(continued from 12/14/2017 post which can still be found on this blog site.)

Gifts were small and inexpensive – new panties and socks, pj’s or mittens, but Santa never failed to visit. Dolls that wet themselves, metal play kitchens, a rocking baby cradle, home-made clothes that mother had sewn when I wasn’t looking. How my parents ever found the money for Christmas Santa, I will never know, although my mom, like every other mom in that era, could stretch a dollar further than I could ever imagine.

Christmas eve we sat under the tree in the dark except for one table lamp so dad could see the scripture, and he would read the Christmas story from the book of Luke:

“And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying, ‘Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.”

“And it came to pass, as the angels were gone away from them into heaven, the shepherds said one to another, Let us now go even unto Bethlehem, and see this thing which is come to pass, which the Lord hath made known unto us.”

There was no American Standard, New International Standard or English Standard, just his simple worn black leather King James Bible with our family genealogy penned in the front pages. Mom made hot cocoa (not from a packet) and placed a few of her home- made cookies on a plate which we ate as I opened “just one” present even though I begged for a second. We left one cookie on the plate with a small glass of milk and it took hours for me to fall asleep as I lay there listening for Santa.

This story played out in every Christian house in the country. The War was over, except in my dad’s nightmares. The men had jobs and the wives worked from dawn to dusk doing every chore by hand. No electric washer and dryer, no microwave, no dishwasher or blender or food chopper or Keurig.

My generation has now reached ages 70-80. What we are left with are memories, along some intense feelings: Appreciation and Gratitude. For those who went before us, we thank them for their dedication, their sacrifices and their love.

So as I sit here gazing at my lovely tree surrounded with gifts, I think back on those simpler times and I can’t help but feel nostalgic for the “good old days.” I hope you are enjoying your own childhood memories this week. God Bless and an early Merry Christmas!

approximately 1951 – that’s me on the right with friends Rodger Clements & Vickey Clements Grammont