NOTE--To see an on-line version of this newsletter, copy this link and paste it into your web browser: http://www.reminisce.com/rd.asp?id=95&firstname=$$firstname$$&emailaddress=$$email$$&refurl=$$refurl-link$$ Please do not reply to this email. If you have questions or wish to unsubscribe, see the instructions at the bottom of this email. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ REMINISCE Newsletter - December 2006 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Dear $$firstname$$, The holiday season is here, so we’ve packed your December E-Newsletter with shining Christmas memories from readers. Enjoy...and our best wishes to you from the Reminisce staff! In this issue: --> Oh, Christmas Tree --> Poem: Memorabilia --> Favorite Christmas --> Ad from the Old Days --> “Getting Older” Humor --> BB Gun Christmas --> Joke of the Month --> A Thought to Remember ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Oh, Christmas Tree ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ When I was a child, my family operated a nursery in southern Ohio. Fields of evergreens and shrubs stretched for a half-mile behind our house. I loved to roam among the fat white spruce and tall Norway spruce destined for the Christmas trade. These evergreens were sold live, balled and put in burlap, ready to be replanted after the holidays. I believe the price was around $5.00. It was exciting to pick the most beautiful tree for our own use and help set it up in a tub in the northwest corner of the living room, where its sweet fragrance drifted through the house. My husband Art recalls even more exciting Christmas activities at the home of his Grandma Smith in Traverse City, Michigan. She had grown up with Christmas trees lit by candles and insisted on following the tradition into her old age. Her bachelor son, Uncle Carl, fastened the candle holders with spring clips to the branches of the tree and lit the candles, while Art’s father, her disapproving son-in-law, stood at the ready with a bucket of water and an eye on the nearest exit. The candle holders are now packed away in our attic, probably valuable antiques. We do not venture to use them. In the late 1950s, as a young mother of five small girls, I enjoyed helping Art choose our tree from the hillsides of the Bristol Valley, a beautiful area in the Finger Lakes region of upstate New York. The whole family participated, including Molly, our young golden retriever. Up the hill we climbed, pulling a sled through the snow—there was always snow—until we reached a veritable forest of balsam firs. When we found the perfect one, Art sawed it off, loaded it on the sled, and we all bounded down the hill in a flurry of snowflakes and delight. Our gingerbread tree was one the whole family remembers. One year, I decided to decorate the tree with gingerbread men, and the girls and I spent a whole day baking and frosting an army of cookies. There were plenty of leftover pieces for the girls to enjoy, so they didn’t seem to mind my stern admonition: ““Don’t touch the gingerbread men on the tree!” The older children, and even the dog, heeded my warning. But Kathy, our toddler, followed the letter of the law but not the spirit. I came downstairs the next morning to find her serenely seated beneath the tree, her hands in her lap, her head tipped up, nibbling away at the lowest gingerbread men. They finished their duty minus their legs. Our children are grown and gone, establishing Christmas customs of their own, and each season, Art and I consider the option—maybe we should get an artificial tree this year. There are certainly advantages, and I admire the ease with which my friends whip out a box and lo, the bottle-brush branches are transformed into a quite presentable tree. I’ve recently noted ads for fully decorated artificial trees for $159.99, which I consider carrying convenience to a ridiculous—and extravagant— extreme. But for Art and me, there is something irresistible about a real live tree—the fun in choosing it, carrying it home, positioning it just right in the stand, and smelling the magical fragrance that permeates the house. My decorations are pretty simple now. Heaven forbid gingerbread men, and heaven knows where my box of ornaments has disappeared. Now miniature lights are the only ornament, and they are beautiful. Art says the tree should go up a week before Christmas and come down on New Year’s day. He claims it’s an old Druid custom, and to be authentic, he really would like to burn it. I have persuaded him that the local fire department would not make allowances, even for an old Druid, so instead we put the tree on its side below the kitchen window near the bird feeders. All winter long, the birds shelter there. If I look out at dawn I sometimes see a whole procession of birds emerging from the branches and hopping out along the trunk. Oh, Christmas tree—how lovely are your branches! By Jeane Knapp ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Poem: Memorabilia ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Memorabilia By N.J. Sexton ‘Hound Dog’ lipstick, 45’s Pink Cadillacs and smooth hand jive Coke machines and bottles, too ‘Liz’ eyelashes and sweet perfume. Cookie jars of Mickey Mouse Tom ’n’ Jerry and Santa’s House, Huey, Dewey, Louie, wheeee! Popeye, Pluto, Stooges, three All these things we still collect Memories we can’t forget. Things that made our lives such fun We pack and stack them, one by one. A poodle skirt and saddle shoes A wide cinch belt and pop-beads, too. Photoplay and Modern Screen Told the tales of movie queens. Black and whites, like RCA Phonographs with monoplay 78’s and 33’s Sure bring back old memories. Bobby socks and blue suede shoes Convertibles in reds and blues Drive-in movies, wide-screen size Hamburgers, pop and hot french fries ‘Gidget’ films with Sandra Dee Annette and Frankie, Bobby V. Fabian, Dion, high-school bells, American Bandstand, Bobby Rydell Oh, the days when these were new, Rock ‘n’ Roll and dreams come true Memorabilia, it is today, But we lived it in those good old days. