Christmas Memory

I always get nostalgic this time of year, remembering Christmases from my childhood. One of my favorite things from the season was going downtown to see the lights and decorations. We always parked and got out to walk along, looking in all the store windows. The windows in the department stores were decorated with animated characters. I could stand there for hours and watch  them. Of course we didn't, we had to move along, and the next window was even more fun to look at. I miss those days, miss my parents, especially my mother. She always made Christmas fun, baking and listening to Christmas music. Fridays nights my dad went bowling and Mom brought out the baking supplies. What fun making cookies, being silly, and singing along with her. One of the things I remember most about my mom was her singing. She sang all the time, while washing clothes, cooking, baking, or cleaning - often making up her own songs. 

Another place we went to see the lights was Nela Park. The big GE headquarters. What a display they put on. We'd drive through the streets of the massive complex and oh and ah at the different displays. They quit allowing the public inside the complex in 1958 due to the traffic jams. This year, in celebration of their 93rd year of decorating, they allowed the public in on 3 specific Fridays. 

My daughter, son in law, husband and I took advantage and went there last night. What a treat. They had displays from the 1920s to present day. Brought back a lot of memories, although I don't remember sitting in traffic for as long as we did last night. 

I'm not sure which display I liked the most. They were all so beautiful. I've always loved Christmas lights and last night was a real treat. I'll always miss those days and think of them with fond memories. I hope I've passed on some happy memories to my children of special times. I think back on those days and even though we didn't have a lot, I never realized it, because we had a lot of love. We did things together that didn't cost money and it's more precious to me now than if I'd have had all the fancy clothes or latest toys. I never really missed those things. At least as I think back, I don't think I did. Maybe at the time, I wished I had more clothes, the newest toy, or expensive vacations, if so I have no memory of that and I'm glad. 

Some pictures from Nela Park:

Happy New Year

Here it is 2016 already. Seems like every year the time goes quicker. The older I get the faster time flies. Seems like only yesterday I got married, had my first child and next thing I knew she was in school and I had my sixth child.
Before I knew it they were all married and I had grandchildren. Where did the time go?
Now my grandchildren are grown and having children.
Yesterday I was 20. Today I'm 70. I've celebrated a lot of New Years. Life has been good to me, I feel very blessed. My parents lived fairly healthy lives well into their late 80s and early 90s.
Unfortuantely, I lost my sister - my best friend - much too early. She was only 59 and my brother, who was also too young to die. Now we only have memories of them. Oh but what memories.
Memories of our childhood growing up. My brother - the oldest of my siblings - was pretty calm and serious compared to the rest of my brothers and sisters. I remember him babysitting us - why my mother entrusted this serious boy with the care of us (especially my mischievous  brothers) is beyond me. I remember one year he received a typewriter for Christmas - the kind with a dial you turned for the letter and pushed down.

My brother took this responsibility very seriously. Of course, being kids, we weren't all that well behaved. He'd sit and type out all the bad things everyone did. My younger sister and I probably didn't make his list, but my brothers did.
We lived on the corner and our garage faced the side street behind our house. The minute my parents turned the corner, my brothers offered Mickey everything under the sun to tear up his list. He made some great deals, mostly for chores, and we hightailed it off to bed to feign sleep when my parents came in.
We had many good times growing up, picnics, holidays with an aunt, uncle and their four children, and visits to my grandparents.
The good times didn't end when we grew up. We continued our holiday traditions and still get together often and to this day on Christmas Eve.
Yes, the years have flown by, but the memories remain.
To each and everyone, I pray you have a Blessed and Happy Year.

Christmas Traditions with J.Q.Rose

Hi Roseanne and Readers. What a great topic for this time of year. I’m always interested in learning how folks celebrate Christmas and their Christmas traditions.

When our kids were tween-agers, we began attending the Christmas Eve church service. (Yes, they could finally stay up that late.) Our daughters are now moms with families of their own, so my husband and I continue this tradition together wherever we are on Christmas Eve.

At our home church, the service usually starts at 11 p.m. But even before we begin a special hum pervades the sanctuary at that time of night, and I don’t mean the hum of Christmas carols. The excitement and electricity in the air are contagious. The soft lights change the usual Sunday morning setting as the shadows and twinkling lights play off the poinsettia plants and golden handbells.

