# Favorite Christmas Memory From Your Childhood?



## admin (Apr 28, 2016)

How will you be spending Christmas this year?

What is your favorite Christmas memory from your childhood?


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## Slippy (Nov 14, 2013)

Trigger Warning;


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## Sasquatch (Dec 12, 2014)

Christmas will probably be quiet but every year on Dec. 26th I play poker with Santa, Loch Ness monster and Darth Vader.

Sent from a Galaxy S5 far far away.


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## Slippy (Nov 14, 2013)

Sasquatch said:


> Christmas will probably be quiet but every year on Dec. 26th I play poker with Santa, Loch Ness monster and Darth Vader.
> 
> Sent from a Galaxy S5 far far away.


I guess Elvis and the mythical 3rd Date bailed?:vs_laugh:


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## Sasquatch (Dec 12, 2014)

Slippy said:


> I guess Elvis and the mythical 3rd Date bailed?:vs_laugh:


They couldn't make it, they're looking for WMD's in Iraq.

Sent from a Galaxy S5 far far away.


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## TG (Jul 28, 2014)

Julian calendar Christmas, we'll be in Northern Ontario, then driving down to Smoky Mountains for a few days.
Our Christmas is Jan 7'th (Gregorian calendar), my aunt is flying the kids to Odessa, Ukraine, while my hubby and I will be in New York. 

Usually, a Christmas with our whole family is kind of insane and so much fun.. Snow BBQ (venison, salmon, something wild), lots of Horilka, very loud Ukrainian and Russian Kozak folk music, jumping in the icy lake or river, ice fishing..,etc
Lots of amazing memories.


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## Targetshooter (Dec 4, 2015)

I was 4 y/o , us three kids woke up on Dec . 23 with the chicken pocks , so that year Christmas was at New Years Day .

This year it's just going to be me , wife , daughter , son-n-law , grandson , very nice and quiet " I hope " .


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## paraquack (Mar 1, 2013)

