i spend the night with my family watching old movies

It’s always been a toss-up between
Halloween and Christmas at our house.
Some of the children favored one, some
the other. My favorite holiday events
have been my children’s Christmas band
and choir concerts. Now I include my
grandchildren’s concerts, especially my
oldest granddaughter’s orchestra concerts.

Pat Cochran

My favorite holiday is christmas. Early in the morning on the 25th my mom would have my little wake me up & my 4 other sisters. Saying wake up it’s christmas. Time to open presents. I thought it was so cute my little sister jumping on our bed as my mom standing there laughing. Also on christmas eve we wait till 12 a.m. and we all open one present each and the rest in the morning. All I can say now is my little sister isn’t little no more *G* But I still remember these times like it was yesterday.

Hugssss
LindaH

My grandfather was thrilled and kept smiling the whole time we were there and showing us around the place. It was a great time. But what makes this holiday so special is that a few weeks later on New Years Eve my grandfather died unexpectedly in an auto accident. That Thanksgiving trip was the last time I ever got to see him alive.

At the funeral, his sister kept telling us how he had called after Thanksgiving and was so happy we had all came…she said he mentioned it every time they talked after that. It meant so much to him…and to me…that was a very special holiday.

My mother has always made bread. White, Wheat, Onion, rolls, buns and sometimes even sourdough. For the holidays she usually baked something unique or special. Hot crossed buns for Easter, and the year this happened she made Challah which the way she made it was a huge braided round loaf. It was probably sixteen inches across and maybe 10 inches tall. Massive loaf of bread. She cut it in half then sliced the half into manageble pieces. The other half she left on the cutting board in the kitchen by the fridge.

Family dinners in those days usually had 12 - 20 people and this year I think everyone showed up. We had the normal raucous dinner and when it was done we cleaned up the dishes, put away the leftovers and packed away our care packages to take home. About this time Mom noticed that the other half of the Challah was missing. Gone. Vanished. This was a five pound loaf of bread. No one could have smuggled it out under their coat and it would have been sticking out of the trash can if it had been tossed. I suppose someone might have come in the back door while we were eating and taken it, but really, this is suburbia. People don’t break in in the middle of a holiday dinner to steal half a loaf of bread. We never did figure out where the Challah went but in the years since then anytime something goes missing in my mothers house we just assume that it’s gone to be with the Challah. Somewhere in an alternate universe that Challah is holding court with my mother’s watch, dozens of single socks, my car keys etc.

We’re getting ready to move my parents into a condo and out of their big old house in the suburbs. I halfway expect the Challah to mysteriously appear to see them off.

Gretchen

When my brother and I were 7 and 4 respectively, my mother called us into a spare room late at night on Halloweeen. She asked us if we saw something in the backyard. Brother and I looked, saw something glowing…then it began to move!

Backing away from the window, we grew scared and asked our mother what it was. She, wanted us to find out because she was “scared” too.

The glowing object moved closer and closer to the house. It was getting bigger, clearer to see. A fierce looking floating pumpkin was coming after us.

The pumpkin started moving faster, closing in on the window we were staring out of when it vanished right before our eyes.

Leaning closer to the window, my brother and I wondered where it went. Before Mother could respond, the pumpkin shot up, into the frame of the window.

My brother and I screamed and ran into the kitchen. Mother followed, trying to calm us down. Then, tap-tap-tap. Someone…or something was knocking on the side kitchen door.

I, being the elder sibling decided to take charge and find out what was after us. Though my little heart was pounding, I tip-toed to the door and pulled it back.

My father and his best friend shoved the pumpkin into the house for one final fright and didn’t stop laughing until my brother and I went to bed.

Nice parents, huh?

My favorite holiday memory/tradition actually involves a novel. I remember being a young kid reading lots of different books, some a little advanced for someone at the age of eight. I loved Shogun, Ulysses, War and Peace, Gone with the Wind.

I remember my step father telling me about Charles Dickens and I had tried a few of his books but nothing held my interest. That Christmas, however, he presented me with a copy of A Christmas Carol.

I remember the feel of the cloth bound hard cover, the gold gilded edges of the pages. I remember the smell of that book, the creek of the spine as I opened it.

I read it all through in two sittings. The snow was falling outside and I was full with Christmas food, but for me the real wonder was in the story. I was entranced by Scrooge and The Three Ghosts of Christmas.

I then went on to read everything Dickens had ever written. But A Christmas Carol remains my favorite.

Now, when the snow starts to fall, I bring out that old and battered copy of A Christmas Carol and remember the first time I read it. I am always transported back to that day when I read those first words:

“Marley was dead: to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. The register of his burial was signed by the clergyman, the clerk, the undertaker, and the chief mourner. Scrooge signed it: and Scrooge’s name was good upon ‘Change, for anything he chose to put his hand to. Old Marley was as dead as a door-nail.”

Each year I look forward to reading A Christmas Carol and each year it is as if I am discovering the words anew.