Christmas has been the season of giving since the Magi brought their gold, frankincense and myrrh to the young Christ child. While gift-giving has changed through the centuries, it’s still one of the main elements of most Christmas celebrations today.
Many of us can recall a favorite gift of our own or someone else’s that was special. There are several that still make me laugh to this day.
All of my childhood Christmas Eves were spent at my paternal grandmother’s house, where some 70 kin crowded around a tinsel-draped cedar tree cut from her pasture fencerow. We didn’t have much materially, but what we lacked in spending power, we more than made up for in laughter and fun.
Two of my uncles had a running game of who could give the most tacky or silly gift. Christmas 1972, they topped themselves. My Uncle Deb was as bald as you can get and endured merciless teasing from his more hirsute brothers. That year, Uncle Monroe got Deb a bald man’s brush – a plastic handle with a smooth contoured foam “brush” where bristles should be. Deb started laughing before he even got it open. An old 8mm movie shows him “combing” his hairless head while everyone erupts in hysterics. It’s a classic.
In 1968, Deb received a curly red wig. Being the good sport he was, he donned the hairpiece, grabbed a toy guitar and banjo my cousins had just opened, stuck one in Monroe’s hands and said, “Sing!” That impromptu concert is everyone’s favorite memory of that Christmas Eve.
Deb wasn’t the only one to get picked on. My shy Uncle Floyd got a “belly-button decorating kit” one year; we were relieved that he didn’t offer to model it.
Some of the big gift-giving changes in my lifetime have been what parents consider appropriate presents for children. For generations, weapons were common gifts for kids and teenagers. American boys (and a few tomboys like me) considered it a rite of passage to receive a pocketknife, a BB gun or a .22 rifle for Christmas. I got my first pocketknife (or folding knife as Dad called them) when I was 7. Dad said he got his in 1929 when he turned 6.
We all learned from an early age how to use a knife and shoot a .22. Country kids were expected to know how to use both. My new knife was quite handy – for cutting baling twine, leather strips to repair my saddle, cleaning my fingernails and opening packages for Mama. You could even take a knife to school back then. I carried mine from elementary through high school.
Dad entrusted us with BB guns when my brother and I turned 11 and 9. He “might oughta rethunk that one.” We quickly became crack shots at 20 feet and could take down all five of Mama’s empty Pepsi cans without reloading. We felt like Chuck Conners and John Wayne with our Daisy BB rifles in hand. Combined with the Nichols-Kusan cap pistols on our hip, we were ready to take on any bad guys that came our way. I can’t tell you how many times we pinched our fingers or smashed our thumbs taming our “Barnyard West,” but it didn’t lessen our enjoyment one bit.
My brother once decided to test the power of his rifle and put the barrel right on top of his shoe and pulled the trigger. It went right through and lodged in his big toe. Not wanting to lose rifle privileges, he took out his folding knife and dug out the BB. Surprisingly, it didn’t bleed much or get infected. That was a pretty normal occurrence in our generation; we just dealt with whatever and kept on playing.
My brother-in-crime and I also received bow and arrow sets one year. We thought we were Robin Hood and Little John protecting our Sherwood Forest. Problem was, we greatly overestimated our ability to retrieve our arrows. The neighbor’s pasture had knee-high dried grass and weeds – a perfect height for concealing our Christmas missiles. We never did find three of them.
I hope these recollections bring to mind some fond memories of your own. We all need a reminder that even if some loved ones are no longer with us, it can still be a wonderful time. The Christmas magic we enjoyed growing up was made possible by the unconditional love of our parents. For me, the holidays will always be fueled by that love and the kind of love that was born into that manger in Bethlehem so long ago.
If you don’t know that kind of love, I encourage you to seek it in this season of goodwill and peace, for Christ and His love is the real gift of Christmas.
by Tamra M. Bolton
