Kap & Pen

I wrote this article and it was published in an on-line ezine for homemakingcottage.com earlier this month. I thought I’d post it here, since we are getting on toward Christmas!

Childhood Christmas Memories By Gail Kappenman

The Christmases of my childhood were magical, but not because of television or gimmicks or Santa. The magic came from swirling snowdrifts, friends and family, carolers, celebrations of Christ’s birth, the aromas of family recipes, antique decorations, and various yuletide celebrations. Christmas was not simply the 25th of December; it was a month-long season of memory-making.

Our Christmas season officially began the day after Thanksgiving. Following the traditions of their German immigrant grandparents, my great-aunts invited all the children to their house to bake dozens of old-family cookies. The huge variety of hard cookies kept for months in cookie tins, perfect for dipping in tea and coffee during afternoon tea time. The cookies had funny names: zimpsterne, basler, sand tarts, annis brote, and my favorite, moons.

On this day, the aunts chose a child or two to set out the special manger scene for the dining room display. Mary, Joseph, a few shepherds, and the baby Jesus were carefully put into position. At night a well-hidden switch turned on a small light bulb behind the scene, casting a warm glow in the room and quietly reminding us of the wondrous birth of Christ.

Around the first of December, my dad brought home the perfect tree, placing it in the well-used green and red stand, adding his special concoction of syrups and warm water. Then he went to the attic to bring down boxes of decorations. Everything had to be done in order, so Dad and I would untangle and stretch the light strands from the den to the living room, carefully checking each and replacing broken or missing bulbs. I could barely contain my excitement during this time as I impatiently waited for the next step: opening the glass ornaments. That’s when Christmas seemed to really begin for me!

Almost magical, the shimmering globes displayed their translucent golds and blues, greens and silvers. Some colors swirled together, forming almost perfect orbs while others gleamed with a long, narrow point on one end. My favorites were the long, spindly ornaments with a bulbous center containing a recessed star or pleated glass effect. Carefully and lovingly, each glass ball was hung on the tree. Sometimes one would slip off and break, leaving only tiny glimmering shards of its original craftsmanship. Those long-ago ornaments illuminate only my mind’s eye now; time has claimed their fragile beauty.

Traditional carols played an important role in our home. Our record player was in use from morning until late afternoon. I knew the words to most of the carols before I was 11. Some years I would draw old-time carolers for decorations, complete with top hats, muffs, and long dresses.

Eggnog and hot cocoa with large marshmallows were the beverages of choice during December. Mom would allow me a glass or a cupful while I was decorating the house. Every year, I added more decorations. Craft projects hung from lock latches on the windows. A beautiful lighted wreath, made by my older brother, graced my parent’s bedroom window every year. I strung popcorn and created long red and green paper chains. Decorations hung from curtain rods, bookshelves, picture frames–anything I could attach them to. Tinsel graced every bare surface. It might not have all matched, but it sure was fun making and hanging decorations!

Each year found Mom experimenting with new Christmas cookie ball recipes, filling the house with pungent aromas of orange, cherry, and chocolate. She and I enjoyed rolling the finished creations in either powdered sugar or sugar crystals. We made hundreds and gave them away to friends and relatives. Dad and I were the official taste-testers. I don’t recall a single bad batch!

I grew up knowing all our neighbors by name. We visited each other during the year, helped one another, watched each other’s homes and children, and collected mail for each other when needed. I shoveled their snow-filled driveways and they gave me cocoa and cookies and sometimes a couple bucks for my labors. At Christmas, my parents and the people on my block would give the milkman, the mailman, and the garbage man envelopes containing cash, along with a plate of cookies. My neighbors made mountains of Christmas cookies. My favorites came from Florence; she made chocolate-covered rice crispies, magic bars, macaroons, sugar cookies, ginger snaps, chocolate chip cookies, peanut butter bars, and so many others. I couldn’t wait for her husband to come trudging through the snow, bearing the infamous cookie and candy-laden platter to our house!

My dad’s family was large, and no one home was big enough to accommodate everyone, so we had multiple celebrations during December. When I was quite small, my grandmother participated by holding an annual dinner party at her home in Chicago. I remember the dark wood paneled foyer where everyone stamped wet snow from their dress shoes and placed boots on the braided rug. Warm lamplight glowed from the secretary desk near the staircase. My child eyes grew wide as I walked into her living and dining rooms which sat ablaze with twinkling candlelight. Then I saw the bay window showcasing her Christmas tree, its fanciful lights dancing on the snow outside the frost-covered windowpanes.

My aunts always hosted a small evening gathering, their long dining table spread with freshly carved turkey and ham slices, cheeses, breads of all varieties, olives, vegetables, dip, pumpkin and mincemeat pies, cakes, and a never ending supply of homemade oyster stew. Every child in attendance had a small gift awaiting them under the tree. Many times the gift was homemade, making it extra special.

Cousin Gwen hosted a Yule party each year for the adults; however, as I was by that time the only child still living at home, I was allowed to attend. I think her home was the first place I beheld “fancy” decorations. She always had new and tasty delicacies to offer her guests.

The Sunday before Christmas, my dad’s church held “Christmas Tableaux” in the late afternoon. Real people were used to re-create scenes from the story of Christ’s birth. The darkened auditorium was illumined only by candlelight. While the pastor read from the Bible, the stage curtains parted, revealing a striking scene, or tableau, lit with minimal stage lighting. “Actors” remained frozen in their poses until the curtains closed. The curtains reopened when another scene was ready. The tableaux created so wondrous an effect it seemed the audience was actually peeking into the events of two thousand years before.

At some point on Christmas Eve, my mother would wheedle my father into letting her open just one gift. She loved jewelry and my dad put aside money each year to buy her a few little pieces at Christmas. He often let me wrap the tiny packages. Shaking each one carefully, she finally chose one to open. She always loved whatever my father had picked for her. Christmas morning I awoke to find gifts under the tree. While my dad turned on the furnace in their room, I would go to the den and gather up all the presents. Taking them to my parent’s room, we would all sit on the bed and open our gifts. We were not a wealthy family, but my dad saved wisely and planned for Christmas. My parents were very generous; they never bought a lot for themselves, preferring instead to buy for their children and grandchildren. They never regretted a dime.

After gifts, we had breakfast, which was made extra special by the Christmas stollen that my aunts baked every year. It was a delicious breakfast fruit bread, covered in a homemade white icing glaze. My father loved it toasted but I preferred it cold, with a spreading of butter.

About ten in the morning, my dad’s church held a special service. Each family in attendance brought a poinsettia to the service, placing them all around the stage. How breathtaking to see hundreds of red, green, and white leaves surrounding the pulpit! At the end of the service, volunteers would take the flowers to local nursing homes, hospitals, and children’s homes. They also collected canned hams, sweet potatoes, corn, and other foodstuffs to give needy families. Some years, these food items were set to one side of the stage as well, so all could see the plenty which was going to be given away.

The rest of the morning was spent in preparing food for the main meal, held at one of my three brothers’ homes. Alternating homes each year kept things from overburdening any one family. While all of us in attendance would bring something, Mom was always in charge of making the giblet gravy. After the meal, pleasant hours passed in opening gifts and playing until it was time to head home.

Christmas was almost over. There would be one more get-together: to celebrate the New Year. Then school would begin again, the tree would be dismantled, and the ornaments packed away for another year. But I loved the packing away. It gave promise of another Christmas to come. I couldn’t wait!