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Showing posts from November, 2015

The Ceramic Thanksgiving Santa Claus

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My family had a few Holiday traditions. The most delicious tradition was my grandmother's Christmas bread. The most fun tradition happened right after Thanksgiving dinner as dessert was being enjoyed. I don't know who started it or when. It was just something we did that became a tradition called Table Trees. Preparing for Table Trees began Thanksgiving morning when sheets of paper were cut into strips. On each strip the name of a family member was written. While it differed who wrote the names on the strips, it most always was a younger member of the family doing it. After every family member's name was on a strip, the strips were folded a few times and placed inside the ceramic Thanksgiving Santa Claus which was then put some place secure until the dessert was being enjoyed. When I was little  it seemed as if the adults would never finish talking and eating so the ceramic Thanksgiving Santa Claus could be brought out and the fun could be underway. Again it would b

Playing School in the Old Chicken Coop

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When playing school out in the country in our chicken coop schoolhouse void of chickens and filled with the chalkboard, books, and desks from an abandoned one-room schoolhouse, my cousin and I often shared the responsibility of teaching our 'class' of younger siblings/cousins. When they were not attending class their desks were occupied by invisible students who had pretend names and participated with enthusiasm. Sometimes too much enthusiasm. But all w ould quiet down when I read them a certain story set in Lapland from the Barne's New National Reader titled, "A Reindeer Drive." Actually I didn't read it. I made a story up and showed them the picture that went with the story-a reindeer running while pulling a small sleigh. For some reason I loved that illustration and decided to enhance it by letting my imagination take over. The pretend students loved it! They asked me to read it again and again and so I did. I still have that book. The copyright is 18

Could My Father Have Been Santa Claus?

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Because my father was a Funeral Director back when funeral directors were always on call we rarely went on vacations. When we did it was unusual if we went very far. The North Pole was only two hours away so we made that trip a few times. Every time was magical. Of course Santa Claus lived there. Although I knew that, one year on Christmas morning I was convinced my father was the real Santa. The night before had been disappointing. Oh family members came. Piles of presents were under the tree. I hung my stocking and put the milk and cookies out with my brother. But it was raining outside. Any snow on the ground had been washed away. I'd never known a Christmas without snow in all my seven years. Besides the lack of snow, my father had to work. He made it home just as our mother was telling us it was time to get ready for bed. I was standing by the Christmas tree when he came in soaking wet. After pulling a package out from under his coat, he took the coat off and hung it ov