As we pause to celebrate Christmas and the holiday season, we also remember back to those holidays of the past and the memories that will always be part of us.
We hope the sharing of this holiday memory will help us all think back to earlier times of family and happiness as we all gather to make memories of the future.
No matter how many Christmases we celebrate, I believe the ones that stay with us are those from our childhood. At least that’s the case with me.
While I can’t tell you what I was doing on Christmas five or 10 years ago, the memories of my childhood Christmases are as vivid today as they were almost 50 years ago. To this day, I can recall the smell of cookies baking in the kitchen, the scent of a cedar Christmas tree and – most especially – that once-in-a-lifetime present.
I remember Big Oma – my great-grandmother – being at our house almost constantly in the days leading up to Christmas. She would help get everything in order for the crowd of relatives that would descend on our little farm for the annual holiday meal. She spent a lot of her time in the kitchen, baking for the upcoming feast.
I particularly remember her turning out Christmas cookies by the dozen. Cookies in the shape of stars, Christmas trees and even Santa Claus himself would be covered with sugary icing and spangles of red and green. The kitchen windows would fog up against the cold outside and the whole house smelled like Naeglin’s Bakery.
Although the cookies were meant for holiday guests – with a couple left over for Santa’s visit – I would lurk around the kitchen, looking as pitiful as possible, hoping to be rewarded with a freshly-baked cookie. Big Oma had a big heart – and a very healthy sweet tooth – and always stopped to share a cookie or two with me.
Another one of my most vivid memories was cutting the Christmas tree. Since we lived on the cedar-covered hillsides of the Texas Hill Country, there was never a need for a “store bought” tree. We simply went out and cut one down.
Opa would grab an axe and the two of us would head down Bear Creek to find the family tree. We were fairly selective and the process typically took the better part of the day.
Cedars don’t make the “perfect” tree one sees on Christmas cards or in commercial tree lots, but that never really bothered us. Opa would rig strings and wires through the branches to straighten things out – a true feat of cedar-chopper engineering. If there was a bare spot, we would either turn it toward the wall or drape it with extra lights and decorations.
To this day, the scent of cedar in the house means Christmas to me. So do “irregular” Christmas trees.
One of my most favorite Christmas memories is of a very special present – a bright red bicycle.
I first spotted the bike on display at Henne’s Hardware Store a couple of weeks before Christmas. Henne’s was a regular stop for Opa and me on Saturday mornings. While Oma shopped for groceries, Opa and I would take care of other errands. That usually meant a stop at Henne’s.
As Opa discussed the affairs of the world with Mr. Henne, I explored the store. In the back, near the lawnmowers, I spotted the bike. It was fire engine red with shiny chrome bumpers. It has red tassels on the handlebar grips.
I already had a bike, but it was no prize. It was a hand-me-down that had been left rusting in Uncle Alvin’s storage shed. Opa talked Uncle Alvin out of the old bicycle and fixed it up for me to ride to school. It worked well enough but, compared to the new bikes most of the other kids had, it looked pretty awful.
The bright red bike at Henne’s was every bit as nice as the ones the other kids had. Maybe nicer. In fact, I thought it was just about the finest bicycle in the world. I just stood there and admired it.
“What’cha doing?” Opa asked, jolting me out of my trance.
“Just looking at this bicycle,” I explained.
“You’ve already got a bicycle,” he said with typical German frugality. “And we haven’t got money to spend on foolishness.”
“I know,” I gloomily replied.
We left the store to meet up with Oma. Nothing more was said about the elegant red bicycle.
A week or so later, we were back in Henne’s. I ran straight to the back of the store to see if the bike was still there. It was. And there was a big yellow “SOLD” tag hanging from the handlebars.
I was heartbroken. Deep down, I knew Oma and Opa couldn’t afford to buy the crimson beauty for me but, at the same time, I didn’t want to see someone else get “my” bike.
“Looks like somebody bought that bicycle you like so much,” Opa said, walking up behind me.
“Guess so,” I mumbled unhappily.
We left and, again, not another word was said about the red bike.
The remaining days before Christmas passed quickly and Christmas morning dawned clear and cold. We all assembled in front of the Christmas tree to open our presents.
I got a new school lunch box and some shirts from Oma and Opa. The various aunts and uncles gave the usual collection of socks and underwear – “He can always use those.” From Big Oma came a tin full of her homemade cookies and rock candy. All things considered, it was a pretty decent haul.
With the presents opened, we started to head into the kitchen for breakfast. Opa stopped us.
“There’s one other present; it didn’t fit under the tree,” he explained.
He disappeared into the back room and promptly returned pushing the beautiful red bicycle.
“Merry Christmas,” he said as I beamed with the happiness only a kid can feel.
At the time, that bicycle was special to me because it meant I had one just as nice as all the other kids.
The memory of that bicycle is special to me now because I understand what a sacrifice it was for Oma and Opa to buy it for me.
I guess we’ve all once received that “special” Christmas gift – at least I hope so. That gift itself is probably long lost, but it will never be forgotten among our most treasured Christmas memories.
InstantNewsBellaire hopes this holiday season brings you memories as warm, as happy and as lasting as this one.
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