I’M JUST CURIOUS: Readers share Christmas memories

by Debbie Walker

Thank you for responding with some of your Christmas memories and allowing me to share them with our other readers. I hope you all enjoy them as much as I have. Here they are:

From Casey M.: A teen years memory is the year my brother almost squashed my mom. Every year we tried to be the first to get up. On this year my brother thought he was first up but my mom was already on the couch and almost landed on her.

Also: An adult memory is the year my parents flew to Virginia to spend Christmas with me when I was stationed on a ship there. They flew in Christmas evening and brought a snowstorm with them. The next day everything shut down because of the storm. Us Mainers were the only one out and about enjoying the snowing Christmas.

Marylou says: When I was in high school (1957) – my sister had a record player – like a small overnight case and I loved it! So I asked for one for Christmas – knowing full well my parents could not afford it. But I asked anyway. Without my knowledge, my parents “bought” my sister’s player – wrapped it up and put it under the tree. When I opened it I was shocked! And I cried! My mother could not believe it meant that much to me. It was a very Merry Christmas!

Edgar C. shares: On the little table in front of the window was what my father called his Christmas decoration and he wanted me to tell him why. There stood a small branch, or twig, in a block of wood with no leaves on it and an emptied bullet hanging from one of the twigs. From past events of this type I knew that I could not talk to him until I had figured out his “Christmas Decoration.”

Hmmmm! No leaves. A bullet? A casing? A round? A shell? A cartridge. On a branch with no leaves. Pacing and brain wracking followed. My father looking around the door frame from the kitchen every few minutes. Think about Christmas songs. Christmas trees, the weather? Song after song…. Wait! Cartridge sounds like ….. it’s on the tip of my brain! Yes!! Cartridge sounds like partridge. But the branch does not come from a pear tree. There are none around here. It’s just a bare …. Oh-h-h-h! A cartridge in a bare tree! A smile from my father! The guy with the eighth grade education stumps the college kid, again. I, for my part, did not help my siblings as they arrived and had their turn in the living room!

I’m just curious if you know how important it is to share your memories with family and friends, and to make new ones. Wishing you the Merriest Christmas and a Happy, Healthy New Year! Find me at dwdaffy@yahoo.com! Thanks again for reading!

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