I decided I was going to go looking for pictures to go with this post before I started writing but I have yet to do that. My holidays future are taking a new twist so I want to remember all the good times from Christmases Past.
Holidays from my childhood I have no pictures of, at least none I can put my hands on easily. I do have vivid memories, though, and hope I have created these same type of memories for my children.
I grew up differently. When my parents split up in 1966, my sister and I moved in with our paternal grandparents. My mother was working full time and going to night school. My father was set to move about 70 miles away for his new job. Both thought that moving in with with Kate and, wow! I know my grandfather’s name but have no idea what I called him when I was young, Jim was good.
Christmas was always church on Christmas Eve – midnight services, trying to see who could get further down the street with the candle from the candlelight service without the wind blowing it out, begging to open a gift and, finally as we got older, being allowed to.
There was always a tree. There was always an Advent calendar. There was always an Advent wreath. Sometimes, one or more of us would sing or be an altar server. Sometimes, we would all sit together in a pew.
There was baking. The house would fill with wonderful smells – cookies galore and frosting and sprinkles. I still use some of the cookie cutters to this day.
At some point in time, we started going to my maternal grandparents’ farm on Christmas Eve. We were always still home for midnight services. This was a great big family time as my mother is the second oldest of eight. There were tons of kids there and adults too. I use to love these days and continued going well into adulthood. This is where my fudge story took place.
The next holiday post will be about holidays in my family – the one with my kids – and will have pictures!