My mom says, when she was about 3 years old, she had the pivotal childhood Santa Claus experience. Her uncle Walt (a dentist with a great sense of humor) had a friend who would dress up as Santa Claus and go to people's houses. This Santa came to their house as holiday 'entertainment for the children'. She and her brother were both so frightened by the character they hid behind the couch, and would have nothing to do with the spectacle.
So when her own kids were little, she decided to separate the saint from the commercial image. Mom really loves children (she had 9 of them on purpose) and the fact that St. Nicholas is a revered Catholic Saint, as well as the patron saint of children made her want to create a tradition outside the commercial one. Bully for her! Mom was counter-culture long before it was fashionable.
She refused to tell us that Santa came down the chimney, and left the gifts. In our house the gifts all had tags, with names on them showing exactly who the giver was. I remember being surprised when I witnessed my friend's homes, and the elaborate story of Santa giving gifts to every child in the world all in one night. I remember wondering what he did for the children who had no chimney.
Mom's counter-tradition worked like this: On December 6 she got out the stockings... funny odd socks from each of our own pasts. Mine was a thick, knitted knee hi I'd outgrown. The socks probably morphed through the years, but my old knee-hi is still in Mom's Christmas box. It is 50 years old by now.
The stockings were hung at the fireplace, how fortunate that we always did have a real fireplace. Mom put nuts, a tangerine, a chocolate marshmallow Santa, chapstick, little mini kleenex and chocolate kisses in each one. After dinner we got to take down our stocking, which became the desert portion of the evening. To this day I have a real thing for chocolate and marshmallow. Now Russel Stover makes them with dark chocolate, wow, too much!
We would all go through our stockings, (anywhere from 7 to 10 of us at the table) exclaiming at each little gift. As we got older my siblings would get little gifts for each other, and then it got to be even more fun. One year Brama, Mom's mother, put a lottery ticket in each stocking. I did not realize till then that she secretly liked gambling. It was great fun to scratch off my very first lottery ticket. I loved the slightly mischievous smile on her face. I can still see her delighted grin as she watched her grand kids excitedly scratching off their possible millions.
After the stockings had been emptied we opened the chocolate kisses and someone took the foil and molded a little sculpture of a Christmas donkey, or a stocking, or a tree. I don't exactly recall, but it pleased Mom so much, she rewarded the creativity with another chocolate kiss. As children, eager to amass a candy arsenal, we all began to intently fashion our little foil wrappers into fantastic shapes. By the end of desert we had a small gallery of foil artwork, which covered the middle of the dining room table, and was left there for days, even weeks to enjoy. We have continued that tradition for over 45 years now. We did that same game last Saturday. It made Mom laugh. She is fun to laugh with and it is pretty easy to get her going.
I fashioned Schwartz Peter's sack, with which he might gather bad children to throw into the river. I am not making this up... this was all written on Wikipedia. Santa has a dark helper, very "Grimm's Fairy Tales", in many European traditions, especially the Germans, our forebears. If nothing else besides BMW's and the autobahn, the Germans really know about 'discipline'.
The laughter flowed as we read all the funny traditions of St. Nicholas, and of the history. He is the patron saint of unmarried women, pawnbrokers, sailors, carpenters, children.... the list goes on. Look it up, and you will never see the fat red and white commercial image the same way.
This is an homage to you, Mom, for being a wonderfully and magically creative person. You encouraged your family to be creative. I am forever indebted to you for helping me see the world in all its color, diversity and silliness.
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