Favorite Christmas Memories

[wuapinmon]

So we don't threadjack the other one with stories of Christmas Past, use this one. I don't have time to add to right now, but I'll do it later.

[Pheidippides]

The time we gave my dad a leg lamp. Awesomeness.

[FN Phat]

My last Christmas with my grandpa. He figured it was going to be his last Christmas (he actually made it thru the next as well), so he called for a family reunion of sorts. The last time that all of the family was together. My grandpa was a WWII vet, heavy equipment operator in mines throughout Nevada and Idaho, raised on a SE Idaho ranch, man's man. For those that have seen Gran Torino, he was very much like Clint Eastwood's character. Towards the end of his days, as he was confined to the indoors, he took to learning the computer (or the "devil's machine"). On Christmas morning, he gave all of his children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren a Christmas card that he made on the computer. Each was unique and made especially for the recepient. Unfortunately, I have misplaced my card. I am not even sure what it said anymore. I know that it touched my heart. Everyone's card did. He sat back and smiled, soaking it all in. There was a sense of pride and dignity, that the emphazema (sp?) stole from him, that returned to him that Christmas day. He waited until everyone was done reading the cards to present my grandma's card to her. I am not sure what he wrote, as she quickly put it away, but she went over to his chair, hugged and kissed him and said, "I love you, Jay." It was the first time that I had heard my grandmother tell him this and by his reaction it had been awhile since he had heard it, as well. I will never forget the joy in my grandpa's eyes as he was surrounded by his loved ones, for what he thought was going to be his last Christmas.

[Coach McGuirk]

When my brother bought me my first surf board. I was 11. I'll never forget it. 6'2 Midget Smith.

[pellegrino]

Often my home teaching message during December is about Christmas memories. I ask people to remember the best gift they ever received and the best gift they ever gave. I always share mine, and then tie it in to the gift we all receive with Christ's birth. I always finish the lesson with a reading of Rossetti's "In the Bleak Mid Winter" challenge the family to think about what gift they will give Christ.

Best gift received:
I've been fortunate to receive a lot of great Christmas gifts, so this isn't perhaps the best actual gift (first child was better) but it was one that is very memorable. When I was in 5th grade all I wanted was a double tape deck player (I realize I'm dating myself). Money was tight and I wasn't sure it would come through. Sure enough, Christmas morning under the tree was a package of a conspicuous size and with it was a Mister Mr. cassette. It wasn't great quality, but I wore that player out, pirated all of my friends' cassettes and made numerous tapes of favorite songs. It was a great gift that lasted a long time and made many memories.

Best gift given:
Because of the size of my family we exchange names and so you are responsible for giving a gift to just one person. My first Christmas home from the mission was at the beginning of the Jazz's glory years. My dad has been a Jazz fan since they came to Utah and we grew up listening to him yell at the TV. Needless to say he rarely misses watching a game. He is also a pretty good player. At 70 he still plays three times a week and regularly hits three pointers. I decided to get him a new ball that year and I got a good deal on an official NBA leather Wilson. It's important to realize that my Dad had never bought himself a nice ball, they were always blue light specials, cheap things that began going out of round and get flat within weeks of purchasing them.

When he opened the box he just saw a new ball, and was happy about that. It was cool to see him smile as he took it out of the box and put it in his lap. About ten minutes later, after he had examined the ball more thoroughly, he noticed that it was a) leather, and b) had NBA official ball written on it. He looked over at me in disbelief and asked "Is this an official ball?" I told him that was what the ball said, so it must be. His face lit up, he took it into his hands, shot it up in the air and exclaimed "So this is the one Karl plays with!" I don't remember what I got that Christmas, I hope I never do, because it would spoil that memory.

[happyone]

Here is one

The first one is when my sister came home from her mission. She was scheduled to come home the first week of January. She was actually released the 22 or so of December. However, she got with the mission home and managed to keep her travel plans from my parents. My other sister picked he up at the airport on the 23rd and the missionary spent the night at my other sisters home. They didn't let any of the rest of know what was going on.

Our big family Christmas dinner has always been on Christmas Eve. The way my parents home is, the entrance is shielded from the living room. Any way we were sitting in the living room and heard the door open and some one come up the steps, the missionary comes up the steps turns the corner and says "Hi Mom, I home". We have a picture of my mom's face when she recognized her that is just priceless. She is completely stunned.

I'm still not sure how she was able to pull it off. She has threatened her boys that if they ever pull a stunt like that she will die of a heart attack and come back to haunt them for all eternity.

[kccougar]

Best gift & memory: The year my younger brother and I got authentic Dallas Cowboy jerseys (don't worry, I've since repented of being a Cowboys fan).

