Holiday Stories & Articles
I remember going to visit the Easter Bunny when I was eight years old. My mother had allowed me to wear my Easter dress for pictures with him. I can still recall the dress. Unlike the traditional pastel colors, this was a simple yellow and white colored dress with a white sash belt attached to the skirt. In the center of the sash was a big yellow flower. I wore my white tights and black patent leather Mary Janes.
I had to be very careful putting on my tights and very careful while wearing them so as not to run them. They were the only pair I was going to have. I needed to take care of them for Easter so I could wear them again.
My mother had even rolled up my hair the night before so I could wear a new hair-do with my Easter outfit. I took meticulous care while dressing and even though I did not care for the results of my hair-do, I made very sure every hair was in place before leaving for the mall.
We went to Woodville Mall for the event. It was an hour before I was finally al-lowed to go stand in line with the other children to have my picture taken. Mom had drug me up and down the aisles many times past him, as she did all of her shopping. At last, she sat down on one of the benches and told me to go ahead and get in line.
I realize now that this was no easy feat for my mother as she was close to 450lbs. Just getting her to leave the house was a task much less walking around in a mall for an hour. They did not have motorized carts and scooters back in those days. Everything was a ‘get up and move on your own’ kind of thing.
I don’t know how long I was in line. It was probably about ten minutes, but to an anxious eight year old child who had anticipated this very moment, it felt like two hours. Either way, Mom had decided it was too much time for her to wait any longer and called me over to her.
As I approached she said, “I’m really tired so why don’t we go home and come back another time to get your picture taken with the Easter Bunny?”
If memory serves, I think Easter was going to be that coming Sunday and as I said, it was not easy to get my mother to leave the house. So I knew my chances were slim on her bringing me back. Then I thought to myself, what’s wrong with this woman? Is she crazy? I’m all dressed up for this. I even slept with curlers in my hair last night so I could take these pictures with the Easter Bunny. She’s got to be kidding me!
“No, I want to do it now while we’re here,” I answered, as all of these thoughts ran through my head simultaneously.
My mother sighed heavily and said, “But he’s not even real!”
Now, let’s be clear. I am no dummy. I could plainly see, as could any other levelheaded child, that whoever was sitting on the Easter Bunny’s throne was not real. However, I also rationalized that the Easter Bunny needed help so he sent out all of these imposters to pose for pictures while he stayed back at the Bunny Hutch preparing for his big day. Sheesh! Anyone with half a brain knew that!
I turned and looked back at the fake Easter Bunny and then back to my mother. “I know he’s not real, Mom, but I still want to get my picture taken with him.”
“It isn’t just that he’s not real,” she mused. “The Easter Bunny is not real. He doesn’t exist at all.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, looking again from the fake bunny to my mother.
“Just what I said,” she reiterated. “He’s fake. He’s make-believe. He does not exist.”
Suddenly, a thought occurred to me. As I said, I’m no dummy. “What about Santa Claus?”
Nonchalantly, as if we were discussing chocolate bunnies and not in the process of shattering all of my childhood misconceptions, she replied effortlessly, “Fake.”
“The tooth fairy?”
My mother sighs with boredom. “Fake.”
I was crushed, but I was also angry. With defiance, I got back in line to take my picture with the faker-Easter-Bunny-that-did-not-exist-ever! As I stood there waiting for the picture, I realized this would be my last picture I would ever take with him, real or not.
Even now, I cannot decide if I was more angry over being tricked or if it was because my mother chose that particular time to devastate me. I’m leaning more toward the timing of the news and not so much at being tricked.
Nonetheless, I do know that because of that specific time – that particular event; it is the reason I have a deep seeded love for the fictional character of Santa Claus. It’s almost like this is my way of defying my mother’s selfish motivation. Although I’ve never again had my picture taken with the Easter Bunny, I have had many snapshots of me and Santa over the years. He is by far, my favorite Christmas character.
I usually feel awkward in social settings and get-togethers. As a result, I frequently avoid them. Even “lunch with the girls,” is sometimes too much for my social skills. Because of this, my daughter says I’m antisocial. She’s probably right.
In spite of my antisocialism, I always enjoy the company of my friend Penny. We go to lunch every now and then and frequently talk on Facebook. I always feel at ease and comfortable with her so when she and her husband Rob threw an Ornament Gift Exchange Party, I accepted their invitation.
When I told my husband and son where we were going and for what reason they looked at me skeptically. “She’s really going to a party,” my son marveled at my husband.
With a short laugh, my husband answered, “Yes, I guess she is.”
And so we did. We arrived on time and placed our ornaments by the tree. Penny had Christmas music playing to set the mood and her home was beautifully decorated and filled with the Christmas Spirit. She and Rob had an oyster bar in the backyard manned by Rob and some friends. In the kitchen was a mashed potato bar, finger foods, drinks and spirits, and of course, no party is complete without the sweet treats.
