One cold Christmas Eve, mom, daddy and I bundled up and travelled to Dublin for a last-minute shopping trip. Actually, it probably was the only shopping event for my daddy and momma that particular year. Momma was pregnant and more than likely, she wasn’t in shopping mode. I have no memory of ever shopping with my dad before or after that night, so it had to have been a special event. As we got into town, we parked downtown and got out of the car and walked the streets looking at all the pretty Christmas decorations and I distinctly remember hearing the song “Silver Bells” ringing out from somewhere. It was then, and still is, one of my favorite Christmas songs. Everyone was rushing around loaded down with packages and shopping bags.
There was a bakery on the main street and the aroma coming from that store made our mouths water! My dad loved their apple turnovers, and he went inside and bought three. We wandered up and down the street and then walked across the street to what I best remember as being more of a hardware store which seemed out of place to me. But we went inside and my dad asked the storekeeper if he sold record players. He said he sure did! My teenage mind went wild knowing that my daddy must be thinking about buying me 45 rpm record player! I had asked for one for Christmas but didn’t have my hopes up. There were presents under the tree, but there was none that was obviously a record player. I knew money was tight and didn’t want to push my luck asking for anything as expensive as a record player. Well, wouldn’t you know, we walked out of that store carrying a box with my new 45 rpm Philco record player and radio! I picked out two or three records, so I’d have something to play, and Silver Bells was one of them! I played it over and over singing along with Bing Crosby long after Christmas. I spent many afternoons that winter by the fireplace listening to music or playing the radio. The way I think about it now, they probably didn’t really have the money to spend on something as expensive as that, but knowing I had my heart set it, they could stretch the budget somehow to make this young teenage girl have something special for Christmas.
Many years before this, I remember opening my presents from Santa Claus and opening a big box with a beautiful doll. I was so disappointed because I had my heart set on another doll which was much smaller. Tears came to my eyes and I cried out, “I wanted a little doll, not a big one!” As long as I live, I will never forgive myself for that. After becoming a parent, it always comes back to haunt me as I think of the sacrifices my parents made for me to have the things that I thought were important.
Christmas was always spent at Granny’s or Momee’s house, or both. We divided our time between the two families and most everyone does when families live close together. What fun it was watching the little ones play so excited for about two hours with all their new toys and then out to the yard probably playing with sticks and ropes and ordinary items that were around in the first place. Grown-ups would sit around drinking coffee and eating cake and catching up on all the news from those from out of town. Sometimes we would gather around in the living room at my mom’s house and listen to her play her organ and then we would join in singing Christmas carols.
Now, I sit and think of the sweet Christmas pictures showing my own three children opening presents. I remember my oldest wanted a toolbox like his daddy had. Santa brought the best little red toolbox he could find complete with hammer, saw, tape measure. His bed, one of a set of oak twin beds, was reconfigured the next year using that hammer and saw. Tim wanted a rocking horse and Santa brought the best stallion he could find which somehow wound up missing an ear. Teresa wanted a table and chair to use in her tea pot and cups. Where did the time go?
