When I think back to the holidays when I was a kid, I can remember a few of the gifts I received (the Chrisy doll with growing hair, the three-foot sawdust stuffed Curious George and the five speed Schwinn) but mostly I remember how we celebrated.
I remember decorating slice and bake cookies (my mom was no cook), picking out a tree from the same lot every year and begging to decorate it on the same day — which never happened. I remember Dad making eggnog and mom setting out the Christmas decorations — my favorite was a cardboard Santa who sat awkwardly in a red wooden sleigh.
I remember the neighborhood Christmas Eve sing in which all the neighborhood kids gathered to sing carols in front of the big evergreen tree — it even required a practice the week before.
I remember spending the night in my sister’s room on Christmas Eve, hoping and praying that we might fall asleep and Christmas morning would finally come. First thing Christmas morning, my mom would bring us our stockings to open in bed. The rest of the presents couldn’t be touched until after breakfast.