The organ, the choir, and the handbell choir sound rich and round with the Christmas selections. The congregation lends their voices to familiar Christmas carols singing their praise and thanksgiving to God for sending his son, Jesus Christ.

Gwen, an outstanding soprano in our choir, always sang “O Holy Night” every year. No one can ever match the sound and beauty of her voice as she sang from her heart. Whenever we sing that hymn, I always recall her lovely voice. She moved to Alabama, and I imagine she is sharing her talent with her new friends on Christmas Eve.

The last hymn on Christmas Eve is “Silent Night.” During the singing of this hymn, the minister and ushers light the small handheld candles each adult is given. The candlelight starts out with just a few candles up in front of the church. By the time the ushers pass the light to everyone sitting in the pews, the sanctuary is filled with warm glowing light just as our hearts are filled with the hope, joy, peace, and love that came to us at Christmas.

Wishing you all the hope, joy, peace, and love at Christmas this year.

* * * *

Back of the book for Coda to Murder:

Pastor Christine Hobbs has been in the pulpit business for over five years. She never imagined herself caring

for a flock that includes a pig, a kangaroo, and a murderer. 

Detective Cole Stephens doesn't want the pretty pastor to get away with murdering the church music director. His investigative methods infuriate Christine as much as his deep brown eyes attract her.

Can they find the real killer and build a loving relationship based on trust?

Buy Links:

MuseItUp Publishing- http://tinyurl.com/onzwc9u

Amazon.com http://tinyurl.com/ap376tb

bn.com and major online booksellers.

BIO- After writing feature articles in magazines, newspapers, and online magazines for over fifteen years, J.Q. Rose entered the world of fiction writing with her first published novella, Sunshine Boulevard, released by MuseItUp Publishing in 2011. Her latest mystery, Coda to Murder, was released in February. Blogging, photography, Pegs and Jokers board games, and travel keep her out of trouble. Spending winters in Florida with her husband allows Janet the opportunity to enjoy the life of a snowbird. Summer finds her camping and hunting toads, frogs, and salamanders with her four grandsons and granddaughter.

Connect with J.Q. Rose online at

J.Q. Rose blog http://www.jqrose.com/

Girls Succeed blog http://girlssucceed.blogspot.com/

Author website http://jqrose.webs.com/

Facebook http://facebook.com/jqroseauthor

J. Q.  Rose Amazon Author Page http://tinyurl.com/aeuv4m4

Goodreads- http://www.goodreads.com/jqrose

Pinterest http://pinterest.com/janetglaser/

You Tube Book Trailer-- http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X9FONg4mJ9g&feature=youtube_gdata

Christmas Traditions by Addison James

Christmas Traditions by Addison James

I grew up the youngest of five children, so Christmas was a very exciting holiday not only because of the presents, but because it was one of the few times of the year that all of us children would be together. My two oldest brothers were in college when I was a toddler and my older sister was in high school when I was starting school, so we five really did not grow up together.

Our Christmas morning tradition involved the Christmas bell. It was a silver bell ornament that was hung on the tree (my older brothers would try to hide it, or put it up high so I could not reach it). The first person to wake on Christmas morning would ring the bell. That was it, but it was a huge competition in our household among us five kids, sixteen years from youngest to eldest, to race down the stairs in the morning and ring the bell.

Now that I’m grown up with my own kids and living thousands of miles away, the tradition is to take the kids and fly back east every other year to reconnect with east coast family. And it’s a time for the kids to experience snow, which is wonderful not only watching kids enjoying and playing in the snow, but also because snow is such a novel concept for them, they enjoy everything about it from making snowmen to scraping the ice off the car and shoveling snow!

Available from: MuseItUp Publishing

The Best Bad Christmas Gift

Last year Susan won a date with the hottest bachelor in town; this year, handcuffs?

Christmas Traditions from Diane Bator

The Pajama Box
  

Ever since my oldest son was born, my mother-in-law (aka Grandma) has sewn pajamas for Christmas that arrived in a big cardboard box. As sons two and three arrived, the pajamas multiplied. The styles remained similar over the past eighteen years, baseball tops and long pants the favorite, but the patterns evolved from bunnies and monkeys to plaids and video game prints. Every Christmas, The Box arrived covered in layers of packaging tape and stamps. Each child had their own shopping bag full of pajamas along with a chocolate bar and a hand-written note from Grandma.

            This year there won't be a box.

            Sadly, Grandma passed away of cancer in October.

