Old time winter fun

It's now official, although the forecast was promising we did not have have a "White Christmas" in 2013. I can remember when I was really disappointed if there was no snow on the ground for the holidays, but now, I don't find it nearly so appealing. Still, my memories of so many activities from long past are a pleasant reminder of my youthful days.

Yes, as a kid I wanted a white Christmas. In my mind, Santa would have a difficult time getting his sleigh and reindeer to my house if there were no snow.

How life changes. These days, I would not mind if it never snowed. No worries about the driveway or sidewalks. Besides, we often have Decembers when one can still play golf. You have to have age-appropriate priorities.

Christmas decorations were a big part of my childhood. Our trees were always real. The decorating process was a ritual event. The Christmas lights never seemed to work right. I think it had something to do with how they were made electrically. If one light didn't work, none of them would. My father always had some spares, so we were assured of success.

There were blinking lights and one kind that was my favorite. This light had a liquid inside, and it sent bubbles rising to the top of what resembled a candle.

We had lots of Christmas ornaments to place on the tree. When everything was finally in place, we got to string the silver icicles, and lots of little candy canes.

Once everything was complete, we would sit for long periods of time, just watching the tree and the lights. No one had timers back then, so everything had to be shut down at night.

As the days neared for Christmas, packages began to gather on the floor at the foot of the tree. Our excitement and curiosity was almost unbearable. More than once, we would pick up the packages with our names on them to see if we could get any clue as to their contents.

Christmas stockings with our names on them were always placed near the tree. We had no fireplace, and that sort of bothered me. I had heard the Christmas poem about Santa many times, and in that story, he always came down the chimney. I don't remember what tale I was told to solve this mystery, but it must have satisfied my worries.

Our family had some traditions that never seemed to vary. Christmas Eve was the time to open gifts from family. We always had oyster soup on Christmas. I think the adults purposely dragged out the dinner and the cleanup. To us kids, it seemed as if the clock had almost come to a stop. It was agonizing, awaiting the time for presents.

Another family custom was the age order for opening our wrapped gifts. The youngest in the room got to go first and select one gift to open. We would read the name of the person who had given us the gift before opening them. I can still remember that it seemed like forever for my turn to come again.

We kids had been given a small amount of money in the days leading up to Christmas to buy gifts for our family members. It was not easy trying to find special things for everyone. Our grandparents always acted like our gifts were the best they had ever received, and it made us feel so satisfied that they were pleased.

On several occasions when I was young, Santa Claus paid our home a visit. Try as I might, I never was able to catch a glimpse of him. I can remember being in bed, and telling myself to stay awake and listen for him. Of course, it never worked.

We often had to travel to my father's family, in Warrensburg, on Christmas Day. I am glad that Nevada is finally in an athletic conference, but I'm not at all happy that Warrensburg is a member. Those trips seemed to take forever, and as far as I can see, there has been little improvement in that trek.

It we had a "white Christmas" we always wished for the wet kind of snow that would allow us to build a "snowman". Invariably, as we rolled the snow balls for the snowman, we made them so big, that we had trouble even stacking them in place.

When I was really young, we still lived in the country. My dad would pull us behind his tractor on our sleds. When we got too cold from playing in the snow and riding our sleds, we would come back in the house to warm up. My mother always seemed to have made hot cocoa from scratch. None of that stuff you buy in a box, mind you. She would add real marshmallows and the cocoa was so hot, that they would melt into a delicious goo.

Many evenings in the winter, some of the neighbors would come over for an old-fashioned weenie roast. My father always had some piles of brush that he would set on fire. We had long metal holders that we used to roast our hot dogs and more marshmallows. I don't care what anyone tells you, there is just no better way to eat either of these foods than by roasting them over a wood fire.

One more final memory of "white Christmas" times was our "goose chases." Once again, we donned our winter garb complete with snow boots. All of the kids began making a large circle path in the snow, then we made crisscross paths to connect the circle. It was almost like a game of snow tag. You tried to chase someone and make them the goose, but the rule was, you had to stay only on the paths.

I'm not going out and play in the snow or the ice these days, but that's alright, my memories of "white Christmas" times will do just fine.