Commentary: Memories of Christmas Past
Dec. 23—GREENSBURG — The holiday season, for me, is a time for remembering the past. I grow misty-eyed when the "Christmas Spirit" catches me, and I think back to the days when Mark (my younger brother) and I were riding our bicycles around the neighborhood.
Childhood was a very magical time, thanks to my parents. They must have had a very difficult time financially, living on one salary. But if there were financial woes they never let it show, and they never let it spoil our fun.
We lived in a two story house on Michigan Avenue. Dad was a foreman for BCA, and Mom worked at the "dress factory" on First Street (the Carol Cook dress factory).
She always sewed, and she always had such a great imagination. Many of our Halloween costumes were handmade, and she had an endless list of ideas for new ones.
She always handmade the Christmas tree skirt as well, and made cross-stitch ornaments, many of which we still have.
They always made Christmas very special for two little boys growing up in the '60s and '70s.
They always played-up the mystery of Santa Claus: how he made his Christmas Eve trip, the sound of reindeer hooves on the roof, and looking for him in the sky from our bedroom window before going to bed.
When Santa visited Mark and I, he was very messy.
He would scatter candy and tinsel all over the floor in the Christmas tree room. And he would take presents out of their boxes and build the HotWheel tracks; everything was ready to play with then we woke up.
Only now do I realize why we always had to go to bed early. "So Santa can come..." they would say.
We got a Hot Wheels race track one year, and on Christmas morning it was already set up for us, its curves and loop-dee-loops all over the floor around the Christmas tree.
And the cookies and milk for Santa? We always left a Coca-Cola for him, because he didn't like milk. And he only ate one cookie. Never more.
Another year, Santa brought us a "Ride-'em Casey Railroad." He was busy setting up the tracks for it when I showed up, rubbing my eyes, asking what was going on. All I remember was that Mom said, "Lowell!" and without a second's notice he swooped me up in his arms and carried me back to my bedroom.
Another vivid memory was a story Dad told me about Christmases when he grew up.
His family lived on Main Street, across from Trackside Café. It was called Ashby's Restaurant then. On Christmas Eve, my grandfather would give my aunt, uncle and dad some money, and would send them across the street to the restaurant for French fries. Times were hard, but this was obviously a tradition for many years, regardless of the expense.
When they returned home, Santa had come!
Now, all the children have grown and my brother has an adult son of his own, but I still cherish the memories of my wonderful childhood.
Thanks, Mom and Dad!
Contact Bill Rethlake at 812-651-0876 or email bill.rethlake@greensburgdailynews.com
