Author: Steve

Way back.  Before any of our children.  A week or so before Christmas, we marveled at Milan and Olga’s Christmas Tree.  I worked with Milan at Gates Rubber Company in Denver.  Dr. Milan Brokl.  He was an accomplished PhD chemist who knew everything about chemistry.  I was an assistant chemist with an associate’s degree and knew next to nothing compared to him.  He and Olga had a great backstory.  Milan was a chemistry instructor in Czechoslovakia and Olga was one of his students.  Czechoslovakia was part of the Soviet Union then, and any foreign trips were very tightly controlled.  Milan got a speaking engagement in East Germany and took his teaching assistant, Olga with him.  Together they escaped by swimming across a river one night, making their way to West Germany.  There it was safe for them to get married and continue on their way.  They never would have been allowed to travel outside the country as a married couple.  Such a mild-mannered man, none would ever suspect him of such subterfuge.  From West Germany they made it to the United States as defectors.  They could each speak some English, but the accent was so heavy it was difficult for some to follow.  I seemed to understand Milan better than others, so he used me sometimes to help him communicate.  We ended up friends.

So, that evening before Christmas, Judy and I were at Milan and Olga’s house marveling at the old-world candle holders and live candles on their tree.  The aroma was exquisite with all those little candles heating up the needles to release their fragrance.  At our house, a different night, they were impressed with our modern electric lights on our tree.

Next Christmas, guess what.  We had special old-world holders with lighted candles on our tree.

At Milan and Olga’s, they were so proud of their strings of electric lights.

Yes, we actually put lit candle flames on our Christmas Tree, and it was awesome.  And no, happily, we didn’t light anything else on fire or destroy the apartment building.  We did go back to electric lights every year after.

Every kid got a chance to lick a beater or a scraper.  If you’re not big enough to lean over a sink, next best place is on the floor.

Some years, Santa would make an appearance on Christmas Eve.  We would know he was near when we could hear the jangling of bells on the reindeer reins outside.  In with a load of ho-ho-hos and a big bag of presents.  One year, I recall brother Bill was there, and Santa was surprised to see him.  Santa had missed him in Washington and was so glad to find him at our house because he still had the present for him.

Santa and kids weren’t very good at holding still for indoor photos.  Matt is the little kid in front, and Becky is the blur.  After a jolly celebration, Santa would go on his way with a chorus of ho-ho-hos, and jangling jingle bells, disappearing into the distance.  Shortly after, our friend Todd would show up to sleep on the couch and join in the Christmas morning celebration.  Todd fit right in at our house and was a big help around it whenever he was there.

That’s Mom’s elbow off to the right of the frame.  She would sleep upstairs on Christmas Eve so she could be there first thing in the morning.  After the kids fell asleep, Santa would fill their stockings upstairs so they could occupy themselves early in the morning.  It was a rule at our house that the kids couldn’t come downstairs on Christmas Day until it was light outside.  Mom recounted that one year she woke up and Becky was working her way through her Christmas stocking, describing each item out loud as she went.  When she was through, she then went through every item in her brother’s stocking before putting everything back together and waking him up!

Back about 1975, Christmas at our house looked like this:

A $5 permit in hand, we trudge through the snow in the mountains picking out the perfect tree to cut down.  We never wanted to cut off more than we had to, so sometimes the tree had to duck the ceiling a little.  Not many decorations, but we would buy one new box of Christmas ornaments every year knowing that eventually we could absolutely overload a tree.

A legacy from my childhood, there was the American Flyer train layout, different every year, with the Lionel transformer so the locomotives would have plenty of power.  Lots of practice putting train car wheels back on the tracks.  Drops down the smokestack of one of the engines would provide chuffing smoke (and a special aroma).  As presents started to accumulate they could be arranged as backstops and tunnels.  Running the trains was good for a week or two, until the tracks were overwhelmed by presents, even if we had to take the pack of a dozen Hot Wheels cars apart and wrap them all individually to accomplish our goal.

Reflections of my own overwhelming Christmases with presents piled high.  Later in life Mom told stories of Dad telling her that Christmas needed to be different this year.  We were just going to buy a few presents, then looking at the tree right before Christmas and declaring that this just won’t do, and going out shopping for a giant bag of toys because Christmas morning just has to “look right”.  So, Dad’s legacy to our legacy, Christmas just has to “look right.

Coyote through the windshield.

Not the ungulate tracks to the right, we’ve got white tailed deer, exotics, and javelina for that, but the small pointy, really sharp canine tracks on the left.  The tiny predator.

I’m thinking maybe gray fox.   Or maybe a Pomeranian in need of a pedicure.