Twas the night before Christmas and all thru the house….

This poem by Clement Clarke Moore lingers in my mind as the most memorable time in my childhood when it comes to Christmas. His words stir up pretty pictures in my mind that do not reflect how it truly was for me on Christmas. Twas will be my memories as best as I can recall. I was just a child then and it was so long ago.

My first deep memory of Christmas was in realizing Santa was Uncle Lytle, my mother’s brother. Try as much as he could, he failed to disguise his voice beyond recognition. The suit fit, the belly was real, the beard hid much but the voice was the giveaway. I was the youngest of four. I had four cousins my age, four younger and many that were much older. I think that was the last year anyone tried playing Santa with us.

My next memories were after we moved from North Guilford, Maine to York, Maine. We lived in a very kid friendly neighborhood, Sewell’s Hill. A tradition began and carried on for some time and those were pleasant memories for sure. The wives all baked and set out goodies on display. How our parents planned this event I do not know, but each family, one by one would visit all the other families with children.

While the adults would gather in the kitchen for wassailing (look it up), the children got to show off what they got for Christmas and play with each other’s toys. Clothes given might be worn, but that was more practical than celebratory. A successful Christmas round about was if no one broke your toys or you did not brake someone else’s.

My best friend lived on the edge of this community. They did not make the rounds. It never occurred to me until I began this recollection as to why it was that way. My mother was their housekeeper, to supplement dad’s income. We were not rich. I didn’t know what poor was for I had not read Charles Dickens at that early age. My best friend was a doctor’s son. Christmas was something altogether different for them and I would not have understood affluence at that time.

We were secular in celebration. I didn’t attend church and get to see Christian celebrations until I was about fifteen when I chased a girl into church. The pageants and scriptures were foreign to me and was more of a curiosity than anything else, primarily because I was not saved.

All that changed after I was saved.