My brother is 2 years younger than I and growing up we spent hours and hours in our large backyard playing every sport you could think of but most often we recreated football games. We would pick two teams and he would be the quarterback and I would be the wide receiver. We would plan the route, then I would run it and he would throw. Then we'd have to pause while he ran over to me and acted the part of the defensive back where one of of would re-toss the ball up and then we'd finish the play.

Our favorite team was the Dallas Cowboys. My brother was always Danny White. I was either Drew Pearson or Tony Hill. One year my parents bought us authentic jerseys with White's and Pearson's names and numbers. This was obviously pre-internet and we lived in Kansas it wasn't particularly easy to get the jerseys. They had to order them through the mail from some place in Texas.

I have a great picture of us standing in the middle of the family room sporting the jerseys with accompanying Cowboys wristbands and hats. It seemed the best Christmas ever.

[YOhio]

Here is one

The first one is when my sister came home from her mission. She was scheduled to come home the first week of January. She was actually released the 22 or so of December. However, she got with the mission home and managed to keep her travel plans from my parents. My other sister picked he up at the airport on the 23rd and the missionary spent the night at my other sisters home. They didn't let any of the rest of know what was going on.

Our big family Christmas dinner has always been on Christmas Eve. The way my parents home is, the entrance is shielded from the living room. Any way we were sitting in the living room and heard the door open and some one come up the steps, the missionary comes up the steps turns the corner and says "Hi Mom, I home". We have a picture of my mom's face when she recognized her that is just priceless. She is completely stunned.

I'm still not sure how she was able to pull it off. She has threatened her boys that if they ever pull a stunt like that she will die of a heart attack and come back to haunt them for all eternity.

Great story.

[Indy Coug]

http://www.cougaruteforum.com/showpost.php?p=213786&postcount=10

[happyone]

http://www.cougaruteforum.com/showpo...6&postcount=10

This one is kind of along the lines of Indy's. It is partly my memories and family lore, so bear with me.

THis was the Chirstmas of 1965, the year before my father went to Viet Nam.

That year we had a couple of LT's from his unit (one was LDS and my parents kind of adopted him and his roommate) in addition to all of the other single GI and missionaries - we must have had 25 people or more that year, over for Christmas Eve. ( I was 8 at the time) I actually remember some of the evenings actities. When they sent us kids to bed, these two young men helped Santa Clause and finally, my parents sent them home at about 2:00. They asked if they could come back for Christmas morning and my parents said yes and sent them home saying that we let the kids out at 6:00. Appearently they didn't go home, and just went into the back yard and waited. About 5:00 my parents heard tapping at their window and these two guys asked if they could come in because they were cold. That year Santa got moved up an hour. That is the only time I can remember having other people there for Christmas morning.

The epilog to this story is that is was the last Christmas one of the young men spent in the US. He was killed in Viet Nam in July 1967 while earning a DSC.

I have been to wall in DC a couple of times and when I look up his name I always remember that Christmas Eve and morning

Remember those who are in Harms Way this season

[wuapinmon]

I was working (20+ hours a week) at a store called Media Play in late December 1995 in Kennesaw, Georgia. My mission ended ten months before that, and I was a struggling student going to Georgia Tech and working three jobs to keep up (no loans). I lived at home, and I commuted between Acworth, Georgia and Georgia Tech every day.

http://maps.google.com/maps?saddr=3185+Kellogg+Creek+Rd,+Acworth,+GA+30102-1084+(Family+Thompson+Farm)&geocode=CTWamZs1vdiOFa99CAIdC3f0-iFbUVJoajXP6w&dirflg=&daddr=georgia+tech&f=d&dq=thompson+farms+loc:+ln+Acworth,+GA+30102&sll=34.110895,-84.642037&sspn=0.071585,0.080783&ie=UTF8&z=11

I also worked twenty hours a week at McDonald's (they paid for my books). I was maxed out and tapped out, but I was getting good grades and enjoying being home and working and young.

My parents gave me my mom's old 1984 Dodge Daytona to drive, since they had let my 1984 Ford Escort (Diesel!) mold in the driveway while I was gone (they never drove it once....grrrr!). The car was nicknamed the General Lee, because one Winter when we had a really hard freeze, my mom and sister had tried to get in the car, and both lock mechanisms had shattered inside the doors. It was hundreds of $$$ to get them fixed, so my big <redacted> climbed in the windows, Duke boys style, to go anywhere. I had a plastic sheet to put up on one so that the rain didn't get in. I did this for about 9 months. On my way to take a final exam, the car died. BOOM!