One by one and two by two, friends arrived for the gala. Glennie, Janae and her husband Jamie were already there when we came in along with Rob and friend Nash. Rachel and Kat arrived and within a few minutes Andy and Skyler followed them in. At some point, I looked up and there was a young man, Ricky, standing amongst us in the kitchen. He just suddenly appeared like Santa and his eight flying reindeer.
Sancho, Penny’s huge lab, was so excited to see everyone. He was sure to visit each of us with lots of sweet doggy nuzzles. Roscoe, Sancho’s little friend, came with Nash. He was just as excited and loving and if you saw what I saw, you’d know Roscoe was just a little too friendly with Sancho. I kept telling him he was being a little light in the paw. He didn’t care though. Roscoe and Sancho had being terribly adorable down to a science.
While everyone mingled and talked, Glennie played bartender making delicious drinks for all of us. I have no idea what they were called but they were served in a Martini glass and very tasty. I drank two of them which is another thing I do not often do.
Finally, after a lot of talking, a little eating, a little drinking, and lots of picture taking, Rob read the Christmas Ornament story that began the exchange of gifts between party guests. It was a blast. Some of the girls were even fighting over Penny’s (Christmas) balls. There are pictures to prove it, too.
To say the evening was festive is an understatement. Penny and Rob were the perfect host and hostess and graciously catered to all of their guests. It was really a lot of fun and I so enjoyed myself. This is another Christmas memory that will last me a lifetime. Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Barbour for such a wonderful evening and making me feel very comfortable in your home. Until we meet again … Merry Christmas!
Pictures of the festivities can be found on my Cranky Old Hag/Facebook Page.
P/S Those two martini glasses full of whatever Glennie made, kicked my Cranky Old Ass! I came home and crashed.
When my daughter, Amber, was just a toddler, about two years old, I dressed her up like a hobo for Halloween. I had bought a black sleeper at Walmart, which had a felt lapel flower, elastic around the ankles so that the shoe toppers covered the shoes and a black felt top hat with a manufactured tear on the top seam. There was also a daisy sticking out of the hat and one the shoe toppers was made to look like a socked toe was sticking out of the shoe.
The hat secured with an elastic chin band so I could put it on her head. I took some blush and reddened her cheeks a little then used a charcoal brick to darken her eyebrows and give her a five O’clock shadow. I tried to model her hobo image to mimic Emmet the Clown’s Clyde the Hobo character.
To say she was cute as a button is an understatement. After giving her a little Jack-O-Lantern Halloween bucket to carry, I took her to the community’s Halloween Party. Needless to say, she won first place in her age group, hands down. Amber was so enthralled with all the different costumes and, of course, she had no idea what was going on, let alone, the significance of her win. She was just happy to be there.
That same year, the same party, my next-door neighbor asked if I would help him dress up for the Halloween party. Scott was seventeen at the time and scrawny, too. I pulled some old clothes out of the closet, a brassiere, some pantyhose, and fitted him with a pair of sandals.
I dressed him up like a woman. I even had a wig he could use. I fixed his hair, his makeup and helped him with the stuffing of the bra so he would be symmetrically even. Instead of a Halloween bucket to carry, I gave him an old purse I had.
As I sat at
a nearby table holding Amber, I watched the judges’ line up the contestants in each age group. As they called the older male teens up, Scott picked up his purse, adjusted his skirt and pantyhose and then got in line.
Tommy Scarborough, one of the judges, approached Scott. “Honey, your group is not up yet. This is for the boys’ only group,” Tommy explained.
In his too-deep-to-be-a-woman’s voice, Scott replied, “I am a boy.”
Tommy took a step back and said, “Oh hell! Well, you can sit back down then. You just won.”
I don’t think the other contestants had finished lining up yet when Scot brought home the prize. It was really funny. I was proud that my two enrollees in the costume contest had won.
Years later, when my daughter was a teenager, I helped a friend of hers with his costume: Griffin Lambert. Amber was having a Halloween party and Griffin didn’t have a costume. He showed up at the house early so we got some clothes out and a wig and dressed him up. No one recognized him either when the guests came in until he spoke and they caught his voice.
I had so much fun with those kids! I cannot even begin to tell you. Even though the parties were about fifteen years apart, I had pictures of all three of them in their Halloween garb. Now though, after all these many years later, I cannot find them. It’s okay, though. The memories are still there in the back of my mind. They are very well kept and still cause me to smile and chuckle whenever I think about them.
All Americans should be given this lesson. Those who think that America is an arrogant nation should really reconsider that thought. Our founding fathers used GOD's word and teachings to establish our Great Nation and I think it's high time Americans get re-educated about this Nation's history.
I hope you take the time to read this ... To understand what the flag draped coffin really means ... Here is how to understand the flag that laid upon it and is surrendered to so many widows and widowers.
