It is that most
wonderful time of year again, if you love Christmas as much as I do. I’ve loved
it as long and as far back as I can remember. I confess to being one of “those”
adults who still believes in Santa Claus, it isn’t Santa as much as the good will,
the magic, the anticipation, and the knowledge that a newborn baby came to
bring us all we could ever truly need or want. It’s the love. Not the hub-bub
and gifts, though I do love giving and receiving gifts as much as the next
person.
Christmas is a time
of reflection. It’s the quiet time. A time of waiting as Simeon waited his
entire life to hold “the newborn king”. The story of Simeon is one of my
favorite biblical Christmas stories. We all have our Christmas favorites—food,
songs, memories, gifts, ornaments. What is your favorite Christmas Carol? Mine
is Silver Bells, read my memory below
to learn why.
When I was 11 years old my mother dressed my brother
and me up to go to town for the annual parade complete with the appearance of
Santa, shopping, and cheeseburgers with fountain cokes at City Café. I wore a
red and green plaid taffeta dress with a red bow on the left hip. Plus, several itchy petticoats. That dress
made me feel like a million bucks and so very pretty.
Mama gave my brother, John, and me five dollars each
to purchase gifts for our family. We lived in Levelland, Texas, a small, dusty,
oil-field town that became a wonderland at Christmas. The old-fashioned court
house square was hung with white lights, greenery, and bells. Each store had
its own decorations and multiple strings of lights. The Main Street light posts
had silver bells arching over them.
Mama made us go into the stinky, old department
store first to help her choose a gift for Daddy. The floors were scuffed and
they creaked with every step, merchandise was crowded together, and the musty
odor made my nose itch. We finally found a blue shirt and socks for Daddy, then
Mama marched us to the creepy shoe department in the back corner to have our
feet measured. I drug my feet and whined knowing full well that the seemingly
300 foot tall grizzly bear with obsidian eyes, dusty fur worn off on its back
paws and chest where people had touched it year after year, and yellow claws
would tower over me. I was afraid it would topple over on me. Or, worse, come
to life.
The clerk measured my feet first and with Mama’s
permission I rushed away to wait at the front of the store. I stumbled onto a
large and deep box covered in red paper sitting next to the door. How had I not
seen it before? It was full, really full, of stuffed animals. I dug through it
as happy as I could be. A small, reclining tiger kept making its way to my
hands and heart.
I begged Mama for it, but she said no and rushed us
out to shop at Ben Franklin, the 5 and 10 store wonder. My five dollars started
making my hand sweat. John and I were sent our separate ways to find gifts for
Mama, Daddy, and each other.
I never wasted time shopping. My gifts were never
very creative, but John’s were. He spent time thinking and figuring out just
what would be the best gift. I quickly found handkerchiefs for Daddy. Three
sparkling white handkerchiefs in a small, long, flat box with a clear cover and
a gold string tied in a bow to keep it closed. Mama almost always got a small
cobalt blue bottle of Evening in Paris perfume. And, probably a car or truck
for John.
The thing is, I had some change. I was supposed to
save my change. But, I just had to have a quarter pound of hot, roasted redskin
peanuts in the tiny paper bag. The best treat ever! I did get in trouble for
not saving my change. Sort of. Mama started to get on to me, but stopped,
saying “it’s Christmas.”
We hurried through the cold mist for a warm lunch.
As we left to watch the parade it began sleeting. The gray sky didn’t dampen
our spirits because the parade was set to begin any moment. The gloomy gray
actually made the lights seem brighter and more colorful. We watched from the
car and waved from lowered windows as veterans with flags, horses, marching
bands, twirlers, cheerleaders, floats, and, finally, Santa on the fire truck
passed by.
Then . . . Magic . . . The court house bells pealed
out the melody of Silver Bells and a
choir on the court house steps sang. “City sidewalks, busy sidewalks . . .”
And, that memorable day with my mother and brother
made Silver Bells my favorite carol.
By the way, John and I got new shoes for Christmas
and I got that little tiger.
Hope you enjoyed today's post and that you'll drop by often. Be sure and sign up to receive my newsletter and visit my website.
Until next time, Journey Onward!
Nona 
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