Almost Christmas

Christmas 1974

Sherman TX

" notice the little puppy in the floor"  My favorite toy

My first Bicycle

Christmas 1974

Well, it is almost Christmas and everyone is rushing around putting up the last string of lights, getting the cards in the mail (does anyone do that anymore), and getting those last minute gifts bought.  Now, we have to get the time to wrap all the little buggers.  Family making plans to be at grandma's house. 

My favorite memories are from Christmas' Past when my grandmother and great-grandmother would rush us off to bed and tuck us in and tell us to hurry off to sleep so Santa would be on his way.  My dad would pop in once in a while and tell us that he heard Santa was stuck up in the mountains because of the snow and my sister and I would worry if he was going to make it.  I would sneak a peek to see if it had started snowing or listen for the sounds of hooves on the roof top.  While waiting to grab a glimpse of Santa, we would drift off to sleep...

...Morning would come arrive and Kris and I would pop out of bed, before anyone was awake (so we thought).  As we ran into the living room to see what Santa brought, we would find my grandmothers already hard at work on Christmas Dinner.  I still remember the smells of my Great-Grandmother's house as if she were here now.  My Aunt, Grandpa, Dad and both my grandmother's would all be present and away we would go to open the presents. 

Now that I am all grown up and have children of my own, it is still those memories that I remember and what I so very much want for my children.  Now that I look back, I realize it wasn't what was in the boxes that was so important, but the memories that stayed from those Christmas gone by.

To each and everyone who stops by Just Another Day.... please take a moment this Christmas Season and remember those special moments.  We often forget the little things that mean so much.  It is not what is inside that box that you will remember in the years ahead, but the love that was placed in picking that gift, and the special care and love that was given when picking out the paper and tieing that last bow.  To you and your family, I wish each and everyone a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

The Old Yellow Shirt

...just received this though email today and had to share. You may have received it already, but thought it was worth sharing and reading again...

The baggy yellow shirt had long sleeves, four extra-large pockets trimmed in black thread, and snaps up the front. It was faded from years of wear, but still in decent shape. I found it in 1963 when I was home from college on Christmas break, rummaging through bags of clothes Mom intended to give away.
You're not taking that old thing, are you?" Mom said when she saw me packing the yellow shirt. "I wore that when I was pregnant with your brother in 1954!" "It's just the thing to wear over my clothes during art class, Mom. Thanks!" I slipped it into my suitcase before she could object. The yellow shirt became a part of my college wardrobe. I loved it. After graduation, I wore the shirt the day I moved into my new apartment and on Saturday mornings when I cleaned.
The next year, I married. When I became pregnant, I wore the yellow shirt during big-belly days. I missed Mom and the rest of my family, since we were in Colorado and they were in Illinois. But that shirt helped. I smiled, remembering that Mother had worn it when she was pregnant, 15 years earlier.
That Christmas, mindful of the warm feelings the shirt had given me, I patched one elbow, wrapped it in holiday paper and sent it to Mom. When Mom wrote to thank me for her "real" gifts, she said the yellow shirt was lovely. She never mentioned it again.
The next year, my husband, daughter, and I stopped at Mom and Dad's to pick up some furniture. Days later, when we uncrated the kitchen table, I noticed something yellow taped to its bottom. The shirt!
And so the pattern was set. On our next visit home, I secretly placed the shirt under Mom and Dad's mattress. I don't know how long it took for her to find it, but almost two years passed before I discovered it under the base of our living-room floor lamp. The yellow shirt was just what I needed now while refinishing furniture. The walnut stains added character.
In 1975, my husband and I divorced. With my three children, I prepared to move back to Illinois. As I packed, a deep depression overtook me. I wondered if I could make it on my own. I wondered if I would find a job. Unpacking in our new home, I knew I had to get the shirt back to Mother. The next time I visited her, I tucked it in her bottom dresser drawer.
Meanwhile, I found a good job at a radio station. A year later, I discovered the yellow shirt hidden in a rag bag in my cleaning closet. Something new had been added. Embroidered in bright green across the breast pocket were the works "I BELONG TO PAT." Not to be outdone, I got out my own embroidery materials and added an apostrophe and seven more letters. Now the shirt proudly proclaimed, "I BELONG TO PAT'S MOTHER."
But I didn't stop there. I zigzagged all the frayed seams, then had a friend mail the shirt in a fancy box to Mom from Arlington, VA. We enclosed an official-looking letter from "The Institute for the Destitute," announcing that she was the recipient of an award for good deeds. I would have given anything to see Mom's face when she opened the box.
But, of course, she never mentioned it. Two years later, in 1978, I remarried. The day of our wedding, Harold and I put our car in a friend's garage to avoid practical jokers. After the wedding, while my husband drove us to our honeymoon suite, I reached for a pillow in the car to rest my head. It felt lumpy. I unzipped the case and found, wrapped in wedding paper, the yellow shirt. The shirt was Mother's final gift. She had known for three months that she had terminal Lou Gehrig's disease. Mother died the following year at age 57.
I was tempted to send the yellow shirt with her to her grave, but I'm glad I didn't because it is a vivid reminder of the love-filled game she and I played for 16 years. Besides, my older daughter is in college now, majoring in art. And every art student needs a baggy yellow shirt with big pockets.

HOOK 'EM HORNS

Well, it's that time again........