What does Christmas mean to me?

The sights and smells are distinct.

Different from the rest of the year.

 

Buying a tree from a local vendor, so many to choose from, and the joy of finding just the right one.

We would drive home with the tree tied to the roof of the Chevy Caprice station wagon.

Dad would bring it in the house and put it in the tree stand.

The tree stand that was mounted on a large square of plywood.

 

Dad put the lights on the tree and we kids liked to help.

Those strings of old-fashioned lights, so much larger than our silly little twinkle lights now.

We decorated the tree with pretty glass balls, handmade ornaments, and sparkly silver tinsel

My mother insisting that we had to put on just a few strands of tinsel at a time.

The scent of freshly cut pine filled the house and the lights were magical to look at.

 

My favorite time was when Dad set up the trains under the tree.

Setting up the tracks to circle around the tree.

Plugging in the transformers and testing for power.

And gently placing the first engine on one of the tracks and turning on the transformer to make it move.

I remember the smell of the transformers

How they smelled of hot electrical contacts.

And the sound of the engine moving on the track.

All of the little plastic houses, trees, ponds, cars and people to put together and arrange into a village.

Plasticville – the tiny village that was surrounded by train track and shaded by a huge pine tree.

 

The train was magical to me and I was always so excited to put the train cars on the track.

Hitch them up to the engine …

Turn on the power …

And watch the train circle the tree.

Round and round it would go.

Not too fast or it would fall off the tracks.

I can see and smell it now.

The train is going past the pond with the ice skater on it.

I imagine the tiny pretend people waving to the train as it goes by.

Just like I did when I was near the tracks in town and a real train went past.

 

Mom’s treasured musical bells are hung in the double wide door opening going into the living room.

Pull the cord and hear a Christmas Carol ringing out from the bells.

Christmas Cards stuck to the wall with thumbtacks all around the doorway.

Sent by friends and family near and far.

 

On Christmas Eve the Mollick family gathered together.

The descendants of my great grandparents.

Frank and Catherine Mollick – previously known as Francesco and Caterina Mollica – before coming to America.

We would all dress up in preparation for the evening.

Gifts were bought and wrapped and loaded in the car.

Everyone took food to share and I remember stopping to pick up the fried fish Mom had ordered from the restaurant in the little shopping center in Greensburg.

 

Walking into Uncle Joe’s house

Aunts and Uncles and cousins all gathered in one place.

Hugs and kisses and someone would take our coats to a bedroom to keep them out of the way.

I was always excited to see Uncle Joe’s trains when we went to his house.

He had a large platform in the basement and the trains were set up all year long.

The food was set out buffet style and everyone helped themselves to plates of wonderful food.

Fish and shrimp and smelts …

Mounds of spaghetti …

And fried cauliflower …

Cookies and candy too.

Cousins eating together at the kids table while the adults ate nearby.

There were gift exchanges and much oohing and aahing as presents were unwrapped.

Thank you! echoing throughout the house.

Dad was always so happy and relaxed.

Enjoying the company of his beloved family.

 

All too soon, the evening was over.

Coats were gathered and goodbyes were said.

Our family would head to church for midnight mass.

And then home and off to bed to dream of Christmas morning.

 

After my brothers and I were in bed and assumed to finally be sleeping

Mom and Dad would make multiple trips downstairs with armloads of presents.

I know because I wasn’t really sleeping, just pretending.

Exhausted, they would finally go to bed and get some much needed sleep.

 

The rule in our house was that we were not allowed to go downstairs until everyone was awake.

But I loved seeing the tree with the packages under it before the chaotic opening of presents.

I would sneak downstairs in the early morning while everyone slept.

And gaze on the magical sight of the tree with all the brightly wrapped presents under it.

I never touched a thing, just stared in wonder at the beauty of it all.

 

Once everyone was awake, we would all go into the room together

Us kids still in our pajamas.

I remember Grandma sitting in a chair near the tree wearing her nightgown and robe.

Smiling at all of us through the chaos.

Dolls and trucks, clothes and shoes, games for all to share

 

Dad always cooked a big breakfast on Christmas morning.

I can hear the eggs and bacon sizzling in the pans.

And smell the potatoes with peppers and onions cooking on the stove.

Once everyone got their fill and the dishes were washed

We settled in to play with all our new toys and games.

 

A day to enjoy the newness of everything.

A time to be joyful.

Christmas memories to cherish.

A Christmas Past.