We went to church on Christmas Eve. As kids, we’d be anxious in anticipation of Santa Claus’ arrival so hardly paid attention to the sermon. Santa would finally show up at the service and all was well and exciting. I don’t remember him bringing presents though – just him being there was good.
I remember the most prized present was lace up boots – came up over your calf. We were too poor so I never got any.
The rich kids’ parents bought sleds for their kids from a store. We had to build our own sleds. I remember screwing in the screws to put steering in and to attach the barrel slats to each other.
We used to sled down that big street on a hill to school with two or more kids on a sled. We loved it when the streets were icy.
The adults used to do just the wrong thing – they’d pour hot water on the ice to get it to melt. Instead, to their dismay and our delight, it gave us more ice.
There was a big bump towards the end and kids would go flying everywhere. After flying over the bump, there was only a small opening in the fence and if you missed it, it hurt.
That’s why you tried to get someone bigger and cushier on the bottom so they could soften the landing.
For Christmas, Dad often got us each an orange. I never saw an orange except at Christmas. I ate the whole thing. I mean seeds, rind, and all.
Dad used to give us one bullet only and we had to shoot a squirrel for supper – only one chance. Makes for a little more keen attention to detail and not taking a shot unless it was a great one.
c. GCYI