Do you know that at military funerals, the 21-gun salute stands for the sum of the numbers in the year 1776?
Have you ever noticed the honor guard pays meticulous attention to correctly folding the United States of America Flag 13 times? You probably thought it was to symbolize the original 13 colonies, but we learn something new every day!
The first fold of the flag is a symbol of life.
The second fold is a symbol of the belief in eternal life.
The third fold is made in honor and remembrance of the veterans departing the ranks who gave a portion of their lives for the defense of the country to attain peace throughout the world.
The fourth fold represents the weaker nature, for as American citizens trusting in God, it is to Him we turn in times of peace as well as in time of war for His divine guidance.
The fifth fold is a tribute to the country, for in the words of Stephen Decatur, 'Our Country, in dealing with other countries, may she always be right; but it is still our country, right or wrong.'
The sixth fold is for where people's hearts lie. It is with their heart that they pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America, and the Republic for which it stands, one Nation under God, indivisible, with Liberty and Justice for all.
The seventh fold is a tribute to its Armed Forces, for it is through the Armed Forces that they protect their country and their flag against all her enemies, whether they are found within or without the boundaries of their republic.
The eighth fold is a tribute to the one who entered into the valley of the shadow of death, that we might see the light of day.
The ninth fold is a tribute to womanhood, and Mothers. For it has been through their faith, their love, loyalty, and devotion that the character of the men and women who have made this country great has been molded.
The tenth fold is a tribute to the father, for he, too, has given his sons and daughters for the defense of their country since they were first born.
The eleventh fold represents the lower portion of the seal of King David and King Solomon and glorifies in the Hebrews eyes, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.
The twelfth fold represents an emblem of eternity and glorifies, in the Christians eyes, God the Father, the Son, and Holy Spirit.
The thirteenth fold, or when the flag is completely folded, the stars are uppermost reminding them of their nation’s motto, 'In God We Trust.'
After the flag is completely folded and tucked in, it takes on the appearance of a cocked hat, ever reminding us of the soldiers who served under General George Washington, and the Sailors and Marines who served under Captain John Paul Jones, who were followed by their comrades and shipmates in the Armed Forces of the United States, preserving for them the rights, privileges and freedoms they enjoy today.
There are some traditions and ways of doing things that have deep meaning.
In the future, you'll see flags folded and now you will know why.
When the children were small my husband and I would spend so much money on “fun” candy for Halloween, as well as candy bars, totaling upwards of 60-80 bags of candy. We would make up trick or treat bags for the children’s classrooms and personal friends that always came by. The rest was used for Halloween night. The candy included, but not limited to, Gooey Eyeball Gumballs, Sweet Tart Witch’s Bones, or Pumpkin Popcorn Balls. Anything was fair game.
Once the bags were made, I would dress up for Halloween (usually as a cow with udders) and go to their individual classrooms to pass out the trick or treat bags and gifts. As Halloween night approached, I’d order four to six pepperoni and cheese pizzas for the many family and friends who would drop in over the next several hours. It was always a festive and fun night for us.
Our next task was decorating the front yard. We had lights, gravestones, and other assorted decorations to put up. But, the most popular item we had was the “Thing Box.” Children would return year after year just to get a handful of candy from Thing. Using the theme from the Addams Family, I had a special box made for Thing (the hand that used to run around the Addams’ Family home), and he would pass out candy every year.
My sister, Barbi, who was born with only one hand, did Thing a couple of times. Sometimes, she would stick her nub up in the box instead of her hand. However, this presented two problems. First, the obvious, she would scare the daylights out of babies and toddlers who didn’t know any better. I wanted the children to enjoy coming back for Halloween, not fear it. The second, she wasn’t able to see who was walking up the way and knocking on Thing’s box so, we came up with a signal to let her know which hand to put through the box.
If I told Barbi, “Thing, someone wants to see you,” or something along those lines, she would know to answer with her missing hand. Otherwise, if I instructed the children, “Knock on the box and Thing will give you some candy,” she knew to be Thing.
Needless to say, it was a riot! Even parents were intrigued and wanted to knock on the box. As a matter of fact, we had one pick-up truck full of children stop and the father, sitting in the bed of the truck with the kids, (he was clearly intoxicated) stumbled up the path and asked if he too could knock on the box and receive a piece of candy.
“Sure,” I answered enthusiastically and then to Barbi (Thing), I said, “Thing, you have a visitor wanting to see you.”
Barbi stuck her artificially blood-covered stump through the box. The man, not paying attention as he’d been watching the children get the candy, grabbed her nub and started walking away. The table was being drug behind him as he clung to her nub pulling her with him. Barbi began yelling for him to let go when he finally realized what was going on.
The following year, he made sure we were on his list of houses to visit. When he came back he said, “I’m not drunk this year and I want to try it again.”