This will close out my Christmas series.  Two themes:

First, Christmas morning.  As I alluded earlier, we took pride in being the first up in our neighborhood.  My sisters began this tradition, and I will be ever grateful to them.

We would typically awake at 4:00 a.m. or so to begin the negotiations.  One would be appointed to approach the still darkened door of our parents' bedroom and ask whether it were time.  Strategically, of course, the parents could never accept our opening offer...it would be perceived as weakness, and we would have arisen earlier each year.  As it was, it typically took 4-5 approaches to wear them down, so by 5:00 a.m. we were in the kitchen awaiting Dad's getting the light right for his movie camera, and filming a panoramic scene of the still pristine, gift-laden living room.  He would at intervals stick his head out and predict our disappointment at the dearth of booty to be seen.  95% of our brain wrote this off as typical Dad  nonsense, but there was always that 5% that worried that maybe this year he was being truthful.

At last we were allowed to enter, and, counter to the tradition Jeanne thankfully introduced into our family, mayhem ensued where it was every wo/man for him/herself, and you didn't come up for air until everything with your name on it had been unwrapped and undone.  The formerly lovely display (Dad had it on record!) became a wasteland of paper and ribbon scraps.  Only then did we try to sort out Mom's and Dad's gifts and take any interest in our siblings presents.  There was no thought of breakfast.

Two interesting asides: first, no matter what we had asked Santa for, we were so excited by what we got, we usually forgot what we asked for that was not received; second, because we were first to arise in our neighborhood, we had to wait to show off our new things to our friends, usually for as much as an hour, which seemed like forever.

The second theme: while Christmas Eve was a time for our immediate or nuclear family, with few guests, Christmas Day was another thing entirely.  Once we had showed off our toys to our friends and straightened our Christmas mess to a reasonable degree, we usually made a pilgrimage to Payson where 80% of my Mom's living siblings and their families resided: Lionel & Geneva; Mike and Annie; Erma and Roy (Jasperson); and Vera and Claude (Newton).  Grandma would join us in the early years (until her death in 1963), and so whatever home in which the gathering occurred was stuffed to the brim...and we loved it.  These were times of getting to know and love our extended families.  We always returned to Orem filled to the gills with home-made delights and memories to last a year.

An errata from the last post...Mom or Dad haunted my dreams last evening and reminded me that we also owned an Eddie Arnold Christmas album which included a song near and dear to my Dad's heart, Will Santy Come to Shanty Town...also a Jim Reeves album with one they both liked, Old Christmas Card .

Short one in the wee hours...early Christmas gifts.  I remember going to Skagg's or Woolworth (mentioned previously) with my sisters to purchase some inexpensive cologne for Mom, and a bow-tie or cuff links for Dad.  When I got a little older, I remember saving my lunch money so I would have a little autonomy over my purchases, at the stores within range of my bicycle. Two were most memorable.  The first was a LP Christmas album featuring some group of singing nuns performing what was then a newly popular Christmas song, Little Drummer Boy.  Unfortunately, at least in my memory, although it was in a beautiful cover and the lead song was fine, it was the only really good song on the record.  The second was a pen and pencil set for each member of the family...procured by obtaining five pens from a dispenser at Bob's Army-Navy for .25 each, and a high quality wooden pencils at Woolworth in Orem for about .10 apiece.  All I can say is, my heart was in the right place.

As there were no DVD or even VCR players in our day (we did have television, though not color until my adolescent years), we found our Christmas entertainment by being vigilant in watching TV.  Almost every TV series (including westerns and Twilight Zone) would have a special Christmas episode the week before Christmas.  In addition, every variety show would also have a Christmas special...Andy Williams was one of my favorites.  Bob Hope did not have a weekly show, but he also always had an annual Christmas special.  Most of the above mentioned can be found on Youtube.

