email me macgeo2345@hotmail.com
read my blogs http:/macgeo1234.blogspot.com
Christmas is coming for my 75th time! A time to be good to others, and as I wish, be good to myself. It's a time for anyone who believes in it to be kind in actions, words and gifts. A time also to count my blessings, send cards of greeting and sing many of the beautiful Carols that have always put me in a very blissful and "sing along" mood.
It's a time to make amends I think should be made, shake hands with my foes, and not carry hard feelings for the folks who choose a different path of beliefs that does not permit them to celebrate various occasions such as this. That doesn't make them bad. Some of the nicest people I know have been raised with those beliefs, and would never do anything to harm anyone. I feel sorry that they're missing out, that's all.
I believe God loves us all and without discrimination. That's why, at this point in my life, I have no chosen religion, but eternal faith in God. I think if we do things right, we'll all be given a chance at strolling up the same path.
It's a special time to reflect back on my children when they were all still here. To put the ugly times aside, and enjoy the precious memories from the past, and even back farther than that, when I was little, along with some of my Siblings. With very few affordable, material things to wish for, we were still involved with our belief in Santa Clause. It kept hope in our hearts that something good was going to come of it, and it did without fail. We had very little store bought decorations to dress the tree with, and our mother would encourage us to make decorations in addition to the ones we did have.
We had the same lites year after year, and Mom always used red and white wool to make very cute little Santa Clauses to hang on the tree. Twenty or thirty, perhaps even more. Once we finished the tree, and before we were all shooed off to bed, we were each handed a present from our mother to open. New clothes were always the main theme and that was okay with us. Then, off to bed we went.
After we were tucked in bed and supposedly asleep, Paul Kusnir, a friend of the family, was the Great Santa Clause who came stomping through the front door with a "Ho,Ho,Ho," and talking very loudly to himself as he laid the presents under the tree.
Our bedrooms were upstairs so we could only listen close to the heat vents, but not see through to the lower level. We all thought they didn't know we were doing that, with them all the while knowing we were! "Now lets see", Santa would say, "this one's for Jeannie,"and "this one's for Georgie" and so on, until all of our names were mentioned.
When Santa left again, stomping and hollering all the way, we were satisfied he was for real and went back to bed, dreaming about the next day, not realizing our mother was yet to attend Midnight Mass. How she did it, I don't know!
One particular incident comes to mind regarding one early Christmas morning. We were always awake at pre-Dawn on Christmas morning, waiting for the okay to hit the deck. We did, and my brother Jack, who was around 14, was the first one down the stairs and into the dark hallway leading to the living room. Suddenly there was a cracking sound followed by a howl of pain from Jack, prompting someone to reach for the hallway light. There was a beautiful 8ft. long, red Bobsled, steering wheel and all that our brother-in-law, Doug Winters had painstakingly made over a period of months, I'm sure. It was a painful broken toe for Jack, but a present we all were able to enjoy through the early years to come.
Mom, bless her heart , was up earlier, and always had the Christmas tree lit and the coal and wood furnace already going, to start a day of happiness for all to enjoy. A grand day it always was, too. A day of opening presents, and gorging ourselves on Christmas cookies, candies and Christmas cake. Apple cider too! Way before computers and Christmas trees out of a box.
Through all of this, some of us didn't consider the tremendous work she went through to make this all possible, with our mother never complaining.
Through all of the very hard times, I don't ever remember a sad Christmas Day.
Looking back, all those good memories of her accomplishing these tasks, are a miracle to me.
Whenever I think of times being tough, I think about her.
Thanks for raising a family of eleven without the help of a responsible husband, Mom! And thank you for loving him with all his weaknesses even after he passed away, and until the day you died at the age of 99! And me?, I'll love you forever! Just sayin'.
Your son George, on behalf of the rest of the family.
No comments:
Post a Comment