"Who was Jesus" is being shown on the Military Channel..of all places huh?
A huge storm has been forecast to arrive here tonight. Tornadoes are predicted which is very rare for this part of Louisiana. I have a hurricane lamp on the breakfast bar in the event of power outage. This is a strange Christmas Eve.
Carrie is at her house. I just spoke with April. They have been making cookies again. She had to tell Carrie it was bedtime and she was holding Santa up as he had a lot of stops to make and her being awake was putting a cramp in his travels. She settled down in front of the Christmas tree with her blanket and pillow.
I remember those years with my brothers and sisters and Christmas Eve. The excitement builds as the day creeps closer. Christmas morning we rolled out of bed and stumbled half asleep to the steep stairs leading down to the living room. As the door swings open, we crowd together upon each other to get our first look at the tree to see what Santa Claus has bought. Usually the girls got the same thing. A doll would sit among two other dolls, our names on the one arm of them. I don't remember what the boys got as I was too excited about the baby waiting for me. One year I remember we three girls got batons. We never requested or demanded anything. It was unheard of to make a list or have certain demands but we did eye the "wish book" with awe. The Sears catalog spread on the floor with bodies in a spoke-like pattern around it left us breathless viewing the toys, flipping the slick pages and pointing at what was photographed there.
Along with the one gift, a basket of fruits, nuts and hard candy signaled it was Christmas morning. Usually the weather was cold, snow covered the ground and we stayed indoors around the wood stove that claimed a corner of the living room.
For seven little children, Christmas was a family event shared and enjoyed with each other.
I miss those Christmases. Did becoming an adult signal the end of the excitement? Commercialism has escalated from the Sears Christmas catalog to the airways bombarding the children with offerings for mom and dad to buy. Parents shower their children with so much that ripping one package open, they fling it aside to tear into another one. If you ask them what they got for Christmas a week later nothing makes a big impression on them. Will they have special memories of that one thing left beneath the tree for them? Doubtful.
I remember those years with my brothers and sisters and Christmas Eve. The excitement builds as the day creeps closer. Christmas morning we rolled out of bed and stumbled half asleep to the steep stairs leading down to the living room. As the door swings open, we crowd together upon each other to get our first look at the tree to see what Santa Claus has bought. Usually the girls got the same thing. A doll would sit among two other dolls, our names on the one arm of them. I don't remember what the boys got as I was too excited about the baby waiting for me. One year I remember we three girls got batons. We never requested or demanded anything. It was unheard of to make a list or have certain demands but we did eye the "wish book" with awe. The Sears catalog spread on the floor with bodies in a spoke-like pattern around it left us breathless viewing the toys, flipping the slick pages and pointing at what was photographed there.
Along with the one gift, a basket of fruits, nuts and hard candy signaled it was Christmas morning. Usually the weather was cold, snow covered the ground and we stayed indoors around the wood stove that claimed a corner of the living room.
For seven little children, Christmas was a family event shared and enjoyed with each other.
I miss those Christmases. Did becoming an adult signal the end of the excitement? Commercialism has escalated from the Sears Christmas catalog to the airways bombarding the children with offerings for mom and dad to buy. Parents shower their children with so much that ripping one package open, they fling it aside to tear into another one. If you ask them what they got for Christmas a week later nothing makes a big impression on them. Will they have special memories of that one thing left beneath the tree for them? Doubtful.
It's almost time for my Ambien. Merry Christmas. I'm done.
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