Christmas, when I was a kid, was very simple.
You asked for one thing, a pair of ice skates or bike, and if you were lucky you got it. Oh, there were little things you might get from a cousin or aunt, but it was mainly that special something you’d dreamed of all year.
The picture above is probably Circa 1956. As you can tell by the wall paper, it was that wonderful era of humongous flower patterns and Priscilla curtains. I never understood priscilla curtains. They didn’t insulate or cover anything, but my mother loved them.
I believe the Christmas tree on the right is a cedar my dad cut from our pasture. Cedars can smell simply wonderful or like cat pee. They are very sticky and usually had some remnant in it’s branches of a rodent or other creature who had to give up their home so we could have a Christmas tree.
The decorations were very simple, but we loaded up on the tinsel…I loved to put the tinsel on the tree. It magically transformed that homely cedar into one that would look good in any Macy’s display window.
I remember that Christmas because I got a miniature sewing machine. I was going to design, and make all my doll’s clothes. I think I ended up making squares of material, sewn together. Not what I had in mind at all.
From the looks of my attire, we’d probably attended a Christmas program prior to unwrapping gifts.
Grandma has a death grip on my baby sister and she’s looks ready to bolt, and get on with this photo–there were toys to play with… dolls to push in her new stroller.
My little brother, Stan had the most gorgeous eyes for a boy, and curly hair. He was a charmer then, and when he became a little older, very successful in using those attributes on the fairer sex.
December, in Iowa, could be bone-chilling, tongue stuck on the pump handle, cold.. My dad would bring straw bales from the barn and put them all along the foundation of our farm house, mainly on the north side to add a little insulation, and to keep our pipes from freezing. I hated those darn things. I swore I’d never put straw bales around my house when I grew up. So far I haven’t
I don’t have a lot of Christmas pictures from my childhood. Probably because we didn’t have a flash on our camera. This photo was probably taken by my aunt who could afford a flash on her camera.
That old farm house was drafty, and small, but it was warm with family and love.