I had it towed to Goodyear. I was working at Media Play, talking about how it was going to cost me $180 to fix it, when this beautiful little old lady walked up and asked me for some help--her hair was perfect white/gray and she had a light in her eyes that I'll never forget. She wanted a Sega Game Gear for some foster children she was involved with, but no one had them, anywhere, and she wondered if we could help. We didn't have any, but I said I'd help her, and I called every Media Play in the metro area, and I found one, the last one, at our Buckhead store. She was elated, and had me get the store manager to promise to hold it for her, that she was on her way.

When I hung up the phone, she came over and gave me a hug, and took her right hand and shoved it, gently, into the pockets on the front of my uniform apron. She said something like, "Don't look in there until I'm gone, or it'll disappear."

It never dawned on me what she had done until I saw her leave the store doors, and I reached my hand into my pocket and pulled out $180 in $20s.

That was a great Christmas story. Sometimes the romantic in me wonders if she was an angel, but then the rational side of me says that's nonsense.

My dad's company wound up doing better, and the day after Christmas we went and bought a 1995 Ford Escort LX, affectionately known as Bob Marley by my friends due to a gigantic sticker on the back window." My dad gave me $100 a month and the insurance (as long as I stayed in school), and I had to pay the rest.

That was a great deal. Sometimes, I wish I could find that lady (angel) and give her a big hug back. What I did in no way equaled her generosity, and makes me want to be rich so I could go around making people merry in the same way.

[wuapinmon]

So, tonight, we finally got around to decorating the Christmas tree. It's been up for about two weeks, but we hadn't decorated it yet because we didn't have time (end of semester) and because several of the lights were burned out and I needed to fix them.

Last year, the day after Christmas, at Target I bought one of those "Light Keeper" things for fixing twinkle lights. Folks, it works. Plug it in, a few clicks, and they all work again. If that doesn't work, you scan along with a red laser light for the electric field, and when it stops beeping, you've found the bad light.

Anyway, while we were doing that, wuapinmon IV got into the box of ornaments and found one from my Aunt Connie that was a little red glass ball with his name in gold glitter on it. She ties an ornament with your name on it to everyone's Christmas present. Jack is 3 1/2, and recognized his name. That was the coolest thing ever to him. He kept raving about it. We warned him not to take ornaments off the tree. He didn't listen. He did it again, so I made him go stand in the corner in the kitchen. While he was in the corner, I stepped back after hanging an ornament and "POP!" His little Jack ornament was turned into dust under my shoe. We vaccuumed it up, but when he came back from the corner, he asked where it was. I didn't want to lie to him, so I told that I had accidentally stepped on it because he left it on the floor, and ornaments are fragile.

He started choking back tears while he kept asking, his little eyes just welling with lacrimonious hurt, "Dad, why would you step on my ornament?" Over and over again. I started crying, my mom, his mom, my daughter. We're all fighting tears as he keeps asking in the tenderest most-sincere little voice ever, "Why would you do that?"

I don't think I've ever felt worse as a parent; especially not for something that was an accident. We finally got him better by promising the make some more "glitter balls" tomorrow with him.

Man, it was so tender. I'll never forget it.

[happyone]

I was working (20+ hours a week) at a store called Media Play in late December 1995 in Kennesaw, Georgia. My mission ended ten months before that, and I was a struggling student going to Georgia Tech and working three jobs to keep up (no loans). I lived at home, and I commuted between Acworth, Georgia and Georgia Tech every day.

http://maps.google.com/maps?saddr=3185+Kellogg+Creek+Rd,+Acworth,+GA+30102-1084+(Family+Thompson+Farm)&geocode=CTWamZs1vdiOFa99CAIdC3f0-iFbUVJoajXP6w&dirflg=&daddr=georgia+tech&f=d&dq=thompson+farms+loc:+ln+Acworth,+GA+30102&sll=34.110895,-84.642037&sspn=0.071585,0.080783&ie=UTF8&z=11

I also worked twenty hours a week at McDonald's (they paid for my books). I was maxed out and tapped out, but I was getting good grades and enjoying being home and working and young.

My parents gave me my mom's old 1984 Dodge Daytona to drive, since they had let my 1984 Ford Escort (Diesel!) mold in the driveway while I was gone (they never drove it once....grrrr!). The car was nicknamed the General Lee, because one Winter when we had a really hard freeze, my mom and sister had tried to get in the car, and both lock mechanisms had shattered inside the doors. It was hundreds of $$$ to get them fixed, so my big <redacted> climbed in the windows, Duke boys style, to go anywhere. I had a plastic sheet to put up on one so that the rain didn't get in. I did this for about 9 months. On my way to take a final exam, the car died. BOOM!