Some will not believe and some will.
It was Christmas Eve, and I had been in bed for about 30 minutes, but sleep wasn't coming easy. I was too excited about Santa's arrival to fall asleep. Now I didn't really believe in Santa any more but letting my siblings and parents think I did, kept the fun presents coming, otherwise I knew I would only get clothes. I saw the kitchen light go on and heard the heavy footsteps of his father moving about. It was his father's custom to have a warm glass of milk every night. Shortly the light went out and I heard the footsteps fade as his father headed for the bedroom. I didn't know how long I lay there dreaming of what “Santa” might leave for him under the tree when he noticed the bedroom door open. In the dim light I could see a man's figure, his father. 
He approached my bed and sat down beside me. "Are you asleep?"
The voice belonged to Uncle Joe, my father's older brother. "No, I'm too excited, what are doing here?"
"I'm just passing through and thought I'd stop in. I brought you a present."
Excitedly I sat up, expecting him to give it to me right then and there. "Where is it," I asked excitedly.
"Later, it'll be under the tree."
I need to put this story on hold and explain a little of I's life and the special relationship he had with Uncle Joe. My father was a very abusive man. He covered all bases, physical, mental and verbal. His idea of a fun time was causing someone, usually family, pain or suffering, because anyone else wouldn't have tolerated his abuse. As an example, when I was about six years old, his father, an electrician, needed help with some wiring he was doing in the upstairs bedrooms he was rehabbing into an apartment. He handed me a length of wire that was missing about six inches of the insulation and told me to hang on tightly so he could pull on it. My little hands clamped on to that wire very tightly. I was so proud to be helping my father. I felt so grown up. The spasm that went up poor little my arms was indescribable as my hands released the wire and tried to fly away from my body. The sensation of the electricity was bad enough, but the terror of not knowing what had caused it was even worse. A second later I could hear my father laughing to himself. He had deliberately turned the power on to this wire as a joke. I stood there in utter disbelief of his cruelty as my tears cascaded down my cheeks. A few minutes later I could hear my father moving around and expected him to walk back to where I stood any second. I dried my tears as best as possible and ever so cautiously took hold of the wire again, but this time, but held it by the insulation but made it appear I was holding the bare wire. 
My father walked in seconds later and seemed surprised that I was still holding on to the wire. "Did you feel me pulling on it," he demanded.
"No, Papa."
Pushing me aside, he grabbed a hold of the wire. "Get downstairs, I’ll call when I need you again," he said gruffly. 
If I did something wrong that required corporal punishment, the punishment was by today's standards, criminal in nature.
Now maybe a year or so later, some member of the extended family was having a picnic and there must have been over 40 in attendance. I no longer remember what I did to gain my father's wrath that day. Grabbing me by the arm, his father spun me around. As I faced him, he had his hand raised to smack me into tomorrow. Instinctively I closed his eyes expecting his usual beating. But nothing happened. 
"What could he possibly have done to deserve that," my Uncle Joe asked. 
Opening my eyes, I saw Uncle Joe holding his brother's arm, staying the execution of my punishment. Uncle Joe was a little bigger than my father and held his arm fast as he tried to pull free to meet out my punishment. 
"Why don't you go get another beer and simmer down?" My father stormed off in a huff.
At that moment, I wished as hard as he could that this man would take me away from my father. Unfortunately he didn’t. However, during the next few years, Uncle Joe did more fatherly things for and with me. Fishing trips, a deer hunting trip, even a couple of camping trips were things that my father had no time for, but Uncle Joe made the time. Five years later Uncle Joe moved to North Carolina.
But I digress too far.
My uncle sat on the bed reminiscing about the past few years with me. He told me about his life in North Carolina and how he loved the temperate climate, never having to shovel snow any more. We probably talked for about an hour before Uncle Joe finally stood, saying he had to leave. Taking my hand, he gave it a squeeze, "Goodbye, don't know when I'll get a chance to see you again. You're a good boy, no matter what your dad says."
"Goodbye," I said getting to my knees on the bed to give him a hug. 
Uncle Joe hugged me back, turned and went out the door. 
I woke about 6:30 to the smell of bacon and eggs cooking and ran from my bedroom to see what lay beneath the tree with my name on it. Immediately I found one from my parents, since it didn't rattle, probably blue jeans I thought. Another said it was from Santa, but I couldn't guess what was concealed under the bright colored wrap. Still another was from all my older siblings. It rattled slightly, like plastic pieces, a toy I guessed maybe a model airplane. Lastly I found a present in bright silver wrap, with a red bow and ribbon. The tag said it was mine, but it had no giver's name. It had to be from Uncle Joe, it just had to be from him, I knew it. Opening presents in my family didn't occur til after Christmas service. It would be after 10:00 before I could see what all was under the tree. 
Christmas service was the usual singing and celebration of Christ's birth in the small rural church. My siblings, living at home, decide to walk home rather than ride in the station wagon. I, however wasn't so lucky, on the way home, my parents detoured to my grand-father's house and waited as he got ready to come to our house for Christmas dinner. I swore it was conspiracy to drive me to distraction. Finally we all bundled into the family wagon and headed home. 
After another delay of a half hour we all finally gathered around the Christmas tree and my oldest brother started passing out the gifts. Still I had to wait until all gifts had been passed out. With the banter of my siblings guessing what was inside their brightly wrapped boxes, it seemed to take forever. Finally, my father said they could start unwrapping gifts. But of course it was in order of age, so I was to be last as usual, as everything started with my father, then my mother, my oldest brother, etc.
Finally there was only one sister to go before I could unwrap his gifts. The gift I was most interested in was the one I was sure had been left by Uncle Joe. Just as his sister started to unwrap her gifts the phone rang. My oldest brother disappeared into the hallway to answer the phone. Finally my sister finished showing off her new sweater and blouse, so now it was finally my turn. Grabbing the small box in front of me, I slipped the bow off the side of it and ripped at the bright silver wrap. Inside was a folding knife. Uncle Joe had used one just like it during our fishing and camping trips. It performed so many chores, I somehow thought it was magical. As I opened the largest blade to inspect it, I realized from the wear on it, that it must be Uncle Joe's knife. 
My brother stepped back into the living room and stood silently for a moment. "That was Aunt Helen, Uncle Joe had a stroke last evening. They brought him back a couple of times, but he passed away about an hour ago. He’s gone." 
"But I talked with him last night, he can be gone, he can't," I screamed, as searing hot tears suddenly cascading down my cheeks.


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## A Watchman (Sep 14, 2015)

You don't mean them two ole' gals Sisson sent over from Tyler do ya ..... oh wait ... childhood huh ...


