to enter the living room and start opening presents.
After opening presents and playing for a little while, we would all get ready and head down to Guernsey County. We would head down to the grandparents' to celebrate Christmas there. First stop was always the Burkhardt grandparents to drop off gifts and food. Then we would head to the Lyon grandparents. In our younger years Santa would stop by on Christmas Day. I remember the day we found the Santa suit in my grandparents' basement and realized that John, a boarder who lived there for several years, was "Santa".
After opening presents at the Lyon grandparents and having an early Christmas dinner, we would head back to the Burkhardt grandparents. Now my mother is an only child, so Christmas at the Lyon grandparents meant we were the only ones there. My dad is the oldest of six, so Christmas at the Burkhardt grandparents meant the house was full of family. Both situations were special for their own unique reasons.
At the Burkhardt grandparents we could count on a few things...rocks, anise cookies and sugar cookies. Now when I say rocks, I'm not talking about the kind that made up the driveway to the house, I'm talking about a family recipe. A spiced Christmas cookie that I'm assuming had been passed down for at least a few generations. They're made in muffin tins and contain a lot of different spices, walnuts, and originally dates (although most of the family started leaving out the dates several years ago). I can tell you this about rocks...they last. I've only missed being home for Christmas once, when I was stationed in Germany in 1986. That year my mom sent me a care package with some rocks in it. Only after I had eaten them was I told that the rocks she sent were left over from the previous Christmas. It didn't matter, they tasted GREAT!
We would usually end up getting home pretty late in the evening (or maybe it was just because it got dark so early that it SEEMED late). But it always made for a full day.
But it wasn't just Christmas day that was full...the whole season was full of memories that made me love the season. Decorating the yard was always fun. Dad had made a huge wreath out of some styrophome and garland. He would hang it on the front of the house and have a spotlight in the yard shining on the wreath. Plastic bread bags sealed with nylon ties would cover the plugs to keep them from getting wet. My older brother and I would climb up on the roof to run a string of lights across the top because dad, although he was ok climbing a ladder, was not ok with getting on the roof (or actually I think he was not ok with trying to get back on the ladder if he had to get on the roof). So, since dad was never a big fan of heights, Kevin and I would get to climb up on the roof to string the lights.
I'll talk more about Christmas memories over the next few weeks. I love the season!
After opening presents and playing for a little while, we would all get ready and head down to Guernsey County. We would head down to the grandparents' to celebrate Christmas there. First stop was always the Burkhardt grandparents to drop off gifts and food. Then we would head to the Lyon grandparents. In our younger years Santa would stop by on Christmas Day. I remember the day we found the Santa suit in my grandparents' basement and realized that John, a boarder who lived there for several years, was "Santa".
After opening presents at the Lyon grandparents and having an early Christmas dinner, we would head back to the Burkhardt grandparents. Now my mother is an only child, so Christmas at the Lyon grandparents meant we were the only ones there. My dad is the oldest of six, so Christmas at the Burkhardt grandparents meant the house was full of family. Both situations were special for their own unique reasons.
At the Burkhardt grandparents we could count on a few things...rocks, anise cookies and sugar cookies. Now when I say rocks, I'm not talking about the kind that made up the driveway to the house, I'm talking about a family recipe. A spiced Christmas cookie that I'm assuming had been passed down for at least a few generations. They're made in muffin tins and contain a lot of different spices, walnuts, and originally dates (although most of the family started leaving out the dates several years ago). I can tell you this about rocks...they last. I've only missed being home for Christmas once, when I was stationed in Germany in 1986. That year my mom sent me a care package with some rocks in it. Only after I had eaten them was I told that the rocks she sent were left over from the previous Christmas. It didn't matter, they tasted GREAT!
We would usually end up getting home pretty late in the evening (or maybe it was just because it got dark so early that it SEEMED late). But it always made for a full day.
But it wasn't just Christmas day that was full...the whole season was full of memories that made me love the season. Decorating the yard was always fun. Dad had made a huge wreath out of some styrophome and garland. He would hang it on the front of the house and have a spotlight in the yard shining on the wreath. Plastic bread bags sealed with nylon ties would cover the plugs to keep them from getting wet. My older brother and I would climb up on the roof to run a string of lights across the top because dad, although he was ok climbing a ladder, was not ok with getting on the roof (or actually I think he was not ok with trying to get back on the ladder if he had to get on the roof). So, since dad was never a big fan of heights, Kevin and I would get to climb up on the roof to string the lights.
I'll talk more about Christmas memories over the next few weeks. I love the season!
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