A 50’s Family Christmas

In the fifties during December, my little sister and I often sat cross-legged inside the tent formed by the long drapes that covered our picture window, our flannel nightgowns billowing outward from the heat registers upon which we nestled. As Christmas approached, we gazed up into the night sky dreaming about Santa. Tiny red lights of small aircraft slowly flickered across the sky, and I would whisper to Robin our mother’s words, “Those are Santa’s helpers watching to see if we’ve been good.”

We waited breathlessly for Christmas. Mom worked during the days, so we spent our Christmas breaks sledding together, irritating our older brother, John, while playing Christmas music by the Chipmunks on the old console stereo. As we listened to the old hi-fi radio, Bing Crosby’s “White Christmas” often filled the air, and Johnny Mathis was a staple.

The family usually decorated the tree without Dad who worked the 3-11 shift. Mom fashioned a ritual. To the strains of Christmas music, and despite a few disputes and brotherly punches, we had a jolly, happy time around the tree actually stringing popcorn and cranberries while the old black and white flickered with images of “Miracle on 34th Street.” Mom was meticulous about the method for draping the silver tinsel over the outstretched branches, careful to create the illusion of shiny icicles.

Mom arranged a sheet beneath the tree and a few gifts would appear in advance of Santa’s arrival causing much speculation and package rattling. Because the tree went up several weeks in advance of Christmas, we spent idle evenings lying beneath the tree staring up at the colored lights glittering and glowing, laughing at our distorted images in the mirrored ornaments.

One Christmas Eve, after arranging Santa’s cookies and milk, our mother tucked us into bed, grabbing the bottom of our flannel nightgowns and shaking us into them like potatoes in a sack so she could tuck the nightgown under our feet for warmth. Then, she kissed us goodnight and left the room. A few minutes later, I swear we heard sleigh bells tinkling outside!

Despite our efforts to stay awake so we could witness Santa’s arrival, the next thing we knew, it was 4 am and our brother had awakened Mom and Dad. Our door opened and Mom whispered, “Santa has been here. Put on your robes and slippers.” We gathered in the hall, tingling with excitement, while Dad entered the living room alone. Suddenly the Christmas tree was alight and we spied dozens of shiny gifts with glimmering ribbons piled beneath the tree! A fancy, blue dress with lace and trim, just my size, hung on the bookcase. Small Army jeeps and vehicles encircled the tree! Beautiful dolls with smiling faces beckoned us! The magical aura created by the colored lights turned the room aglow, and we stood in absolute awe. Santa lived!