I wish I could say that I had one Christmas that stood out from all the rest, but I don’t.
I do not have an epic tale to tell like that of Ralphie Parker and his quest for a Red Ryder, carbine action, 200-shot range model air rifle on the classic movie “A Christmas Story,” but I do have some very fond memories of what Christmas was like on a small Minnesota dairy farm with my wonderful, but rather loud, family.
Of course, I remember a lot of snow. It was, after all, Minnesota. In fact, I do not think I can recall a Christmas without snow while I lived there.
I also remember how the entire family would gather either on Christmas eve or New Year’s Eve for a big celebration. I can recall how excited I would get as each member of my family and extended family arrived. I have three sisters and one brother. And no, I am not the youngest, the oldest or the one right in the middle.
I would look in each box of presents we received to see who had my name that year. You see, our family continued to grow and so we decided to draw names for Christmas. We would set a dollar limit and jot down a few gift ideas within that price range. The name drawing extended to my grandfather, aunt and uncle and their three kids.
I can also recall how the entire table was filled with all kinds of goodies, including my personal favorite peanut butter fudge, chocolate fudge, various types of cookies, eggnog and punch, which was not to be mistaken for the “adult’s punch.”
Ahh, yes.
It truly was a great time.
After a great, big dinner, compliments of my mother and her helpers, we would retire to the living room, which on this occasion would be packed. Being one of the younger kids I would always run into the living room to find a spot on the couch, but year after year I was always scooted off and wound up sitting on the ground. I decided if I had to be on the ground, I would sit as close to the presents as possible. This decision would end up with me passing out all of the Christmas presents, which I really didn’t mind.
Once everyone had made their way to the living room and all the presents were passed out, we would open them one by one from the youngest to the oldest. This way, the younger children could play with their new toys while the rest of the family opened up gifts.
One year, when my sister was in junior high, my brother got her name. My sister had asked for a Metallica cassette tape and Metallica T-shirt. My brother, being the prankster his was, wrapped her entire present with duct tape. It was so funny watching her try to get it open. When she finally did, all she found was a bunch of wrapping paper, a package of toothpicks and a New Kids on the Block T-shirt. You could tell she was mad, but being raised right and she politely said “thank you.”
My brother kept teasing her and saying things like “Isn’t that your favorite band,” knowing all too well she did not care for them at all.
When all of the presents were unwrapped, my brother gave her the real present, which was beautifully wrapped. She did get the Metallica cassette tape and matching T-shirt after all.
Once the presents were all unwrapped, the kids would usually head to the dining room to play with their new games or have more treats, while the adults talked about ice fishing, hunting and of course the Minnesota Vikings.
Eventually, it would be time for the younger kids to go to bed, including me, and the party continued as I went upstairs with my belly full of food and my mind wondering what Santa Claus will bring me while I sleep.
It’s been years since I have been apart of a Minnesotan family Christmas. The last time I went to one was the year my mom and dad decided to sell the farm.
I may not make it to them anymore, but I can still picture them in my head as if they just happened yesterday. To me, those memories are more precious than any gift I could have ever received then.
Reader Comments(0)