I have many happy Christmas memories. The happiest of all are those spent with family and friends. From my birth to my tenth year, my family and I lived at the corner of 20th Street and Dawson Avenue in a rented house in Signal Hill. Holidays spent at that address were full of excitement and wonderment. I remember Daddy hanging Christmas lights around our windows and all the fun we had trimming the tree. We didn’t have much money back then— so compared to all the conspicuous spending and receiving of this generation’s parents and children, our Christmases of that era seem quite sparse.
There were no computers or big-screen television sets, iPods or Wii exercise programs. My parents didn’t text or email messages to friends— they sent Christmas cards with LONG involved holiday letters typed and “photostatted” by my mom. Friends received gifts of coffee cans filled with Mom’s homemade “scramble” — now bought at grocery stores under the name of Chex Mix. Our gifts to one another were simple. I usually received something to wear and something to play with. Daddy got his usual tie and an ashtray or ornament I made in school. Mom lucked out with a new addition to her charm bracelet (details in my column last week) and maybe a bottle of “My Sin” cologne.
Once my folks bought our first home, just one block from where we had been living, things changed a bit. I was growing up and had a bit of my own money to spend on Christmas gifts. My pal Becky and I would catch the bus for downtown to spend our saved-up babysitting and allowance money on our family and friends. We didn’t have many dollars, but shopping at Kress and Woolworth’s sure made our money stretch. We felt so grown up dealing with our own transportation, choosing Christmas presents so carefully and spending our money wisely. We were great shoppers and always stayed within our budgets— not much choice since neither of us had checkbooks or credit cards.
Those days are long gone now, but my memories and friendship with Becky remain. We live two doors apart, with her parents’ home in between us. I still shop for Becky, who long ago added a husband and two daughters to my shopping list.
Our neighborhood is even more Christmas-like this year. We have brand-new neighbors to the south of us. Ann, Tariq, Ann’s mom and their five adopted special-needs kids are a blessing to us. Their love and dedication to one another is what Christmas is all about. I wish them— and all of you— the merriest Christmas ever.
