A Christmas Eve Story

A Christmas Eve Story: As I was preparing for my slumber last night, anticipating the arrival of Santa at the homes of all my grandchildren, and fondly recalling all the Christmases of my youth and my children’s youth, a couple of things happened. I experienced some different feelings. First of all, I thought “Oh, it sure is quiet around here on Christmas.” That made me a bit sad. Then, I thought “Oh, but at least I don’t have to stay up late and sneak around with presents. And, I don’t have to get up at the butt crack of dawn.” That made me not quite so sad. So, I finally laid my head on the pillow, and my nose was stuffy, so I reached for my trusty Vicks. In the meantime, my cat, the elusive Ivy May, did something she has NEVER done before. She jumped onto my back and started walking around and then kneading my back with her front paws…you know, the way cats do. As I was attempting to rub my trusty Vicks under my nose…she nailed me right between the shoulder blades, which tickled like nobody’s business…causing me to jerk and whammo….Vicks laden finger poke right in my eyelid. If you have never gotten Vicks on your eyelid, I highly recommend you not try that. If you are attempting to rub Vicks under your nose, make sure you don’t have a cat on your back. Merry Christmas!


Way Back When on Christmas

Way back when, in my childhood, we had 8 kids growing up in our house throughout the years, and we didn’t always get a lot for Christmas, but we always got something. We did the whole milk and cookies thing, and mom would have us put carrots out for Rudolf. We’d watch the Santa Tracker on the news. I could never sleep on Christmas Eve, because I was sooo excited! We’d get up at the butt crack of dawn, and our mom would tell us it’s too early, go back to bed. Then I had my own kids, and there were times when they didn’t get a lot for Christmas, but they always got something. They did the whole milk and cookies thing, and I had them put carrots out for Rudolf. We’d watch the Santa Tracker on the news. I could never sleep on Christmas Eve, because I was so excited! They’d get up at the butt crack of dawn, and I would tell them it’s too early, go back to bed. Now my kids are grown, and Santa goes to their houses for their kids. I eat the cookies instead of leave them for Santa, and no more carrots go out for Rudolf here. I don’t watch the Santa Tracker on the news anymore. I still can’t sleep on Christmas Eve, and my grandkids get my kids up at the butt crack of dawn….and I finally get to sleep in on Christmas.

A Christmas Memory

Visiting with my little brother (even though, technically he isn’t so little anymore) last night we reminisced on something.  I asked him “Willy, (I will always call him Willy), do you remember that Christmas when ‘Santa’ was stomping around on the roof outside your room and you and Ambrose came running down the stairs?”  His eyes got big as saucers, I swear, and he was “Oh, yeah, I remember that.”  So, I told the story for his daughter to hear.

When Ambrose and Willy were little guys, probably about 9 or so, you know that age where you want to believe in Santa, but at the same time, you want proof.  It was Christmas Eve and those two would not go to sleep for anything.  A bunch of us “older” people were sitting at the kitchen table (the usual gathering place for the Roland clan), and mom kept telling them Santa would not come until they were asleep.  But they would NOT go to sleep.  So, “someone” started stomping around on the roof.  The two boys came racing down the stairs….looked all around the table, carefully counting, trying to figure out who was missing from the table.  Their eyes got big as saucers, their mouths wide open, because everyone was still at the table.  They both then stated “Uh….we’re going to bed now!” and ran back up the stairs like 2 scared little kids.  I then asked my little brother if he knew who that was on the roof.  He had never been able to figure it out.  I told him it was our brother David.  He shimmied up the drain on the side of the porch, stomped around on the roof, then shimmied back down and took his place at the table without even breaking a sweat.  Then, we got to tell his daughter about her uncle David and what a cool guy he was.  Our brother David passed in 1987…I still can’t believe he kept that little incident a secret from those boys until now. It was quite a surprise to my little brother, and it was nice to see the little gleam in his eye.  Merry Christmas to us from David Roland.