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Thank you, Dan, for allowing my blog about Wake County dogs to stay on as long as it did.  This was a first for me...trying to show through various patterns of writing, what happens to many animal shelter volunteers.  Sorry N& O thought it had to go...but thanks again.

This Christmas, I know I saved 22 dogs and 6 horses. A holiday memory I will never forget.

 Best wishes for a Grinchie free holiday.

    As I think about past Christmases and all the memories that go with them I am both filled with joy and with sadness. The joys come from the usual favorite gifts both given and received and happy times spent with my family as a child and as a parent with my own children and knowing there will be more happy Christmases. The sadness comes from knowing these times are past and will never come again and from missing those who are no longer here to share Christmas with us.

            As a child I remember spending Christmas Eve and Christmas with my immediate family. Christmas Eve was spent gathered around the Christmas tree listening to Bing Crosby and Perry Como with my dad. We were then off to Christmas Eve Mass, if we were lucky Midnight Mass. Christmas morning everyone would  find their special present opening spots and we kids would tear at all our packages while my parents sat back and watched. We never understood how Dad could open his packages so slowly undoing every little piece of tape one piece at a time. I know now that he got a great deal of joy just watching us.  Christmas Day was spent trying out all our new toys and when we could sneak it in between the Christmas music, listening to our new music on the family stereo. As the youngest of eight children I thought it was just wonderful we could all be together for the day, especially as my older siblings started moving away from home.

            I am sure there were gifts I received over the years that meant a great deal to me at the time, but as the years have past I more remember the gifts I gave that were well received. I can still hear my father laugh and the smile on his face when he opened a homemade gift from me one year. When I was about six years old I was allowed to go to work with my mother (more like I had to go to work with her because no one was at home to watch me) one afternoon not long before Christmas. She worked right next to the gift wrapping department in the local department store. I decided to entertain myself with all the paper and ribbons what ever I could find in the gift wrapping station. The end result was a shirt board cut to look like balloon (actually more like a lollipop) with a face and hair made from ribbons, paper and markers. Of course, it was finely wrapped as well any six year old could wrap. I don’t know what my father was expecting when he opened it but he was tickled with it. I was thrilled to death that it was so well received.  I know he kept it for years and I suspect it is still somewhere around my mother’s house.

            An added bonus for me, though I didn’t always appreciate it as a child, was my family was all together to celebrate my birthday at Christmas dinner.

            These are the memories I miss from my childhood-quiet family time. Ok, maybe they weren’t always quiet with eight kids. My father died many years ago but I still see him sitting quietly opening gifts. I often wonder what he would think about Christmas at his house with 40-50 people there now.

            As a parent Christmas took on a whole new meaning.  The joy of being Santa and watching our own children opening gifts is about the greatest gift I could ever receive. Christmas Eve was still spent around the Christmas tree and at Mass. My husband would always dig out “Twas the Night before Christmas” to read to the kids. He would drive them crazy when he knew all the words without turning the pages. Later the two of us would spend a bit of quiet time together reflecting on the past year and past Christmases while we waited for the kids to be totally asleep for Santa to visit. The kids are a little old for “Twas the Night before Christmas” now, if that is possible. We still play Santa and still manage to find a quiet moment together.   

            Christmas Day got divided up in parts. First thing in the morning we opened gifts at home with just our kids. Then it was on to my mother’s house to open gifts with the extended family. We managed to make it home for naps and rests and family time before heading back to my mother’s for Christmas dinner.

 Since our oldest daughter’s birthday is also Christmas Day our afternoon family time included having our own family birthday celebration. Celebrating my birthday with my daughter is by far what I miss most from Christmases past. As a child I did not like having my birthday on Christmas and did not want my cake to have anything to do with Christmas. It was Elizabeth who taught me just how special it is to share a birthday with “Baby Jesus.”  She couldn’t have picked a better day to have a birthday.  She made a point of asking for a Christmas themed cakes and was delighted when Santa Claus showed up at her party one year.