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## bigwheel (Sep 22, 2014)

Well my Daddy alway got big time drunk at Christmas and would get in a fight with my Mama. I remember one year I got a new Co2 pellet gun and my Mama had got mad and left. So I axe my Daddy...do you think it would hurt if I could see if my new pellet gun could shoot through the back door? He said sure...go for it. Well It did go right through the cheap door. So I found a piece of white tissue paper and some pancake syrup and glued up the hole before my Mama decided to come back home. She spotted the problem area right quick. She nagged over that for years.


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## SDF880 (Mar 28, 2013)

I just turned 5 a few weeks prior and was a little airplane nut, I loved anything planes!
Christmas day I opened my main gift and WOW a battery powered DC-7. The lights worked the props turned and it could
taxi across the carpet my eyes were wide and I was glowing. I fired this bad boy up and it moved about about a foot and died! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Didn't matter that was the best gift ever and I still savor that moment!


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## dwight55 (Nov 9, 2012)

bigwheel said:


> Well my Daddy alway got big time drunk at Christmas and would get in a fight with my Mama. I remember one year I got a new Co2 pellet gun and my Mama had got mad and left. So I axe my Daddy...do you think it would hurt if I could see if my new pellet gun could shoot through the back door? He said sure...go for it. Well It did go right through the cheap door. So I found a piece of white tissue paper and some pancake syrup and glued up the hole before my Mama decided to come back home. She spotted the problem area right quick. She nagged over that for years.


If me and you was brothers then, . . . I would have watched mom bust your rear end but big time, . . . with a branch (she called it a switch) off a cherry tree or a pear tree, . . . and OOOOOOHHHHHHH hhhhhh would your butt have hurt.

The pop would have fixed the door, . . . but only a patch, . . . never really "fixed", . . . just patched.

***************

My favorite was when I was about 14, . . . mom came up with the cash to get me a Kodak Brownie Hawkeye, . . . flash camera, . . . took 620 film, . . . and the big flashbulbs.

My first flash picture was of mom in the kitchen with her brand new Sunbeam Mixmaster. Even though the film was B&W, . . . the mixer came out in full living color, . . . cause it was black and white too. I still got the camera, . . . almost 60 years later, . . . and mom used her mixer up until she was beyond using it again.

Thanks, Cricket, . . . I had to stop and think about which one was the best, . . . and had to weigh them, . . . this is the one.

May God bless,
Dwight


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## bigwheel (Sep 22, 2014)

Thankfully since I was a change of life baby...and the baby of the family...with highly mellow parents..how do you speel a spoiled accident? I only got spanked at school. When I got home from school after getting beat they would feel sorry for me. Everybody should have cool parents like that huh? Now I did have to get a spanking when I beat up my cousin when we was his house...but my Daddy would take me in the bathroom and beat on the wall with his belt..and instruct me to cry. That cousin was a trouble making little bag o caca. Simpler times.


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## Robie (Jun 2, 2016)

My favorite memory.....hmmm...

I was lucky (I guess) that I grew up in a home as full of love and support as one can imagine. I was the youngest of four in an Air Force family. 

We weren't rich but we never went without the basics...Mom and Dad did, but the kids never did.

My favorite memory growing up is just one of being in the living room where the tree was decorated...all the other lights turned out except for the tree and window candles and being snuggled down in a chair or couch and taking it all in....all the smells, all the music, all the food...everything about it. I know I didn't identify it at the time but I do now looking back....all the security of knowing we were loved and happy.

I know...sounds pretty corny...but that's I remember.


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## A Watchman (Sep 14, 2015)

In another life .... my immediate family (wife and kids) would celebrate the secular version of Christmas a few days in advance and then load up on a plane, or even drive to a vacation spot. I loved waking up in a new environment on Christmas day smelling the fresh fragrances and spending the day just celebrating the birth of God's only begotten son. Had some awesome mornings in Vail, Cayman, and others.


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## bigwheel (Sep 22, 2014)

SDF880 said:


> I just turned 5 a few weeks prior and was a little airplane nut, I loved anything planes!
> Christmas day I opened my main gift and WOW a battery powered DC-7. The lights worked the props turned and it could
> taxi across the carpet my eyes were wide and I was glowing. I fired this bad boy up and it moved about about a foot and died! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
> Didn't matter that was the best gift ever and I still savor that moment!


