Author Topic: Share Your Christmas Stories  (Read 10448 times)

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Thipu1

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Re: Share Your Christmas Stories
« Reply #60 on: December 17, 2013, 10:51:32 AM »
The first artificial tree in the family.

It was the early 1950s.  Grandma and Grandpa had just celebrated their 50th Wedding Anniversary.  A big, live tree was their Christmas tradition but they thought a change would be 'modern' and less work.   They ordered an artificial tree from the Monkey Ward catalog. 

The thing arrived and was put up. It resembled a set of green bottle-brushes stuck on a hat stand.  No one was happy and Grandma sent Grandpa out on Christmas Eve afternoon to secure a real tree.

Of course, by that time,, the pickings were slim and there was no time to put the tree in a bucket of water and let it relax in the partially heated garage for a few days. As a result, the real specimen didn't look much better than the fake but it was a live tree and so the tradition was preserved, in a way. 

Delta

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Re: Share Your Christmas Stories
« Reply #61 on: December 18, 2013, 11:55:32 PM »
Every year, Mom and I reminisce about what we call "The Christmas Dad got her THAT sweater."

My father, bless his heart, has absolutely NO CLUE how to shop for Mom at Christmas. Up until I was old enough to do the holiday shopping for Mom for him, he'd just give her cash so she could buy herself whatever she wanted.

Until THAT Christmas.

To this day we don't know what got into his head, but apparently a woman who he worked with was a seamstress of sorts. She designed the t-shirts for the company-wide "trivia bowl" contest and I guess Dad was impressed. So he commissioned a sweater for my Mom as his Christmas gift for her.

Dad LOVES music, and actually used to go to a weekly "music trivia" event at his veterans legion each week. He thought that a music-themed sweater would be a good gift.

Mom HATES the color yellow. Its her least favorite color of all - you can see where this is going I'm sure.

So comes Christmas morning, Dad makes a big production out of handing her his gift - mentioning how this is one he KNOWS she's going to love, its super special you see, he had it MADE just for her!! Go on, open it Mom!!!

Imagine, if you will, a short-sleeved wool sweater. A fluorescent yellow wool sweater. With blue, green, purple, orange, red, and black musical symbols all over it.

The look on Mom's face was priceless (how Dad missed it, I'll never know - we both think perhaps he was momentarily blinded by the supernova like glare coming from it.) I quickly had to excuse myself and get a cup of coffee from the kitchen, so not to burst into laughter. Poor Mom was struggling to find enough words of admiration and gratitude to make Dad happy, while I'm sure she was dying a little inside. Dad preened all evening with pride, and of course INSISTED she wear her Christmas Sweater to the family dinner at my Grandmother's house that evening.

The sweater was also about 3 sizes too big.

The next day, Dad said perhaps she could wash it and shrink it so it could fit better???

We dutifully did that.....the fact that the washing machine somehow spewed forth boiling hot water that shrank the shirt to the size of a tea-towel is something nobody could explain *wink*

Valentines Mommy

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Re: Share Your Christmas Stories
« Reply #62 on: December 19, 2013, 02:39:42 PM »
Oh, wow! That is hilarious!

JoyinVirginia

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Re: Share Your Christmas Stories
« Reply #63 on: December 19, 2013, 03:25:48 PM »
Delta, your story made me laugh so hard I cried! Thanks for sharing it!

HGolightly

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Re: Share Your Christmas Stories
« Reply #64 on: December 20, 2013, 11:55:44 AM »
Delta that is possibly one of the greatest Christmas stories ever told. I am howling with laughter.

