by Donna Swagerty Shreve
The Christmas of 1952 stands out from the rest from my childhood memories. We were living on Kern Avenue in Escalon, California. I was seven years old and in second grade. The magic of Santa was in full bloom. The excitement leading up to Christmas was all around. I had a four-year old brother and one year old sister and we had been taken to see Santa at some department store in Stockton. I wanted a cowgirls’ outfit complete with gun and holster, hat, boots, and especially the vest and skirt.
I had written my letter to Santa with great pride and promise and I had told him in person. I was convinced it was a done deal. Now all I had to do was to endure the long wait until Christmas morning. Meanwhile my mother was in a big quandary. She could not find a cowgirl outfit in my size locally. She had searched Escalon and Modesto. She had tried to get me to want something else but to no avail. I kept telling her not to worry about it because Santa Claus was giving it to me. When the long wait was finally over, I opened a beautiful cowgirl outfit that was just the right size.
My mother had finally gone, in desperation, into the big town of Stockton. She found an appropriate outfit that just happened to be several sizes too large. She had spent part of Christmas Eve using her sewing machine to downsize the costume to fit me. I rewarded her the next morning by turning to her and proclaiming, ”See I told you Santa would give this to me!”
The next Christmas, I found presents under the tree, already wrapped from Santa, several days before the event. The name-tags were in my mother’s handwriting. I thought she was either being lazy or just too obvious. She warned me not to tell my younger siblings or I would ruin Santa for everyone and he would not come any more. When my youngest brother came along, the three of us older siblings tried to keep him believing forever.
I remember another Christmas from our Escalon home. Brian was five years old and Uncle Ronnie and Dad decided he was old enough for his first train set. Dad and Uncle Ronnie spent a lot of time setting up the track on plywood and displaying the train by the Christmas tree. Christmas morning arrived and the two grown men waited patiently for Brian to discover his awesome new present; Brian was not impressed. The men decided he needed to see the train in action. The engine had a smoke stack and when the fuel was added, the train made quite a noise and spewed big clouds of black smoke. Once the train was launched Brian’s reaction was to cry in fear. He wanted nothing to do with his toy that was delighting his father and uncle.
One Christmas at our Calhoun home, maybe 1960, Mom and Dad wrapped up four presents all the same large size. We were told we had all gotten the same present. What on earth could I want that my younger siblings also wanted? We were certainly curious and were told to open them at the same time instead of the usual taking turns from youngest to oldest. We all unwrapped electric blankets and we were not thrilled. Mom had a habit of being too practical with Christmas presents. Her father had usually given her some money and told her to go out and find a present for herself. The one time her father gave her a present she treasured it. It was a big heavy red metal fire truck. The truck wasn’t exactly what she would have bought but the importance of the gift was that he had bought it for her. The irony to me was that Mom was the worst one of any of us squeezing and shaking any presents that were for her under the tree.
Another Christmas the three younger siblings got their own bicycles. I had a one-speed fat tire wonder that I forced the one and half miles to school every day when it wasn’t raining. I was a bit envious as my present was a new bathrobe. Luckily for me, my younger sister’s bike was way too large for her. I was given her bicycle and she had to wait until Dad and Mom could get to the store after Christmas to get her a bike her size. My now new bike had skinny tires and three speeds. I was thrilled. My sister to this day is upset I got her bike.
My brother remembers when he knew Santa wasn’t real. Dad had a dear friend named Stu Larson who thought he could add to our Christmas. We were having Christmas Eve dinner when there was a knock at the door and loud jingling of bells. Someone answered the door and Santa walked in with a pillow-case full of toys. For some reason Stu decided to disguise his voice with a very fake Swedish accent. I remember being very amused but Brian was now coming up with real questions about who was really Santa.
If we were naughty we were told there would be a raw potato in our stocking instead of presents. None of us knew what a lump of coal even looked like. When Christmas was at the Dwight Way house, Grant, my youngest sibling, decided he would be in charge of the stockings. The stockings had stopped when he could no longer convince my parents he believed in Santa. He got up early and put up stockings with a raw potato in each one. It turns out Grant was carrying on with a stunt Brian started a few years before.
Picking out our Christmas tree was a big deal. We went out to the lots as a family of six. We got to vote on our favorite choice. Mom usually wanted a real fancy tree with flocking if possible. Dad was much more into a tree with spaces between limbs so all of the ornaments could be seen. Dad’s choice usually won as most of the kids sided with Dad. Mom finally got her type of tree when some of us had left the house and she could get her way.