This is our fourteenth year of celebrating Christmas without her. She was a very special Christmas gift to us twenty-two years ago. Now we have the gift of her memory and the gifts of all she taught us in her eight short years with us. Elizabeth is the greatest gift I ever received on Christmas. She is here with us in a very special way every year as we celebrate Christmas and with me as I blow out my birthday candles. And she will always be “Our Christmas Angel.”

Christmas is a time for remembering all those we love who are no longer with us and all the good times we had, but it is also a time to live in the moment and for the future. We cannot dwell on what we miss from the past because we might miss a memory in the making. We also need to think about Christmases yet to come. One day maybe our house will be full of grandchildren just waiting to hear “Twas the Night before Christmas” or who will get a thrill out of listening to Bing Crosby.

My cat, Jasmine, sits near our tree. I wanted to share this idea and photograph with others because the tree, decorations and all, cost less than $10, because it represents a very “green” way to decorate, and because it is the first tree I have decorated since my father died on Dec. 31, 2001. I bought the unbreakable decorations that year for less than $5 but haven’t had the heart to decorate a tree since. I purchased the 100 clear lights on a white string recently for $2. I found the bare tree lying by the roadside so it cost me nothing. I love trees in winter for the artistry of their bare branches. The unbreakable ornaments (attached with securely tied string) and branches are safe for my cat, who would break glass ornaments and nibble on the foliage of a natural spruce or artificial tree. The lights are barely warm to the touch so I think they are fire safe. My tree cost me, my cat and the environment very little.

 My tree does look beautiful at night with the lights twinkling. Even during the day, the tree has an artsy look I like. And, it is a visual reminder of my father's death at Christmas and his life with me and my mother. He and I always put up a tree together. When I was young, he got such fun out of playing Santa, hiding toys all over the house for me to find. My tree this year sparkles with the magic of memories.

One of the best memories I have of Christmas past, and one that I have carried with me for over 40 years, was "flicking the lights" on Christmas morning with my dear friend.

I don't remember when it started, but in all honesty, I don't remember ever not doing it. Every Christmas morning, the "little girl across the street", Chrissie, and I would wake up and look out our front windwos for each other. Once we saw the other was looking, we would begin furiously flicking the outside lights to each other as if to say "I am here, Merry Christmas and I love you" This went on throughout elementary, middle and high school and college. The year I graduated from college, I moved to Washington DC and eventually to North Carolina. But, it never failed, Chrissie and I would call each other every Christmas morning and she would be flicking her lights in Michigan as I was flicking them in North Carolina.

In 2004, Chrissie was diagnosed with leukemia and had to undergo aggressive chemo. In the beginning of December, she had a reaction to some platelets she had received and almost didn't make it. But, once again, the woman I loved as a sister, fought and was able to come home just in time for Christmas. She called me on Christmas morning and we flicked the lights together. It was the most wonderful Christmas gift I could have received.

The follwing year, once again, Chrissie was sick after undergoing a bone marrow transplant. But, toward the evening, she called and we flicked our lights together once more time. Little did either of us know it would be the last time.

In January, Chrissie was rediagnosed with leukemia and given a short time to live. IN February, 2006, Chrissie lost her battle and left this world.

IN 2006, I was so sad that I would not be able to flick the lights with my Dear Chrissie. But, after telling another dear friend of my sadness, I received a phone call from him to let me know he was flicking the lights for me. and so, the tradition continues.

Every Christmas, I will awake and flick the lights, knowing that Chrissie can see them from wherever she may be. And, I have to wonder if those twinking stars in the December sky may be Chrissie's way of flicking the lights for me. Maybe not, but I sure like to believe that!

