Boomer Connections This Boomer's Life

I was born in 1962, the youngest of 6 kids, and life at that point was pretty tough for my family. We lived on a working farm, and I do mean working. My parents struggled to make ends meet, planting and keeping up a new orchard and subsequently starting a farm market and bakery–just the 2 of them, along with my grandparents, and us children. No one was ever idle, and there was no such thing as downtime, not ever – except at Christmas. At Christmas, peace descended.

On Christmas Eve we all went to our beautiful little church in town for candlelight service. The congregation sang Silent Night as the ushers started the light and it passed on down the pews. I have a clear memory of all the lights out in the church except for the candlelight reflecting off the stained glass, the familiar faces of friends and neighbors smiling above their lighted candles. It’s a sweet, comforting memory. My mom had the most amazing soprano voice. She studied opera before giving that up to marry my dad, a returning WWII vet, and worked while he went to college. She missed her opportunity for the Met, but expressed her talent on a small stage, in our church choir, and each Christmas Eve she graced the services with her signature rendition of O Holy Night, the most beautiful I have ever heard. She will never realize how very special this Christmas offering was to so many people, and in the darkened church from the choir loft she never saw how many of us had tears in our eyes, my dad for one, and tears were an unfamiliar concept to him.

After services we came home to our family tradition of each of us opening just one present, stoking the fire of anticipation for the next morning. My parents struggled so hard and made due with so little, but they saved all year to give us a wonderful Christmas. We each had not 1 or 2, but a small pile of presents to open. And we took turns one by one, opening each gift and passing it around. With a family of 6 kids and 4 adults, this process took all morning. My parents would use this opportunity to get us toys and a few fun items we were coveting (I remember Nancy Drew mysteries, a Barbie with a smart Jackie O outfit, my first real bottle of grown-up perfume), but also new clothes and shoes that were also a very exciting commodity in those years. A number of the things Mom sewed by hand, in her nonexistent spare time.

At that time our farmhouse was somewhat primitive, and while my parents worked over the decades to build it into a showplace with a big stone fireplace, in 1965 there was no place to hang stockings except an old coal stove. At age 3 it defied my understanding how Santa could get down there. While my mom was the one who sought out the kids’ presents, my dad always had some tricks up his sleeve to make Christmas special for my mom too. One year he got a ton of items, mostly small, but significant, and wrapped them in all different size boxes that made a stack almost to the ceiling. My mom came downstairs to see this huge pile of presents for her and we kids absolutely dancing with excitement to see her reaction. After everyone’s gifts were opened and passed around for examination and approval, the second big part of the day was at hand: Christmas dinner. And that is a whole other story.

What was an unbelievable bounty to us at that time would be considered meager by today’s ToysRUs megastore standards, but I wouldn’t trade my Christmases for anything in the world. If there is one word that can sum up my childhood Christmas experience it was this: meaningful.

What is your Boomer childhood Christmas memory?