*new*mommyagain36

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Re: Share Your Christmas Stories
« Reply #65 on: December 20, 2013, 03:22:40 PM »
Similiar to pierrotlunaire0's post about 1/2 asleep photos.  My Dad always had this look on his face that I call "Jim from Taxi" in the photos from my childhood (the 70's-80's).  We always woke up at the butt crack of dawn to open gifts and my mother would snap photo after photo.  Dad liked to lounge about in underwear only so Mom would try to avoid photographing him directly but there are plenty of gems where you see his face in the corner or in the background of a pic.  Also, equally hysterical are the photos where it appears Dad was attempting to escape the photo because there would be the occasional "back of a man wearing only underwear fleeing the room" pics as well.   ;D
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Outdoor Girl

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Re: Share Your Christmas Stories
« Reply #66 on: December 20, 2013, 04:45:17 PM »
This happened a few years ago:

I got $20 GC's for a local grocery store, using my Air Miles points, to give out as Christmas tips.  I left one for the paper carrier.  A few days later, I happened to see him and asked what he'd done with his GC (the previous one spent it on pop and chips  ;D).  He had a TY note for me.  His Mom happened to be helping him that day and I got talking to her.  Turns out, the Dad was working 3 hours away and was only home on weekends, when he was able to get home.  There were 4 kids and the paper route money was helping to support the family.  The boy really wanted ribs for dinner some night and when he got the GC, he took it to his Mom, 'Can we have ribs tonight?'  Mom had planned to make KD for dinner so instead, they got ribs, salad and a loaf of bread, on me.  Mom gave me a hug and I went away pretty teary but feeling good.   :)
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Ontario

zyrs

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Re: Share Your Christmas Stories
« Reply #67 on: December 22, 2013, 03:05:51 AM »
I called my mother today to make sure that what I remember about this specific Christmas actually happened

About 50 years ago, we did a round of visiting relatives Christmas day.  It ended with us being at the paternal grandparents' at the end of the evening.

My favorite present from this group was an air pump cork rifle.  It was as realistic looking as any piece of formed metal and wood could be and I was very happy to have it.  The only drawback I saw to the rifle's spiffiness was the string which attached the cork to the rifle.  I thought the string was lame ... so I removed it.

This made the rifle much more interesting, as I could pump it up and the cork would fly faster and farther the more I pumped it.  So I practiced out in the entrance while the grownups talked and visited and it got later and later.  And I started getting bored.  I knew enough not to shoot it at anyone, but I was getting tired of stacking the block set to see if I could knock it down (the answer was yes, but you had to make sure you had enough pressure).

Then things happened fairly quickly.  I had just finished pumping the air pump for a really long time - my grandmother's very old cuckoo clock hit the hour - I aimed and fired without thinking about it (hey, I was 6 at the oldest) and the cork,  sailing through the air like it had been shot by a rifle, arrived right at the cuckoo just as it came out the little door and knocked it off the clock.

My memory is hazy about everything after that, but I believe it involved corporal punishment and a lot of yelling.

gmatoy

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Re: Share Your Christmas Stories
« Reply #68 on: December 22, 2013, 04:26:44 AM »
I was 18, serving in the Army and was 3000 miles from home. It was my first Christmas away from home and I was so homesick. In our company, we had bays which were divided into spaces; two women to a space. The woman I shared with grew up a few hundred miles from where we were stationed. She refused to leave me and stayed with me that Christmas. I will remember that kindness to my dying day. (Thank you, MJB.)

Ms Marple

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Re: Share Your Christmas Stories
« Reply #69 on: December 22, 2013, 04:31:03 AM »
I think Zyrs should have received a medal for shooting the cuckoo. May I bestow you the Honor of the Cuckoo, albeit a few years late?