There were also very few Christmas movies extant of which we were aware.  Certainly "A Christmas Carol" was available on several channels throughout the season.  Later, if you were lucky, you might catch an airing of "Its a Wonderful Life" if you stayed up late.  "White Christmas" did not come until later, after TBS (Ted Turner's media company) began "colorizing" old movies...White Christmas was one of the first.  I don't believe I ever saw the black and white version.

We also didn't have many Christmas albums until Michelle got to be a teen...she provided us with an Andy Williams Christmas album, as well as one by Johnny Mathis, and one that became a favorite of mine by the Lettermen.  The only two I remember Mom and Dad owning were a multi-performer album put out as a premium by Firestone Tires, and a pretty peppy one by the Mexicali Brass (no relation to Herb Alpert).  The former, however, introduced me to one of my all-time favorite Christmas songs, sung (but mostly spoken) by Cary Grant!  Christmas Lullaby   

Most of our Christmas music thus came over the radio, by virtue of the goodness of the various stations, all of whom seemed to give some of their programming over to Christmas music...God bless them. 

We did not really a solid tradition as far as Christmas Eve dinner.  I think int was mostly normal food with a little bit of nuts, candy, and other junk food thrown in (how else could we dream of sugar plums?)  Our main intent was to get to bed so Santa could come, and so we could awake all the earlier to begin the arduous task of wearing down Mom & Dad's resistance to waking up (more about this later).

Some time during my teenage years, though,  we decided we could afford Kentucky Fried Chicken, and since we all loved that, and it was so convenient, we tried that for a few years.  That was a wonderful idea except one year (it was either my sophomore or junior year in high school) I got so nauseous in the wee hours (either food poisoning, or, more likely, over-indulging) that I almost made an eternal oath to swear of  KFC for eternity.  I am glad I never made that oath, as I have enjoyed it many times since (though not for a year or two after that experience); and KFC has even made an appearance or two in Jeanne's and my celebrations over the years...but I was very close. 

But no matter the fare, Christmas Eves were always magic...from the announcement on TV every year that NORAD had detected a unidentified aircraft taking off from the North Pole during the 10:00 news on Christmas Eve, to a little boy who swore he heard jingle bells outside his window in the middle of the night.

Mom told the story of a time when Maurine and Michelle came to her (in tears?) because one of the older kids in the neighborhood had told them there wasn't a Santa.  Mom sat down on the living room couch with them to reconcile their doubt as best she could. This was a more innocent time when you weren't afraid to leave your curtains open, and before she got very far, a face appeared at the picture window just opposite them...it was the Jolly Old Elf  himself!  Her jaw was as far open and her eyes as wide as theirs.  Case closed!

It turned out to be my Uncle Mike dropping by for a visit, but his timing was ...magical.  There would be a time later to move on from the this piece of innocence from childhood, but on this evening it was preserved for a few more years.

Maybe a short one tonight...

I only remember two times as we were growing up that we didn't have a standard evergreen tree with all the great decorations, and tinsel and silver icicles to top it off.  My personal favorite decoration, though I was never sure how these made it past Underwriters' Laboratories for their approval, were the lights that had a bulb at the bottom, and a clear glass tube extending out which was filled with some liquid  As the base heated up, the tube began to bubble.  I just looked on Google, and the most official name is "bubble lights".

Anyway, one year after aluminum trees had been in vogue for a year or two, Dad decided to try one.  As I remember it was a nightmare to assemble, which may have contributed to the slightly bent appearance of  many of the branches.  I believe we hung only blue balls on it, and I believe Dad also bought a multi-color light wheel (red, blue, yellow and green) to reflect off the metallic branches.  I do not believe this tree lasted more than a year.

After a few more years passed, there was another trend...regular Christmas trees "flocked" with some snowy white goop.  Dad once again felt adventurous.  If things went well, you had a tree that looked like it was coated with fluffy white snow.  For most people, however, their trees looked like a cat had gotten into a large container of cottage cheese, then decided to mount the Christmas tree to spread the joy.  We put only pink balls on this time, but we did still have the multi-colored light wheel, adding an eerie touch.  That was Dad's last foray into creative Christmas trees.   