Nice gift. You musta been a highly spoiled little rich kid..lol. Bet that cost a pay check or two for the Santa who worked the po white trash oil patch kids.


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## bigwheel (Sep 22, 2014)

A Watchman said:


> In another life .... my immediate family (wife and kids) would celebrate the secular version of Christmas a few days in advance and then load up on a plane, or even drive to a vacation spot. I loved waking up in a new environment on Christmas day smelling the fresh fragrances and spending the day just celebrating the birth of God's only begotten son. Had some awesome mornings in Vail, Cayman, and others.


What kinda guns and drugs was you peddling back in them days?


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## A Watchman (Sep 14, 2015)

bigwheel said:


> What kinda guns and drugs was you peddling back in them days?


Getting up early and staying late.... all 7 days in the week.


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## Prepared One (Nov 5, 2014)

bigwheel said:


> Well my Daddy alway got big time drunk at Christmas and would get in a fight with my Mama. I remember one year I got a new Co2 pellet gun and my Mama had got mad and left. So I axe my Daddy...do you think it would hurt if I could see if my new pellet gun could shoot through the back door? He said sure...go for it. Well It did go right through the cheap door. So I found a piece of white tissue paper and some pancake syrup and glued up the hole before my Mama decided to come back home. She spotted the problem area right quick. She nagged over that for years.


My Dad did the same thing. Got drunk and fell into the tree decorating it. Brother and I would get up next morning there would be broken bulbs on the floor, tree half lit and crooked, and the rest of the lights spread all over. If they had a Christmas eve party? there would be unknown bodies on the couch and in the chairs. :vs_laugh: My brother and I didn't care as long as the presents were in tact.


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## Inor (Mar 22, 2013)

I too grew up in a great family. The problem was, my mom was the worst cook ever!

On Christmas morning, my dad and I would get up early and go out for breakfast. After breakfast, we would usually stop by an old run down pool hall and shoot a few games for a few hours. The smell of stale cigar smoke was preferable to smells of chemicals and burning flesh that were wafting from my mom's kitchen.

Dad and I would get back home about noon or 1PM just as the rest of the family was starting to show up. We would all sit down and eat a very large and not very good supper. If we were having a lucky year, we generally had about 2 hours after supper to open presents and have a few laughs. If it was an unlucky year, the diarrhea started immediately. The house I grew up in only had one bathroom at the time, and with a house full of people all being overcome at the same time, there was a lot time to be spent sitting around writhing in pain as our intestines rejected the poison.

It was during lulls in activity that Grandpa Inor (who had a cast iron stomach and was the only one who never got sick from mom's cooking) would regale us all with his stories of the Vietnam War protestors he had punched the previous week.

Since I was the youngest member of our family, I was usually one of the last ones to use the bathroom. By then, the entire back half of the house was a contamination zone and I had to hold my breath the whole time.

Other than that, the holidays were a great time to be a member of my family.


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## A Watchman (Sep 14, 2015)

^^^^^^ ain't that the shits?


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## SDF880 (Mar 28, 2013)

bigwheel said:


> Nice gift. You musta been a highly spoiled little rich kid..lol. Bet that cost a pay check or two for the Santa who worked the po white trash oil patch kids.


Far from it! Dad worked for the airline and had some discount connections to get one for me. Dad and i never really got along at all thru the years but that
was one of those good moments! He's long gone and that is probably my best memory from young days!


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## bigwheel (Sep 22, 2014)

Prepared One said:


> My Dad did the same thing. Got drunk and fell into the tree decorating it. Brother and I would get up next morning there would be broken bulbs on the floor, tree half lit and crocked, and the rest of the lights spread all over. If they had a Christmas eve party? there would be unknown bodies on the couch and in the chairs. :vs_laugh: My brother and I didn't care as long as the presents were in tact.


Sounds like we was raised a lot alike Sir.


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## 8301 (Nov 29, 2014)

Sneaking down the stairs with my little brother about age 10 or 11 and watching my older brothers try to assemble a 7' tall giant tinker toy man. It collapsed on then at least twice.
Good memories.

Some of you guys must have had some rough Christmases. We weren't perfect, members of the family could be rough to each other, but for Christmas we all chose to forget any grievances for a few days and it was special.

