Image by Sabrina Belle from Pixabay

I have a confession to make. As the years pass, Christmases from the past hold even greater meaning for me. Every memory shines bright, unmarred by flaws. Though some must have been less than perfect, I cannot recall them and feel no shame in admitting it.

Some of them, however, are more vivid than others, for various reasons, often humorous.

I remember vividly the year my father, in what he probably thought was a fantastic idea, brought home an aluminum tree. Keep in mind as you try to picture this in your mind, this was in the early nineteen sixties, and those trees were neither realistic, nor good looking:

Let’s just say that my mother’s reaction was a touch different than dad expected. Of course, he hadn’t bothered to talk to her about it. He worked at Eaton’s department store at the time, so the employee discount might have had something to do with his decision.

To her credit, mom didn’t complain about the monstrosity. As I recall (which may or may not be accurate, I confess), her eyes filled with tears and she retired to the bedroom, leaving a crestfallen husband to reconsider his money-saving choice. To his credit, the tree went back into the box and down to the basement, where it stayed until somebody tossed it years later. Lesson learned? Well, like me, dad wasn’t the best at interpreting his long-suffering mates moods or preferences, although he loved her with all his heart.

There was a small, hole-in-the-wall sized fruit merchant in my city, called Farmer’s Fruit. For reasons I my father never explained, dad always called it Farmer’s Foul Fruit. I suspect it was just a nickname he or his friends came up with, because as I recall, their produce was first rate.

Every year, he made a special trip downtown to buy a box of Japanese mandarin oranges. This was back in the days when the box was wooden and filled to the top with the best oranges on the planet. Unfortunately, they aren’t sold outside of Japan anymore, and the California or Chinese substitutes pale in comparison. That trip was a highlight of the Christmas season for the entire family. I still remember the year he took me with him. The tiny store was filled to overflowing with customers, all looking for their box of Christmas treasure.

My parents were not rich, and with seven children to feed and clothe, Christmas was always a challenge. They always managed to give each of us, one memorable gift over and above the obligatory socks, mitts, shirts, etc. I remember one year my father presented me with a coveted Johnny Seven OMA (one man army), the toy every boy just had to have.

This toy had everything a soldier could ever need! It was a machine gun, a rocket launcher, grenade thrower, and numerous other attachments for the neighborhood wars we all fought. Of course, something like this would never see the light of day now, but back in the early to mid nineteen sixties, all of my friends were armed to the teeth and loving it!

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Johnny_Seven_OMA

Of all the gifts I received, though, my all time favorite was the electric train set I got one unforgettable Christmas.

Image by Çiğdem Onur from Pixabay

Of course, the best part of each Christmas was the special feeling of the day. Even as a young boy, excited about new toys and wonderful food and treats, Christmas was a day spent enjoying each other’s company and listening to dad explain in his simple and modest way, the meaning of the day and the season leading up to it. That left a lasting impression, which has stayed and strengthened as the years roll on.

In closing, let me add to Jann’s wonderful message about the birth of our Savior and the beauty of the scriptural account in Luke chapter 2. No version describes that wondrous night any better. It’s simplicity is powerful and moving.

To you and yours, I want to wish you the Merriest Christmas.

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