Random Christmas Memories

When I was young, I loved Christmas. Most kids do, right? The first Christmas that I remember was probably when I was 5 years old. I woke up that morning, ran into the den, and waiting for me was a bright and shiny Rainbow Brite mini-kitchen! Complete with stove and refrigerator! (I took a Women's Studies class in college so I realize now that these types of 'toys' reinforce gender roles and stereotypes and blah blah but man, I love my Rainbow Brite kitchen.)





When I was six, my mother asked me what I wanted for Christmas. I rattling off a lengthy list; I believe it included a camper (like an RV) and a horse. My mom told me that if I asked for too many things, Santa wouldn't come at all.





I recently found a letter from Santa, stuck in a photo album from forever ago. I was probably 7 years old. My letter to Santa asked for only one thing: for our puppy, Sandy, to return home. (Sandy was a yellow lab that we only had a few weeks before she ran away.) Santa wrote back, saying that Sandy now lived with a really nice family, who had changed her name to Lady. I don't remember what I got that Christmas.





My family would go to Opryland Hotel here in Nashville for Christmas brunch each Christmas. My grandparents would come into town and stay at the hotel. My grandmother would take her big purse to the buffet and stick as much food as she could into it while going through the line. Mostly rolls and desserts.






One Christmas, that same grandmother received a Black and Decker Snakelight. She wrapped it around her neck like a scarf, turned it on, and Christmas proceeded as usual.