Holidays were always special times for children. They offered time off from school, special gifts, good food, family get-togethers, and did I say, time off from school, oh yeah. Anyway, Christmas was top of the list. Decorations changed the house into a wonderland. Bright colored lights, ornaments, carols playing on the Victrola and the delectable smells of cookies and pine put one into that "Christmas Spirit". The tree was the center of it all. My mother skillfully draped beautiful shades of spun glass angel hair over our decorated tree. The colored glass bulbs, shiny icicles and tinsel garlands shimmered through it making it appear a fairy tree. Dad made a platform for under the tree and nestled on top of it in white cotton were little houses sprinkled with artificial snow. Around that tiny town a Lionel train chugged the tracks with "real" smoke encircling the wee smoke stack. And in the center of that little place was the creche with the holy family and the shepherds and Magi gathered to celebrate the birth of Jesus.
There was the annual trip to crowded downtown Wheeling streets for the Christmas parade. My sister and I were bundled up in woolen leggings and coats, hats, and mittens to ward off the frosty air. Afterwards we were filled with anticipation of the trip to Murphy's 5 & 10 to choose small gifts for mom, dad, and our grandparents. Then mom would treat us to a hot dog at Louie's or a cherry or vanilla coke or milkshake at Walgreen's before we got on the bus to go home. We'd wrap our tiny treasures with festive paper and ribbon and hide them away until Christmas morning. Several days before the"big day" we'd help cut out sugar cookies and top them with colored sprinkles, getting more on the tray and the table then on the actual cookies. We'd nibble on chocolate chip dough without any thought that the raw eggs could make us sick. We'd watch Santa Claus and his elf on WTRF for weeks and then on Christmas eve track the progress of the jolly old elf with the TV reporting just where he was in the world right then. There was always the worry that there might not be any snow for his sled to travel and heaven forbid that he would have to fly in rain or fog.
Finally it was the night before and we put out cookies and milk for Santa and carrots and sometime even a sugar cube for the reindeer. Mom would tuck us in a little bit early to await the arrival of Christmas morning. Lying there in the dark together, whispering to each other, we thought that we would never fall asleep. Sometimes we even imagined that we heard the prancing of hooves on the rooftop or even the rustle of presents being laid under the tree. Sleep would finally come.
Next morning when you woke up was the most exciting day of the whole year. We'd jump out of bed and run down the steps and there under the lit tree were the packages just waiting to be opened. Oh, it was good to be a kid at Christmas - the magic of it all would never reoccur as an adult; but the memory of it brings back the sweet naivety of childhood