Christmases Past

My early childhood memories of Christmas consist of getting up early Christmas morning, eating a quick breakfast, rushing through opening of presents and then hitting the road to visit all of daddy's many relatives, all of whom held open houses on Christmas Day. That night we would drag home after sampling the final buffet and, finally, I got to play with my presents. This occurred every year until I got old enough and brave enough to protest. According to my mother, I finally stamped my little foot and demanded to stay home one Christmas. After that, we limited ourselves to only a couple of open houses on Christmas afternoon.

Many of daddy's patients sent me gifts, which added to the excitement. I suppose I was just such a cute, sweet (spoiled rotten) little angel that they simply couldn't resist showering me with presents at Christmas, even though they had never met me. In spite of the fact that my parents DID know me, they half-filled the living room with presents from Santa Claus.

After I discovered the harsh reality about Santa, the number of presents went into a steep decline.

By the time I had children of my own, I was exhibiting Grinch-like qualities. Kell and Jay brought back some of the magic of the season for me, and I was able to shower them with an array of gifts that would make Santa blush, if he were real.

Kelley professed to believe in Santa Claus until she was fourteen, even though Jay continually taunted her with the truth of the matter. I admit I perpetuated the fraud by hiding all their gifts in a closet in my bedroom. I had to stay up later and later each year, as they grew older, but I always waited until they were in bed to bring the presents out and put them under the tree. It was only when Kell was caught standing outside that closet, hands clasped tightly to keep them from flinging the doors open that she finally had to admit that Jay was right. After that, some of the magic went out of Christmas, but the fun remained.

Those were the days, my friends.