One Christmas at the Calhoun house, Dad had us make popcorn and cranberry garlands for the tree. We sat around the kitchen table and strung endless garlands. It seemed to take forever but it did make our tree quite special that year. Dad had many Christmas traditions from his childhood. He passed them down to us. Mom had never had any holiday traditions, as her father didn’t really celebrate them with his children. Mom’s father was raising two young children solo and was constantly working at his diner. Somehow Christmas was a woman’s thing and he couldn’t be bothered.
Mom wanted Christmas Eve to be the big celebration. I have a feeling she didn’t want to rush Christmas morning when we had to leave after breakfast and join the rest of my father’s family in Hughson. We had a special dinner Christmas Eve followed by us kids getting the dishes done in record time. We then had to wait our turns as we watched each other unwrap the presents. Santa’s gift and stocking were done Christmas morning. For several years Christmas day meant a trip to Great-grandmother’s for a Christmas potluck dinner. Traveling to a neighboring town was not what any of kids wanted to do or my mother either but Dad prevailed with his family traditions. That dinner and celebration was held in the social hall at the local Hughson Methodist church. A long-standing tradition at Aldrich Christmas celebrations was a talent show by the grandchildren. Mom did not have us participate but other second cousins did and there was always a show to watch. I was grateful Mom didn’t push us to participate. We had to dress up and be on our best behavior as best manners only were on display at Great grandmother Aldrich’s place. Interesting to me is that my brother and his family have a talent show each Christmas morning after the presents are unwrapped. All unmarried children are required to come up with some type of entertainment. Wouldn’t Great Grandmother be amazed!
When John and I started our family, we combined his traditions with mine. Christmas Eve was now spent at my mother’s home. Christmas morning became our private celebration with just our nuclear family. John could not imagine the main celebration being Christmas Eve. For many years I filmed Christmas morning for John’s parents. I would send the cassette to them in Texas and then they would send it back. I would add it to our family film collection that chronicled each year.
The first years when we had begun our family, Christmas was celebrated in El Paso where John’s parents lived. John’s father was a gruff stern man but he came into his own during Christmas. Jack shopped all year. Then he laid out quite a display of presents for the children Christmas morning. We almost had to rent a trailer to bring home all of the toys one year. That was probably the year Jack got Aaron, our oldest, a complete three quarter scale drum set. Aaron was three and I was not thrilled to be lugging the drums home so I could be tortured. I guess that is one of thrills of being a grandparent.
Brad received his famous stuffed monkey in El Paso before he was one year old. That monkey was larger than he was. He finally gave her up in fifth grade. Monkey had never been allowed to leave the house but monkey slept with Brad for about ten years.
The trip to El Paso was tough for little boys and the mother who over saw as the father drove the twenty-four hours. Out of self-preservation, I wrapped various inexpensive toys that could be played in a car. The rule was that they both could unwrap a present every three hours if there had been no fighting or whining. Such comments such as “
“Are we there yet?” or “He hit me were not allowed.” The little gifts worked miracles. They also had a bag of toys to play with when they arrived. Years later we were driving to Ashland that is all of six hours away. Aaron asked if there were presents on this trip. He was in his twenties and had brought a serious girl friend. We had a good laugh but I feel he was disappointed I hadn’t followed through with the Shreve tradition of car gifts.
Another Christmas milestone was when Aaron had questions for me. Aaron was in third grade and was walking home from school with me. I remember him looking at me and saying it was probably time for the talk. I was confused as I thought of several “talk” possibilities. I asked which talk and he said he meant the Santa talk. Enough children in his classroom had put doubt into his mind and he was rather convinced their theories were correct but he wanted confirmation from me.
I replied that there was a real Santa in the form of his Grandpa Jack who kept Santa’s spirit alive, It was now Aaron’s job to help keep Brad believing. I don’t remember Brad ever admitting to me his ideas about Santa. I have a feeling older brother took care of it when too many questions came up.
I have had to pass the Christmas torch on to Aaron and his family. We are now the grandparents who get invited and watch. After putting all of my over-done decorations away for another year, I am more willing to let go. I now need to be satisfied with my memories and look forward to making new memories for the next generation.
Swagerty-Aldrich Family Web Site 