(My gran also had a cuckoo clock.   ::) )

Lady Snowdon

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Re: Share Your Christmas Stories
« Reply #70 on: December 22, 2013, 01:57:55 PM »
A couple of years ago, my IL's got a ham from FIL's boss for Christmas and that was going to be the centerpiece of our Christmas dinner with them.  It was your standard spiral cut ham, nothing special or fancy.  It was decided that adding the glaze would make the ham harder to cut somehow ( ??? ), so it was just a plain ham that was baked.  FIL decided, as the man in the family, that he is going to carve the ham.  He couldn't figure out how to do so at all.  The ham was being twisted and turned and flopped about, ham juice was flying everywhere, and I didn't know FIL knew so many swear words as he exhibited that day.  We were all dying of laughter, which caused FIL to get very mad at us as well, since we weren't helping.  The best moment came when MIL was trying to clean up some of the mess caused by FIL, who had just successfully managed to cut his first slice (probably ten minutes into trying).  He bellowed, "WOMAN!  Keep out of the kitchen while I'm cutting the ham!", and that was it.  I couldn't stop giggling for the rest of dinner, and we left soon after eating, mostly because there was no point in antagonizing FIL any more than we had to.

FIL is getting another ham from his boss for Christmas this year.  I'm already anticipating what will happen!

kherbert05

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Re: Share Your Christmas Stories
« Reply #71 on: December 22, 2013, 05:59:12 PM »
Palais Royal used to have this day that kids could go in and buy Christmas Presents for their family without adults. I want to say it was kids 5- 12. I felt so grown up. Cousin C and I fought all the time but it was one of those hey that is my cousin/sister/brother no-one but me can pick on her type of situations. Since Cousin C was an definate Alpha girl, it protected me from a lot of the mean girl stuff even though we went to different schools because she went to church with a lot of my classmates. One time this girl started in on me - and was stopped by the words (That is Cousin C's full name 1st cousin and another cousin's full name 2nd cousin) The girl stopped in her tracks said sorry and literally turned on her heels.

So one year I found the "Perfect earrings" for her at the Palais Royal thing. But when she opened them the box was empty. She was so upset and at first thought I had done it to be mean. MOm and Aunt pointed out the box had been professionally wrapped at the store and that in the confusion of serving so many kids they must have made a mistake. MOm took us back a couple of days later. The manager fell over himself appologizing and gave all 3 (Cousin C, Me, and sis) 2 pair of earrings apiece.

We had pierced ears - but I HATED them. They always got infected no matter how much I cleaned them and the doctor kept pointing out that having piercing when you have my skin condition is just stupid. (When I got the pierced I told the lady doing and my Aunt Dr. George is going to yell at me and I'm going to tell him to Yell at you instead. He did. I did. He did = yes he actually called my Aunt and chewed her out. He also chewed out my Mom.  Well I finally got away with not wearing my earings so they healed over. So Aunt was going to buy me pierced earings for Christmas and Cousin C asked her why, since my ears were healed and I just gave the earings to sis or her. Thanks a lot cuz. I got hauled down the the jewlery store again. What amazes me as that they did it. I'm the one getting a hole punched in her ear - and objecting very loudly and they still did it. What is really weird is my family isn't toxic, for most things you set your boundaries and at a fairly young age they were respected. But this one thing they pushed.

Then there was the back to back years I "ruined" Christmas, according to little sis. We used to keep my AUnt's dog every Christmas while she flew back to England. Mom noticed that I got sick every Christmas and suspected the dog. So told Aunt we couldn't keep Barnie. Cue Sis not speaking to me. THing was I still got sick. Dad went and picked up our tree, brought it in and set it up. I was sleeping and woke up sick as a dog.

So Day after Christmas Mom goes to the Christmas Store and buys an artifical tree. The next year we get to keep Barnie, but have the artifical. Sis is so steamed about me ruining Christmas because we can't have a real tree, that mom lets her have a wreath in her room. I don't know about it, I come home from school - and 30 minutes later I can't breathe. Mom throws the wreath out. I'm ok a day or so later. Sis goes out and cuts small branches from Pine Trees (we lived in Piney point) sneaks them in her room. I don't get sick. She does a big reveal obviously I'm faking (the only time she ever said that). MOm and Dad do some research - it isn't the trees I'm reacting to. It is the perservatives they spray them down with.
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