Joyce and I both have fond memories of our childhood Christmases. In those days homes were filled to capacity with parents, aunts, uncles, cousins, great aunts, grandparents and friends. The home would warm up so much from all the people in the home that windows had to be opened even though the outside temperature was below freezing.The tables were full of turkey, dressing, ham, mashed potatoes, gravy, warmed vegetables, pumpkin pies, minced meat pies, whipped cream and so forth. It made for joyful days. The Christmas tree was nearly blocked from view with stacks of wrapped presents.
I remember my parents had a two story house with a full dining room and nearby kitchen. The two bedrooms and one bath were upstairs. At the time my parents had one bedroom and mom's father and mother had the other. Me and my brother had bunk beds stacked in a corner of mom and dad's bedroom. I was about 7, my brother 2 years old. I slept in the top bunk and had a problem with rolling over and falling to the floor in my sleep. (That may explain a lot to those of you who have known me for a long time.) Back one Christmas eve Dad came home and started drinking his beer. (He never drank during the week, never missed work because of drinking, but Friday night to Sunday he always had a beer in his fist) Christmas eve had the holiday following and the day after, so it was beer time for dad. My brother was put to bed early and I was sent upstairs not long after. The idea was to get me out of their way so they could pull out wrapped presents, stack them under and around the tree. I was curious and I discovered I could slide out of my bunk, crawl along the floor and slip out to the ending of the upstairs landing and by laying down I could peer into the living room. It was close to midnight and I was wondering what might be going on down there. I don't think I believed in fat man in a red suit, but then something had to happen to get those presents around the tree. I saw dad in his state trying to put a bicycle together. (They weren't sold all put together back then.) I climbed back into my bunk and slept until morning. I woke up and went downstairs, only to find parts of a bicycle laying all over the floor. Mom was awake drinking coffee when I arrived and stared at all those parts on the floor. Mom calmly said, "Santa didn't have time to put your bicycle together, so your father's going to have to do it."
Copyright Bill Weber 2006-2019 and beyond.
I remember my parents had a two story house with a full dining room and nearby kitchen. The two bedrooms and one bath were upstairs. At the time my parents had one bedroom and mom's father and mother had the other. Me and my brother had bunk beds stacked in a corner of mom and dad's bedroom. I was about 7, my brother 2 years old. I slept in the top bunk and had a problem with rolling over and falling to the floor in my sleep. (That may explain a lot to those of you who have known me for a long time.) Back one Christmas eve Dad came home and started drinking his beer. (He never drank during the week, never missed work because of drinking, but Friday night to Sunday he always had a beer in his fist) Christmas eve had the holiday following and the day after, so it was beer time for dad. My brother was put to bed early and I was sent upstairs not long after. The idea was to get me out of their way so they could pull out wrapped presents, stack them under and around the tree. I was curious and I discovered I could slide out of my bunk, crawl along the floor and slip out to the ending of the upstairs landing and by laying down I could peer into the living room. It was close to midnight and I was wondering what might be going on down there. I don't think I believed in fat man in a red suit, but then something had to happen to get those presents around the tree. I saw dad in his state trying to put a bicycle together. (They weren't sold all put together back then.) I climbed back into my bunk and slept until morning. I woke up and went downstairs, only to find parts of a bicycle laying all over the floor. Mom was awake drinking coffee when I arrived and stared at all those parts on the floor. Mom calmly said, "Santa didn't have time to put your bicycle together, so your father's going to have to do it."
Copyright Bill Weber 2006-2019 and beyond.
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