            How much my two younger kids would miss The Box didn't even occur to me until I commented to my twelve year old that we would have to toss out what is left of the monkey pajamas he loves. The tears that followed would make Niagara Falls envious and triggered sympathy from my fifteen year old while his eyes welled up as well.

            My heart broken, I sat on my youngest son's bed and asked what would help to make things easier this year. We decided since they can't have Grandma's pajamas, maybe we could start our own tradition. With everyone's help, we could make a Christmas Eve box with pajamas, a movie, and snacks to celebrate the memories of The Box.  

            At first, my plan was to wrap everything in bright paper and put it in a cheery bag beneath the tree. While writing this, I've reconsidered. Maybe what I need to do is place each item in a plastic shopping bag labeled with each person's name, then put it all in a cardboard box covered in half a roll of packing tape.

          

Diane has been a writer since she was able to hold a pencil and tell a story. An avid hiker, Reiki Master and martial artist, she loves to make a mess in the kitchen and putters in the garden at will. Joining the Headwaters Writers' Group in 2007 was the catalyst for unearthing several old writing projects. Her first murder mystery, Murder on Manitou, was published after winning a writing contest in 2010. She lives in Southern Ontario with her husband, three kids and a cat who thinks he's a dog. To learn more about Diane, visit her sites.

My website: http://penspaintsandpaper.com

My blog: http://dbator.blogspot.ca

                                                                                         The Bookstore Lady
  

                                                                                        Wild Blue Mysteries

 Danny Walker is tracking Paulina Chourney who fell deep into the dark side of life and is lucky to get out before her boyfriend Maddox kills her. She escapes Maddox and arrives in a small town, which she sees as a blessing in disguise since the men she worked for would never think to look for her in a lazy, backwater place like Packham. She changes her name to Katie Mullins, makes a deal on a little bookstore and joins a local writing group then successfully fades into anonymity. Until Danny Walker shows up to visit family and figures out who she is. 

 When Paulina catches her 80-year-old landlady Hilda Clayton sneaking out in the middle of the night, the bad guys catch up to her and Danny disappears. Katie has to choose between spending her life on the run or standing up to face her past. Hopefully before the quirky townsfolk turn her death into a spectacle.

The Bookstore Lady Available at:  Amazon:   

Our Christmas Traditions

I love Christmas. Always have. I'm sure it comes from being raised in a family of Christmas lovers. My mother started the holiday season the day after Thanksgiving by baking. I

swear she made every type of Christmas cookie available. 

Back then, during the holidays friends and relatives visited often and she always served a dish of cookies. 

I remember several big 3# potato chip cans full of cookies. When she went out for the evening, she called to see if we were behaving. Our reward - three cookies. Of course, we took three from each can. Even with six of us (I had three brothers and two sisters) we didn't make a dent. 

Our Christmas tree went up December 6th, the feast of St. Nicholas. We put our stockings up the night before and in the morning we received oranges, apples, and nuts. Sometimes a harmonica or other small toy. 

My mother went all out for Christmas with an elaborate village set up under our tree, complete with hills, caves, and houses - all lit and surrounding the nativity set. It took a whole day for my mom to set it up. I'll never forget her crawling on the floor under the tree. After laying a bed of cotton, she carefully arranged the caves in the back corner, built hills and valleys and placed the houses. She even created streams and ponds with tinfoil and mirrors. Everything led to the nativity set. A cardboard stable held animals along with Mary, Joseph and Jesus. Every year one of us got the privilege of placing baby Jesus in the manger. Once they were in place, she set up the shepherds, wise men, and angels. 

For many years, she place a wooden fence around the whole scene. For some reason, she quit setting that up. I wish I had that fence.

I'll never forget how the neighbors complained that she put the tree up so early because, of course, their kids wanted their tree up also.

On Christmas Eve, we had a traditional supper. My aunt, uncle, and four cousins joined us and after dinner, we went to visit my grandmother.

Our dinner consisted of Oplatky (holy bread wafers like you receive at communion) mushroom soup, balbaki - little bread balls covered in either poppy seed and honey or sauerkraut. At some point, we added periogis to the menu. 

One of my favorite memeroies is the year my uncle decided to dress as Santa Claus. He decided to wear the suit to my grandmother's. My sister and I often rode with him, while some of my cousin rode with my parents.  On this particular year, we stopped at a traffic light. A man came out of the bar on the corner. My uncle waved and yelled Merry Christmas. The man stopped, looked in the car, scratched his head, turned and went back into the bar. Guess he thought he was seeing things. 