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ My Favorite Christmas Memories ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ By Mary Jo Patrick When I was young, we lived on a small farm. Even though Mom and Dad had four daughters, I was blessed most of all with memories of this wonderful chapter in my life. I was the oldest so I remember more about everything that happened. Dad wasn’t rich my any means—he had eighty acres of farmland and some chickens and dairy cows. We lived in an old farmhouse that was drafty in the winter, but Mom’s kitchen was always warm and filled with love, friendly chatter and good food. I was her helper as far back as I can remember. She told me I learned my nursery rhymes at her elbow. I loved to cook and bake and still do to this day. For Christmas, we made cut-out cookies and decorated them with different colors of frosting and sprinkles. There was an enameled kitchen table that held all kinds of candies and other cookies. Every Christmas, we had turkey and all the trimmings. One special memory is getting tangerines, which was a real treat in our home. We always had a live Christmas tree trimmed with homemade ornaments and strings of colored bulbs with big silver reflectors. There was an old pink cellophane stocking that held peanuts tucked somewhere in the branches. Wreaths were hung in the windows and Christmas carols echoed throughout our home. I remember one Christmas, we had two cats that would come in the house occasionally. One day, they were playing tag and ran right up the middle of the tree. It was a miracle that it did not tip over, nor did any ornaments get broken. Mom chided them and put them outside. She was so even-tempered and gentle. When I was ten, I received one of my favorite gifts of all time. It was a tiny Tears doll complete with clothes, bottles, a blanket and diaper bag. She cried real tears! Oh what joy was mine that day and for years to come. I still have her, minus one or two fingers. I love her as much today as the first time I held her close. Try to imagine four little girls lying in their beds on Christmas Eve discussing what Santa might bring to each one. It was a night filled with secrets, whispering and sweet dreams. It was truly the longest night of the year! Christmas wouldn’t be complete without a visit to my grandparents. One set lived in town and the other on a farm. It was like being in two separate worlds when going to their homes. I had so many cousins, and we had tons of fun. We always stuffed ourselves and played with our new gifts. My uncle dressed as Santa and distributed presents to us at my grandparents’ rural home. We couldn’t imagine how he came in broad daylight to deliver those gifts! Last, but not least, was the Christmas program at church. It was usually songs and speaking parts by the kids’ Sunday School classes. One year when I was in high school, I directed the Christmas pageant. It was the traditional Christmas story, with children of the church appropriately dressed as the characters in the story. There was also music and speaking parts. After the program I felt like I was on cloud nine because I had undertaken this task and it went well. Santa had visited Sunday morning service too, and handed little bags of candy to each person. All winter long as we sledded down the big hill behind the barn or played with our dolls, we had pleasant memories of our Christmas. There is a saying that money can’t buy happiness, and it’s true. Mom and Dad always gave us a wonderful Christmas, even though money was short at times. I have a wealth of memories to last a lifetime! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Ad From the Old Days-1958 Gruen Watches ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ http://www.reminisce.com/RD.asp?ID=100&pmcode=$$refurl-link$$ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “Getting Older” Humor ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ http://www.reminisce.com/RD.asp?ID=101&pmcode=$$refurl-link$$ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ BB-Gun For Christmas ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ By Neal Murphy In the late ’60s, our family lived in Houston, Texas. Christmas was always a hectic time for us. My parents lived in St. Augustine, which was a three-hour drive north. One year as we visited there, Santa had bought our young son a BB gun. Although my wife and I weren’t too happy about this, since he was so young, we did not want to spoil his Grandparents’ gift. So, I took him outside to teach him the safe procedures in handling the gun. He seemed to listen carefully and comprehend what I was teaching him. Several hours later, I went back out to check on him and his new present. My parents had decorated their front porch, yard and fence with large Christmas lights. To my dismay, my son had shot out most of these light bulbs. I took him inside to “fess up” about what he had done. He apologized to his grandmother, and she just hugged him, and said, “Gosh, he really is a good shot.” It was difficult for me to stay mad at him for long, because I, too, remembered when I got my first BB gun so many years before. In fact, one could’ve looked at the outside garage wall of my parents’ home and see the evidence. I perfected a game where I stood about 10 feet away from the wall and waited for flies to land on it. Then I’d shoot at them! I didn’t hit every fly, but every BB left a dent in the wood. The evidence was destroyed, however, when dad decided to upgrade to vinyl siding. My son never shot at Christmas lights again, but he remains a good shot to this day. As a police officer in North Carolina, he has had a lot of good training, some even from his ol’ dad. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Joke of the Month: ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ A woman was looking for a new outfit at the mall. “I don’t know much about fashion,” she told the sales clerk. “The only fashion statement I’ve ever made is: ‘I can’t afford it’.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ A Thought to Remember: ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “You can’t get much done by starting tomorrow.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ This email was sent to: $$email$$ HAVE A FRIEND who enjoys the good old days? Feel free to forward this newsletter! If this newsletter was forwarded to you, please use this link to sign up for yourself. http://www.reminisce.com/RD.asp?ID=99&pmcode=$$refurl-link$$ Please do not reply to this message to unsubscribe. 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