How many times did you listen to an adult in your family say “when I was a kid” or “back in the day” and you would roll your eyes but keep your mouth shut. It was annoying for sure…but here I am now and I’m going to tell you a Christmas story about how it was “back in the day”. I didn’t intend to tell you this story right now but the circumstances of this Christmas brought some memories back that I would like to share. We have all had to change plans to be ready for this Christmas and we have also sacrificed time with family and friends and it has felt hard and tomorrow, Christmas Day, will even be harder than the preparations were. That got me to thinking about my family oh so many years ago.

We had no car. The only time we had a car was when my father was home. Unfortunately, he was not home often for Christmas. He was away serving our country instead of being by our side. Shopping for my Mom was a huge task for so many reasons, no car, and not much money. I used to wonder how she ever made Christmas happen but every year she did and she did it brilliantly. We never had much, not like today where kids are constantly getting gifts, back in the day you got 1 gift for your birthday and a homemade cake. For Christmas, you got a few gifts, some necessities like PJ’s and socks but you would always get just the perfect gift that you were hoping Santa would bring. The thing was though you never knew if it would happen…that is what made Christmas back then magical. Because of that, I think we believed in the magic way beyond the age that we should have left it behind and moved on. During the rest of the year, if you wanted something you had to earn your own money to get it.

My Mom loved Christmas. Even when she was older, like me, she still loved Christmas. Looking back it was truly the only time that she was really, really happy. Most times life was hard for her with not many pleasures to celebrate. But Christmas sparkled at our house. It was the only time I swear she said the hell with it and worried later. The tree, decorations, my grandmother and mother baking and cooking for weeks. The smells and the slaps on your hand if you tried to sneak a cookie…but all in good fun or maybe not. It was exciting for us four kids and it was a long wait. But what about those gifts from Santa. I worried as the day got closer that he would forget about us.

My Mom would finally announce that we had to go shopping to get gifts for my grandmother and grandfather, aunts, uncles, and cousins who came every year but she never mentioned shopping for us. So here is how it happened…she would walk to town after work or on a Saturday and two of us would go with her. If it was snowing we pulled a sled and if the weather was good we would pull a cart. We thought it was a great adventure. I’m not good at measuring miles but I would have to guess that it was close to a mile to get to town…the roads though were like a fairy tale forest at that time of year. As we left of the neighborhood of not so fancy houses and moved along the back roads we would come to the Salem Common and our eyes would light up just as bright as the lights on the big mansions (that’s what we thought back then)…lights of all colors, and orange candles in the windows of each house not just white like we have now, flowers, giant bows and fancy wreaths on the McIntire houses and before you knew it we were at the Salem Common, the photo above is the path that we would come to off the main road and if you look closely all those houses are McIntire’s. Rich people lived there.

We would see the bandstand ahead of us and it would light up our world as bright as any star. You could feel it in the air. Christmas time has a special feeling like no other time of the year. It has smells and sounds that get lodged in your brain forever…In Salem, when you got to Essex St, the main shopping area, they had Christmas carols piped out into the street. It was amazing and if it was snowing, wow, then you knew Christmas was almost here. Those fluffy flakes didn’t both us, we welcomed them. The trip into town was a gift unto itself. My favorite song is still Silver Bells. When you hear it piped loud and clear on a cold crisp winter’s day it lives with you forever and then each year when you hear it again all the memories come flooding back. I miss the music in the streets but then again, the downtown is not what it used to be either. We have malls now…and they are not magical. So, through the Common, we went until we got to Essex St.