I am back, a day later than I promised.

During the season, Mom & Dad frequently had occasion to shop without our help and advice (we could never imagine why) and before they were old enough to date, that put Michelle and Maurine in command.  They were pretty reasonable baby-sitters, and I have always admired their  techniques.  It was on one of these evenings that Maurine, with able assistance from Michelle, taught Dave and I not only how to belch on demand, but how to do it in complete sentences (Jeff was still an innocent baby at the time). It is probably a good thing, but I sometimes regret that I have lost that ability.

They would tell us of their legendary instructors and wonderful exploits at the ancient Lincoln Junior High School (by the time we youngers came of age, a new junior high had been built on our side of town, so the stories would remain stories. Maurine would also regale us with various Christmas tunes using her folded hands for an adjustable whistle.  While I did not acquire that skill at the time, it provided me the inspiration that led me to become a pretty good hand whistler, my debut occurring inadvertently in the middle of my 8th grade science class...another story for another time.

Ice skating in those times meant a trip to the Provo Boat Harbor, a small man-made pond which opened onto Utah Lake and, during warmer seasons provided a place for the various floating craft that populated the lake a place to launch.  During most winters it froze over so firmly that a jeep with a blade could be driven out on it to scrape of the snow and provide a suitable skating surface (early version of a Zamboni, I guess:-).

My Dad was an accomplished figure-skater, and passed his skills on to Michelle and Maurine, both of whom could skate backward with ease.  The boys in the family apparently did not pick up that gene, and could only skate forward...but we did have such great times.  The skating was free, and there were always a few fires on the shore to warm us up and to provide the evocative scent of wood smoke to our outings.  We would often return home to hot cocoa or deep bowls of Mom's home-made chili.

To be continued...

Among other delights, my Mom made gingerbread houses...not the kits like they have now, or the graham-cracker simulations  to which Jeanne and I resorted, but a self drawn pattern she used to mark and cut the rolled-out gingerbread into all the necessary pieces for construction...including windows and doors and of course, a chimney,  The smell of the gingerbread baking was marvelous, and she would have to keep us from snitching while it cooled enough to work with.

To glue the large pieces together she used, not royal icing (that came later), but some kind of melted sugar concoction that I will mention again later.  After it was thus "glued" together, she used royal icing to decorate and put all the candy pieces in place.  It was a delicate operation,with not a few flustrations along the way, but when it was finished, it would pass a few city building codes for sturdiness.  Of course, after Christmas it must come down, and we all waited for our chunks.  The royal icing was sweet and crunchy, of course, the gingerbread was no longer fresh but we still loved it, (and it was covered with candies); but my most vivid memory was of that burnt sugar.  Some didn't care for it, but I liked its somewhat darker sweet flavor, like hard molasses...it was a perfect offset to the sweet gingerbread.

My mother also made divinity every year, though for the life of me I could never determine why.  IT was the hardest of candies to get to turn out properly...it had to be heated to just the perfect temperature, and then beat while something white into it...timing was critical.  You could also add flavorings or colorings or nuts, but not too much.  And if it turned out perfectly, everyone involved was so proud.  I really think that is why this candy was made...to compete with other divinity makers to see who could make the most beautiful batch of divinity.  It couldn't have been for the purpose of eating...I thought it was awful!

Cut our sugar cookies were a must, and we sometimes got to help decorate them.  Mom's fudge was a special treat, and I still use her recipe to this day...I have found none easier nor better.

I will be taking a hiatus until next Tuesday evening as we are in Utah over the weekend...when I will unveil my father's role in all the doings. 

