My inspiration for this post came from my dear, longtime blogging friend, Debbie @ Musings by an ND Domer's Mom, who is not only a gifted...
.jpg)
This time of the year always brings back such fond childhood memories for me.
I feel very blessed having had parents who took great pleasure in seeing that their children had a magical Christmas. Our home was always alive and festive with decorations, Christmas records playing, food cooking, and lots of friends and family.
However, one thing that did NOT thrill my father about this holiday was having to hang Christmas lights on the outside of our house.
First of all, no matter how careful we were in packing them away the previous year, the strands of lights always came out of the box tangled in gargantuan KNOTS; therefore, my father had to detangle them.
That's when I first realized my father's favorite word was, "SHIT...SHIT...SHIT!"
And after the painstaking process of detangling, we would stretch each strand out on the lawn and then plug them in to check for any burned out bulbs. And if there were, we replaced them before we hung them.
Since my father didn’t own a staple gun, each strand had to be hammered around the windowpanes and the along the edges of the house, using treacherous-looking nails that resembled vampire fangs. Like this...
My dad also had a fear of heights; therefore, whenever he had to climb the ladder, he would always get this wide-eyed, panicked look on his face and nervously whistle Frank Sinatra songs. Whistling always meant that he was about to step on a ladder.
But like the devoted father he was, he would reverently make the sign of the cross; start whistling; and climbed the ladder despite his fear.
My job was to stand below the ladder and hold it firmly so it wouldn’t wiggle.
After the lights were hung, we’d go in the house and wait. As soon as it got dark, the whole family would run outside and stand at the edge of the driveway, as my father turned on the Christmas lights from a switch inside the foyer.
And as the house was suddenly illuminated, we’d all start jumping up and down; clapping and screaming...
.jpg) |
| *not my actual family home |
Oh, what an adrenaline RUSH that was!
It's one of those memories that even today still makes me smile.
It was a magical Christmas moment!
However, I would also like to share another Christmas memory of something that I did as a child, just because I was bored and felt like being bad.
Sometimes, while my parents were out for the evening, I would sneak over to one of the neighboring homes and hide in the bushes until I was absolutely sure no one could see me. And then, using my mittens, I'd unscrew random Christmas bulbs from all over the outside of their house and placed them into my coat pockets. And after I got a substantial amount, I ran back to my house.
Oh, and this is the best part….
I would take each bulb and throw it high into the air and then waited in glorious anticipation to hear it hit the street and POP!
POP!…POP!…POP!...POP!...POP!
OMG, it was so much fun, I can’t even tell you!
I felt like such a little devil.
But sadly (and regretfully), those were the years I received only a few lumps of COAL...
------------------------------------------------
I would like to conclude this post with a photograph I found online that perfectly depicts how people looked when they had their picture taken back in the 50s. Did you ever notice that no one ever smiled in photographs? Everyone looked soooooo serious; even the kids. Instead of being all pumped up for the camera, they FROZE like statues. That poor guy on the far left in this photo looks so uptight that he's gritting his teeth.
Instead of a cheery Christmas photo, this looks more like a police lineup.
Here, look...
Like this one -- (me and my longtime blogging pal, Val, who met up in front of the Philadelphia Regional Rail Station last month)...
*Val, thanks so much for sending me this photo and for a fabulous day. It was so great seeing you again! 💗
🎄Wishing all of you a VERY Merry Christmas! 🎅
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)