The year was 1976…
Wow… it’s 90 outside and all I can think of is “I’d give anything for some snow”. How I miss the coldness of winter, and the warmth of Christmas. Lately I’ve spent a lot of time remembering what Christmas was like a child. As other memories of my childhood fade those joyous Christmas times seem like yesterday. For some reason my memory is not that one of a normal individual, I remember actually sleeping in my crib, the blue vinyl car seat I would ride in and a few other scattered mements of when I was a very small child. The one memory that I treasure most, you ask?
First, let me point out that back then there wasn’t all this worrying about being politically correct crap, and people went all out for Christmas. Everywhere you looked you could SEE Christmas. From the local grocery store to that house way out in the country, to the downtown businesses, even the city street lamps were decorated with tons of lights, in the shapes of little Christmas trees, and such. It was like a multi-colored sort of heaven for me. There was one thing in particular that was outstanding back then… the Biltmore Dairy bar’s HUGE evergreen tree that stood at the edge of their parking lot. I can only imagine how they managed to decorate the enormous tree, but every year with out a doubt, it got covered with those huge multi-colored lights… and to top it off a giant lit yellow star.
The year was 1976, and I was only 3. Now of course I can’t remember what month it was, but I do know it was either late November, or December. My aunt Alice had picked me up from my Granny’s house and I was going to spend the weekend with her. On our way back to her house she decided to stop and give me an up-close look-see at my favorite tree. As a matter of fact she pulled into the parking spot right under it. I will never forget it. She got me out of that blue car seat and stood me on the hood of her ‘67 Ford Galaxie. It was dusk and snow flurries fell all around us. I stood in awe looking up this giant tree. It seemed to touch the sky, and I was tickled to be there. Now don’t forget, I was only 3 (3 and a half to be exact) and curiosity set in. In the blink of an eye I reached out and grabbed the nearest bulb… and it burned! I let go as quick as I grabbed it, and aunt Alice looked to make sure I was ok. Amazingly even after being burned I didn’t want to leave.
Later in life when reminiscing with Alice about the incident, she pointed out that I didn’t cry from the burn, instead, I cried when she got me off the hood and put me back in the car to leave. I don’t recall that part… but I will NEVER forget how Christmas was burned into my memory!