Cricket, thanks for making me remember. @Cricket


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## Slippy (Nov 14, 2013)

John Galt said:


> ....
> 
> Cricket, thanks for making me remember. @Cricket


Yeah, thanks @Cricket for making me remember too...now I remember the year that my parents forgot my birthday. Thanks...lain:


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## A Watchman (Sep 14, 2015)

I've no sad tales to tell, nothing stands out as my parents were pretty predictable at Christmas. It was all good, my Dad was a part time minister, and did well for us kids on the big day. Ya got clothes on your Birthday, got stiffed the rest of the year ... but Christmas my parents rocked. It was always a celebration of the love of Jesus in our house.


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## Moonshinedave (Mar 28, 2013)

Be hard to beat my first BB gun, a Daisy lever action, it held about 500 bbs. No, I didn't shoot my eye out, although it was a wonder. I was probably about seven or eight.


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## sideKahr (Oct 15, 2014)

My favorite memory you may find strange. My family and I always built an 'underground' to the Christmas tree, trains and a little town and such, on a four by eight piece of plywood in front of our back door. What was really cool, was that we never locked that door. It didn't even have a lock. Things were different then.


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## hag (May 19, 2016)

Since the whole family was together on the holidays, we would almost certainly kill a few hogs on thanksgiving and Christmas days. The old timers would tell stories about how they "used to do it" and us kids would try to hurry up and get done so we could go play. I wish I would have paid more attention to those stories. 
In those days the warehouse owners would give everyone a free bottle of bourbon when you sold tobacco and my uncle Harold would drink it to stay warm as we worked. He always got drunk and there was a 50/50 chance that he was gonna wind up falling in the scalding pot! That was ALWAYS FUNNY! 
That tradition is still alive and well in our family and the old timers live on too as we now tell the stories of how we "used to do it" to our kids and nieces and nephews


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## Inor (Mar 22, 2013)

hag said:


> Since the whole family was together on the holidays, we would almost certainly kill a few hogs on thanksgiving and Christmas days. The old timers would tell stories about how they "used to do it" and us kids would try to hurry up and get done so we could go play. I wish I would have paid more attention to those stories.
> In those days the warehouse owners would give everyone a free bottle of bourbon when you sold tobacco and my uncle Harold would drink it to stay warm as we worked. He always got drunk and there was a 50/50 chance that he was gonna wind up falling in the scalding pot! That was ALWAYS FUNNY!
> That tradition is still alive and well in our family and the old timers live on too as we now tell the stories of how we "used to do it" to our kids and nieces and nephews


THAT is the PERFECT American family Christmas! God Bless you and yours Hag!


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## admin (Apr 28, 2016)

When I was young, the Christmas season was a huge deal. It always involved a ton of family, food and presents. It was pretty crazy at times and had very little to do with what Christmas was really about. It was more about who got what and almost always ended up in family fights that lasted for years.

In my early teens, my daddy decided that enough was enough, and it was time to return to the basics.

For several years after that, the week of Christmas was spend at our very basic cabin out in the woods. The bathroom was an outhouse outdoors, and the stove was a wood cook stove. The tree was small and dug up, so that it could be planted in the yard after the holidays were over. We made all the decorations by hand. He enforced a very limited budget for gifts, so most ended up being handmade. I am sure there was a lot of grumbling initially, but those years, ended up being my favorite memories.


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## Arklatex (May 24, 2014)

When we were young my brother and I would try to catch Santa. One year we set out all kinds of traps for him. The next day my grandpa got caught in the one by the back door. We had left marbles on the floor and the old man ended up slipping and busting his butt! We'd never seen a man so pissed off! Surprisingly we didn't even get a whipping for it and the story lived on for years afterwards. And every year after the grandparents made a big deal to thoroughly check the house for traps.


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## A Watchman (Sep 14, 2015)

Arklatex said:


> When we were young my brother and I would try to catch Santa. One year we set out all kinds of traps for him. The next day my grandpa got caught in the one by the back door. We had left marbles on the floor and the old man ended up slipping and busting his butt! We'd never seen a man so pissed off! Surprisingly we didn't even get a whipping for it and the story lived on for years afterwards. And every year after the grandparents made a big deal to thoroughly check the house for traps.


Now I don't care who you are .... that's pretty darn funny.


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