At our home in the '50's and '60's, Christmas decorations didn't go up until two weeks into December.  That was probably because we ordinarily got our tree Charlie Brown-style...we went to the nearest lot and picked out the best-shaped one we could find.  It seemed like all the trees were of the short-needle varieties.  They would nail a wooden stand on it for you for free.  My recollection is they ran $4-$5.  It would go tied on top of our old Mercury or Buick or whatever car we were driving a particular year, with bailing twine provided by the lot owner.  The trees still smelled vaguely of pine, but were decidedly not fresh...thee were no tree shaking devices in those days to shake out your excess needles, but no need...all you needed to do was give the tree a hard glance and needles would come down...so I am sure it was pushing the limits of safety to have them up even two weeks, but once they were decorated, with the shimmering icicles providing sort of a magic veil, I was sure there was nothing in the world more enchanting.

The lights on our house were big and colored, and when it snowed (which it always seemed to do in those days) the outline made the house look like Hansel & Gretel material.

Fortunately, two weeks seemed to last forever because you wanted Christmas to come quickly so badly that time stood still...until it was over, and then it really did seem like an eternity until next year's holiday.

We never had a piano in our house,  and our Christmas record collection was limited (though I am sure to Mom & Dad it was so much more than what they had).  I do remember singing carols together in our house, and sometimes Dad would accompany with his harmonica...sweet moments.  The only Christmas movies we had, except the old black-and-white version of A Christmas Carol with Alastair Sim as the miser, was if we managed to catch a late-night network replay of "Its a Wonderful Life" or "Miracle on 34th Street".  Rudolph and Charlie Brown didn't come until my teenage years.

...more to come, (including an expose on big sister babysitting techniques)   

It has been too long since I have posted here.  I don't have the resources at my fingertips that I did in Missouri, but with a prompt from the "Light the World" initiative, I have decided to share a few memories of Christmas with my Mom & Dad, Virgil and Iola Lambson.

I have no memories of Christmas in Spanish Fork...I was only three when we moved in 1956 to Orem...but I have vivid images in my mind from those years.

My mom worked in those days at J.C. Penney which was located at the corner southeast corner of 100 West and Center Streets.  She carpooled  from Orem with a variety of Penney's colleagues (all women).  My Dad would often pick her up when she worked into the evening, and sometimes he would take us.

There was a drugstore next to Penney's called Skaggs...they were kind of like a small version of Wal-Mart (no groceries, mind you), but there was something unique about Skaggs.  They had an upper floor that they kept closed most of the year, but after Thanksgiving they opened it up and it was a fully decorated toy-store...or the closest thing we had to a toy-store growing up.  For us, it was one of the surest harbingers that the Christmas Season would roll forward, and there would be no stopping it (we didn't know about the Grinch at the time).

Penney's in those days also had a bulk candy section right in the middle of the first floor where you could get scoops of cinnamon bears, nonpareils, peanut clusters, orange slices or a number of other extraordinary treats.  Mom & Dad used to like to buy a bag of treats, then keep it hidden at home, only briniing it out as a special surprise.  One of their favorites was "bridge mix", I suppose so-called because it was an appropriate treat for people who played bridge (a 4-person card game) together.  It has an assortment of nuts and creams mixed in, and  am sure is the model you see in older Peanuts cartoons where someone has a bag of candy, invites someone to share it, they stick in their hand and inevitable get something they don't like...usually a coconut creme (I guess Charlie Schultz was "brainless").

Next to Skaggs was a Woolworth's  (one of a number of what used to be called "dime" stores because of the inexpensive things you could buy there), and next to Woolworth's, the big park that surrounded the Provo Tabernacle.  They used to decorate that park with a make-believe "candyland" type maze, made of glossy-painted sheet-metal, that we somehow never tired of....more entertainment if Mom was detained or if we arrived a bit early (one of which I always hoped would occur).  The major buildings were always decorated, and the streets in the "strings of street lights" manner referred to in the Christmas song Silver Bells.

I will post more in coming days...