Christmas was.....

Christmas was different when my mom was a child. My grandfather would put up the tree on Christmas Eve after the kids were asleep. Late into the evening he decorated the tree and wrapped presents. In the morning the kids would awaken to a beautiful tree, which to them had magically appeared along with the presents from Santa.

Christmas was watching my grandfather decorate the house when I was a child. He would save the tin tops from all of the cans he opened through out the year. After cleaning them he would punch a hole in each one. In the front yard were several trees, after hanging lights in them he would hang all of the can lids. The lids would than reflect all of the color creating a beautiful glowing display for the neighborhood to enjoy.

Grandpa would never put the tree up immediately after purchasing it. He would place it in water and study it for a day or two. He would than remove branches from areas that were overcrowded. Not one to waste anything he would than drill holes in the trunk and replace the branches filling in what was once a bare area.

Once the tree was perfect he placed it in its stand and spent two days decorating. Ensuring that each light was perfectly placed, each ornament was correctly hung and tinsel was strategically place on all of the branches.

His final touch would be an old Lionel Electric Train Set that circled his tree for many years. I used to lie on the carpet and watch that locomotive circle the tree for hours. Sadly when I was nine years old the transformer gave up the ghost and the train was put away forever.

Christmas was a sock monkey, Lincoln Logs, Hardy Boy mysteries, a robot with flashing eyes that shot rockets out of its right arm, itchy sweaters and stockings full of nuts, oranges, candy and various toys.

Christmas was preparing for the big day by helping my Nana make cookie cutouts and eating enough raw dough to make me sick.

Christmas was having to sing for all my relatives before dinner when I was in the first grade.

Christmas was attending midnight mass with Nana. In a darkened church lit only by the candles carried in by the choir while they sang Silent Night. The air thick with the smell of incense, cologne and perfume blending into wonderful new scents. Everyone paying close attention, transfixed by the priests reading about the birth of the Christ Child. Upon leaving the church the air cold and crisp one could almost believe that the world was a peaceful place.

Christmas was my mothers home made cinnamon rolls fresh out of the oven and served with hot chocolate. It was the smell of her turkey with all of the trimmings. Dessert was always Applesauce Cake and Pumpkin Pie both homemade and to die for.

Christmas was all of the above and so much more.