Christmas Story

I realize it's only Halloween, nice pumpkins by the way Jess, but I had to write a Holiday Memory piece for my last remaining English class, Teaching Writing, so I thought I would share it with you all. Also, I think it's time that we figure out what we are doing this year and draw names so I can get my shopping started and finished. Enjoy!

Every single year since I was born, I have spent the Christmas holiday with my family, participating in an array of traditions. There are those certain things that just make the holiday, and their absence is felt by all. I come from a large family of seven children, and during the holidays we always come together from as far as Washington D.C., Utah, Ohio, and parts of Illinois to revive our childhood memories and keep our traditions alive. On Christmas Eve, we have a beautiful dinner prepared by the hands of my mother and get ready to go out into the world for one of our most beloved holiday activities.

When we were growing up, my parents drove a large, white Dodge van, aptly named Moby D on its license plates, which fit all seven of us comfortably on its three long bench seats. I remember, when we would first climb in, the maroon, vinyl seats were cold as ice. We would bring blankets to wrap around us, and we knew the drill. One of us would crawl under the second bench seat and pull the handle of the van’s heater, which read “pull for heat,” and soon Moby would be blowing out warm air like the fireplace we just left behind.

My dad would back out of the driveway, and the merriment commenced. Driving through the local neighborhoods, we sang all the Christmas carols we could remember. Sometimes only a few people knew the words or the second and third verses, but we would hum it anyway. O Holy Night, Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer, Away in a Manger, anything from Bing Crosby’s White Christmas album, we sang the gamut of Christmas songs, on key or not. Once we finished one, someone would start the first line of the next, and the singing continued through our journey.

We loved to look at all the light displays people had adorned their homes with and feel the spirit of the holiday. As seasoned pros at this, we knew what neighborhoods were the best, and my dad would slow down by the really astounding displays, where almost every inch of the home and yard was covered by lights. I wonder now how many people we scared as a big, white van crept by their homes on Christmas Eve, but we meant them no harm, just admirers of the lights.

Now as my siblings’ ages range from 19 to 34, with wives, husbands, and children of their own, we still get together to participate in our special manner of caroling. Moby D has been gone for the last decade or more, so now we have to take more than one vehicle, but we still manage. The introduction of walky-talkies and cell phones have helped to keep our multiple cars connected, and last Christmas I gifted my family songbooks with all our favorite hymns and songs, accompanied by small illustrations I painted on the pages. My family is growing and changing with each passing year; however, at Christmas we hold our traditions and the love we have for one another close to our hearts.