Our family (mother, dad, two brothers and their wives, their
8 children – 5 with husbands or wives and 8 children), myself
and husband.  To cut down on the expense and the chore of
choosing the “perfect” gifts, with full agreement from the entire
family we decided to draw names, and no more than $15 would be
spent on the Christmas gift for the name drawn.
 
We met at my home,  I had put names in a lovely deep bowl,
and each family member drew out a name from the bowl.  I
admonished everyone “please keep the name you have drawn
a secret, don’t share whose name you have with anyone.”
They all agreed.  I was the last one to take the last name from
the bowl.  
 
After my draw, I said:  “Oh Gosh! I’ve drawn my
own name.”  Everyone looked astonished and all 29 in the room
said: “I drew your name!”  That’s right, in that bowl every slip
of paper had MY name on it.  We had a great laugh and I then
passed the bowl with slips of paper that had each of our names on them.
 
Betty Sher
Pittsboro, N.C.
 

By Carol Weaver Paulonis

   It was just before Christmas, and I was 5 years old.  My younger sister Judy and I were playing upstairs in our family's new house.  We had just moved, in 1945, and we hadn't many toys, furniture, or rugs in the chilly, raw new house.  Just after World War II, the industrial economy was unstable, as it retooled for peacetime, and it affected Dad's job.  So, that week, he was supporting us by shoveling deep wet snow off the railroad tracks after a heavy storm.

   As we enjoyed our few playthings in that little room, we didn't really miss the dolls and other toys that didn't seem to make the move with us.  But when we wanted to go into the closet, it was locked.  The key was at the top of the door frame .  I pulled and pushed a small dresser nearer the door, and got down the key.

   "Judy!  Santa Clause came early!  Here is your doll and here's mine, and they have new clothes.  And our toys are all clean and fixed.
   "Mommy!  Mommy!  Santa came and fixed all our toys!  And look:  there's a new train!"

   Mom was not delighted.  She was downright dismayed.  They had saved, and used, every dollar they had to buy their first home, and there was nothing left for Christmas gifts.  Grandma's sewing skills provided the new doll clothing.  Mom and Dad repaired and refurbished many of our old toys so we would have some excitement on Christmas morning.  Dad had hand-made the wooden train and other traditional toys, and lovingly painted them bright colors.

  So what happened Christmas morning?  Dad, a movie-camera buff, recorded our coming downstairs to the now-familiar toys.  The movie documents our smiles and happiness with them.  Under the tree were other gifts, too, from Aunts and Uncles.  As we visited Dad's relatives on Christmas afternoon, more gifts awaited us.

   What became of the lovely train, I don't know.  A short time after Christmas, Dad took off the cup hooks that connected the cars, because they were needed in the kitchen cupboard.  Since it was no longer a train, I suspect we lost interest.

   Within a few years, the U.S. entered a time of prosperity, where jobs were more secure.  The hard times of the 1930's and 1940's were over for many.  To our family, though, that Christmas of 1945 was a true measure of the meaning of giving.  Love, Sacrifice, and Giving are words of the season and words to remember.

I feel so sorry for kids today, now that the holidays have been made so safe. (Please don't tell my kids.)

 Every commercial and news item nowadays is about " holiday safety", as if there were something inherently dangerous about  Christmas.  My favorite memory of growing up near Baltimore  is the Christmas tree bonfire at our church on Epiphany.

Every family would bring their dried-up, bald tree and throw it onto the pile, then go into the church for a carol sing. Since we were German Lutherans, it was a chance to sing all those beautiful old carols that you never, ever hear on the radio. After the carols, everyone would rush outside and the men would light the bonfire. First there came a soft hiss, then a flash of gold and a crackling, then everyone would cheer as the beautiful white pillar of fire roared up into the starry sky.

Of course they can't do this now- the insurance people would have a fit, it's environmentally insensitive, it could be seen by certain petty-minded fundamentalists as pagan, and many other modern reasons. But to an innocent little kid in 1965, it was glorious.

Cindy Stammers, Raleigh