This was my year to go and I don’t remember which brother came with me but I do know whichever one it was there was no fooling around. This was serious business. My mom was a no nonsense woman. I was probably eight or so years old this one year. And if you look closely, beyond the Hawthorne Hotel you will see the red stop light…take a right there and you are on the lower end of Essex St. I don’t remember the shopping bits that my mother was doing for here family but I do remember most of the stores and the specialness of them. There was Almy’s with the big clock out front where you could get anything. It had an elevator like a cage with a guy calling out the floors as we went up and down. Woolworths with the food counter in the back where you could get good dinners if you had enough money. Colonial Men’s shop for fancy men’s clothing. We did not go in there. Coons card shop with lots of different greeting cards and trinkets. Then there was Daniel’s Low’s…the big fancy, gorgeous jewelry and gift store with amazing decorated windows. We could only stand outside and peek in the windows…they frowned on kids. Another favorite that we could go in only at Christmas or on Market day in the summer was Kennedy’s Butter store. Those smells remain in my nose to this day. To get real homemade butter was a treat so special that it’s memory lies in those two days of the year. Peanut butter, so good it came in beautiful tubs not jars. And Mom would sparingly buy some of both. My mom was funny like that. We were as poor as Tom’s turkey but she would always only use real butter, not from Kennedy’s except at Christmas but no margarine for her. As we walked Essex st at night it was so festive and bright as if it was noon-time. Bells, wreaths, candy canes, people everywhere and all pleasant and greeting one another. When I look back now I feel like I was inside some child’s story book. On that one night that I got to go pulling the sled…I felt like we were as rich as anyone else that was out shopping…even though we weren’t.

When my Mom was done, we loaded up the sleigh and my brother pulled it home. Back through the common we went and the walk home still held our interest and the magic wore on. A simple life with one week of supreme joy. At eight I didn’t know how that magic worked. I never wondered even after knowing that there was no Santa about my Mom’s struggle to make Christmas happen for us each year. How did Santa get those toys to our house…now I can figure it out. If my Dad was home of course they went in the car but if he wasn’t home I’m thinking our neighbor Ms. Margaret took her. She was a single school teacher who became part of our family as time moved on…but that’s a story for another day.

So here we are sitting on our pity pots every once in awhile because nothing about Christmas is the same this year…and then I remembered. Even under the circumstances that we find ourselves in we are so much better off than my parents and grandparents were (they lived in our two family house). If only they had an Amazon prime card how lucky they would have been…I don't think so. My mom died before ever having a charge card. I do remember Christmas was lay-away or cash. Lay-away for my Mom for sure. Inspite of all the those hardships she made Christmas magical. How is that? My theory is the less you have the more you appreciate the magical moments that come your way. I could probably list for you each year the gifts I got…some so vivid still like my Debby doll. I loved her like she was a real person. She was my imaginary sister. I went looking for her one day many years later and discovered the my brothers threw her out with all my Teddy bears because they wanted the space for something. The more you have you have to dig deep to find the magic. We don’t always appreciate the sacrifice made for us until we are old enough to have lived a fair amount of years but looking back brings our lives as they are today into better focus. Yes, we would all like to be able to move freely, leave the masks behind and go visit our loved ones and leave them at the end of the day having shared hugs and kisses but we can’t do that this year. What we can do though is the little things that mean the most. Call a friend. Call lots of friends. You have a phone. Send a card or a gift…you have Amazon, L.L. Bean or Barnes and Noble. You have a warm house and don’t have to come home and then shovel coal into the furnace to stay warm. We have Zoom and FaceTime and we can hear the voices of our “littles” on the phone. How blessed we are even in these hard times. And if you are blessed by what you have, share it with those who have less. That is what they did in old days, every one helped each other in whatever way they could.

I wish you all peace and joy during this magical season, because yes, the magic is still there and so are the old days to remind us that life at any age is good. Look for the star, listen for the music and be thankful for the smallest of gifts this year. Next year we will look back and remember what was missing from this year and we might find out that we never needed it all anyways. Next year, I just want a million hugs from everyone I meet for Christmas. Now wouldn’t that be a nice way to get peace on Earth…and strangely enough my Mom is still with me each Christmas…in so many simple ways, just like she was in the old days.

Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night.