I had it towed to Goodyear. I was working at Media Play, talking about how it was going to cost me $180 to fix it, when this beautiful little old lady walked up and asked me for some help--her hair was perfect white/gray and she had a light in her eyes that I'll never forget. She wanted a Sega Game Gear for some foster children she was involved with, but no one had them, anywhere, and she wondered if we could help. We didn't have any, but I said I'd help her, and I called every Media Play in the metro area, and I found one, the last one, at our Buckhead store. She was elated, and had me get the store manager to promise to hold it for her, that she was on her way.

When I hung up the phone, she came over and gave me a hug, and took her right hand and shoved it, gently, into the pockets on the front of my uniform apron. She said something like, "Don't look in there until I'm gone, or it'll disappear."

It never dawned on me what she had done until I saw her leave the store doors, and I reached my hand into my pocket and pulled out $180 in $20s.

That was a great Christmas story. Sometimes the romantic in me wonders if she was an angel, but then the rational side of me says that's nonsense.

My dad's company wound up doing better, and the day after Christmas we went and bought a 1995 Ford Escort LX, affectionately known as Bob Marley by my friends due to a gigantic sticker on the back window." My dad gave me $100 a month and the insurance (as long as I stayed in school), and I had to pay the rest.

That was a great deal. Sometimes, I wish I could find that lady (angel) and give her a big hug back. What I did in no way equaled her generosity, and makes me want to be rich so I could go around making people merry in the same way.

Touching story. I really liked it.

[Surfah]

Going out with the missionaries last night reminded me of one of my favorite Christmases when the Elders were complaining to me that they have transfers Christmas Eve next week.

I spent my first 6 months of my mission in my greenie area covering most of Denver and the eastern suburbs like Aurora, and even south all the way to Castle Rock (Being one of 12 Spanish speaking missionaries are areas were huge). As you can imagine I had become close with the ward members and several investigators in the 6 months I spent there. Several members had made plans to have us over and I was looking forward to the holiday. A few days before Christmas though we got a phone call. I was being transferred to the San Luis Valley (Alamosa), CO. I was opening up a brand new area that had no Spanish branch or ward. That little place is weird. It's like 50% Mo. They have huge active wards with two stakes down there. They also have a large migrant worker population.

The stake had disbanded their Spanish branches years before and lost all of their Spanish members to inactivity with a year. They wanted to reestablish these units and asked our MP for missionaries to help facilitate this. They assigned a HC member and his family to oversee/preside over this 'group' as it was called since it wasn't an official unit. We only had Sacrament Meeting and a joint Sunday School in the chapel afterward. The HC and his wife both served Spanish missions which is why they were called. The husband led Sacrament and the wife led SS. Our first Sunday we had church with the HC family and one investigator. There was 7 of us total counting me and my comp. The HC's family had us over for Christmas Eve. But Christmas day we had nowhere to go so we volunteered at the VFW Hall to serve food. They told us we could eat if we served food. It was a lot of fun. We ended up serving all the food and all that was left to eat were about 12 pumpkin pies. So me and my comp each ate one for Christmas dinner. We then raced our mountain bikes on a BMX track until our lungs were going to burst.

Then we called home. My parents (like all parents of missionaries do) had the missionaries over. My mother told me the spread she put out for them and the gifts they bought for them. When she asked what we did she began to bawl on the phone and said that if I am not eating on Christmas that she wouldn't either. I reassured her I was fine and that I was having a great Christmas. I talked with the rest of my family. Me and my comp opened our gifts from home. My comp got a Hickory Farms package so we stuffed ourselves with summer sausage, a cheese log, and crackers and hung out the rest of the evening taking turns talking to family and friends.

That area was my most difficult, but the most rewarding. 4 1/2 months later I was transferred away and I was sad to get on that bus. We had a ton of success in that area reactivating several members and had a number of baptisms including an awesome family of 5. The group became a branch. The father of that family of 5 became a Branch President. And when I left we had over 70 people at Church. That is probably my favorite Christmas memory.

[wuapinmon]

Surfah's post reminded me of Christmas Day 1994, a Sunday. I was in Guácimo, Limón, Costa Rica, and we baptized two little girls whose mom was a member. It was a nice time, and a branch family invited us over for a full Costa-Rican Christmas spread (rice, beans) complete with exorbitant luxuries like apples and grapes.

Anyway, our next zone conference, the APs pull us aside and tell us that one of the girls we baptized was already a member, and that Guatemala was "bravo" with our lack of carefulness. I pointed out that the mom said she wasn't a member, the little girl didn't remember being baptized, and that we had requested her records and not gotten any.

Anyway, under the "Nueves Políticas" or "New Rules" section of zone conference, I sat beaming with pride and amusement at the announcement of "Número Uno: no hay que bautizar a los que ya han sido bautizados."

Spoiler for Translation:

"Number One: You should not baptize people who have already been baptized."