I have many great memories of Christmas, and I still carry on the Christmas Eve dinner tradition. 

Wishing everyone a blessed and Merry Christmas.                                                                                                                                                               Check out my post On Ginger's blog, Dishin it Out. 

Ginger Simpson's Christmas Memory

Sleigh Bells and Reindeer

“I think I hear sleigh bells,” my dad would say every Christmas. We’d scurry to our bedrooms and pretend to be fast asleep. Being the oldest of four, I knew Dad was the one who went outside and attempted to make reindeer tracks in the dirt. We didn’t have a fireplace, so Santa had to come in through the door. The important thing was that he came.

How my mom and dad managed to give us such joy and the very thing we wanted when the raft shop where my dad worked at the local air force base paid ninety cents an hour.
We thought we were in hog heaven when he brought home the canned rations every now and then. Each one had a candy inside, and the crackers weren’t bad either. I can’t recall a Christmas that didn’t put a permanent smile on my face and joy in my heart.

Although Dad was Jewish and didn’t believe in the reason for the season, he was always the first to shake the presents beneath the tree. We always vowed to wait until Christmas morning to open gifts, but he was the culprit behind the “let’s open just one.”

Sure, one turned into two, and before we knew it, we sat amongst opened boxes and a landslide of wrapping paper, happy with what we’d received, but disappointed that once again we’d failed to wait until morning. So the tradition continues. Christmas eve is our time to celebrate, and I’m always urged on by my father’s voice in my head, telling me now from heaven, “just open one. What harm can it do?” Oh, we still have our Christmas dinner on the day of, and as a Christian, I celebrate the birth of Jesus, and I will be forever thankful for the parents he gave me.

We weren’t rich in the financial sense, but in love we were millionaires. I’d give anything to have one of those Christmas Eves over again, and hear my Dad’s sweet voice talking to me for real. He’s been gone for over twenty years now, but if you’re listening Daddy, your little girl loves you with all her heart, and I miss you still. You’ll always be in my heart.

I wish all a "let's just open one," Christmas. Happy New Year, too.

Christmas Memories

There are so many Christmas memories that I find it difficult to know which ones to  But this one came to mind for some reason.

We'd been married for about five years and it had always been our tradition to put up our tree the beginning of December. My mom always put her tree up on St. Nicholas Day, December 6th. Later, once we bought artificial trees we began putting them up the day after Thanksgiving, a tradition started by my sister that everyone copied. I love Christmas and everything to do with it, so it only seemed natural to put it up then. Besides, back when I was a child the holidays started for our family the day after Thanksgiving with baking cookies and such.

But, I digress from this particular memory.

We lived in a small community that Santa came down all the streets in a sleigh(with wheels) pulled by horses every year around the middle of December Everyone came out to greet him and he passed out candy canes to the kids, no those little candy canes either, those big, thick, long ones. Anyway,  we still didn't have our tree. Money was tight and other things took priority that year. Besides that, our car was broke down and we didn't even have a way to get one.

But that didn't stop me from whining. I wanted my tree. It was getting late in the season and already people were decorated and trees showed up in everyone's windows. Everyone's but ours. I missed the bright colored lights and the warm glow. So, of course one weekend I complained endlessly.

Either tired of hearing me or just being a terrific guy (I'm still not sure which) hubby put on his coat and shoes and walked up to the corner. Let me describe walking to the corner. We lived on a main street and there were several houses between us and the next cross street. That's not the corner I meant. Between that cross street and the corner was a very large cemetery, maybe three quarters of a mile away.

Hubby bought a tree and dragged it home behind him in the snow. And I'm not talking a three or four foot tree, I'm talking about six feet. So... he comes home and he's cold and out of breath, but chuckling.talk about.

Amazed at his good mood, I asked him what was so funny.  Apparently, while he was walking home, a lady stopped him and asked if he knew when Santa was coming. Not stopping to think about it, and not in the best of moods, he looked at her and answered, Christmas.  After she pulled away, he thought about it while walking and realized she meant the Santa who went around the neighborhood. 

Bet she never stops and asks a man dragging a tree down the street that question again.  I wish I had a picture of that. It must have been an awesome sight.