Holiday Memories

There is not a Thanksgiving that goes by that I don't think about memories about my family. When we lived on 181 South Main Street in Malad, the house near the new Middle School there, I sat at the table early Thanksgiving morning. My mother was at the stove stirring something, and Grandma Liza sat next to me. I was three or four years old--probably three, because I don't have a memory of my sister being there that day. I had been asking every adult I knew when Santa Claus was going to arrive, because there was a good dusting of snow on the mountains that morning. Grandma Liza pointed at the foothills. I can't remember whether she lifted me up to see through the window in the door, or if she pointed through the eastern kitchen window near the table on the eastern side of the house, but she told me that when the snow fell around the house, then Santa would soon arrive.

The smells of turkey roasting in the oven, cooked pies and all the other things remind me of those times that seemed so simple in my mind, yet I am sure there were also worries on the minds of the adults.

This was the typical Thanksgiving I remember, although this particular one happened one year before my entering the world. My parents married in June of '51, this picture was in November of '51. My birth was in late October of 1952, just under a year after this picture. Grandma always liked having Thanksgiving at her house, and everyone was there. It was a time I looked forward to attending. Cousins were there that I did not usually see, and we always sat at a smaller table while the adults ate and then laughed and talked.

Although this was not a picture at a Thanksgiving dinner, it was in the same room on the same large table. It was the large table here where the adults sat, and the cousins were at fold-up, card tables. The boys always liked the one with the checkerboard top that grandma had--a table where we sometimes played checkers. This dinner happened spontaneously. Julie and her parents arrived for a visit, and grandma called us to come for dinner. Dad had just arrived from the ranch. Dinner was ready, and grandma insisted that everyone come as we were. I think grandma was lonesome that day, and it probably felt nice to have the family around her. We did not dress for dinner, but she used her china that she always used for holiday dinners.

Christmas was my dad's favorite time of year, and he always had his signature tree, shaped like many other Welsh members of our family--a tree with "full branches," as wide as it was tall. In the early years, I remember the stringy icicles we placed on the trees. My dad soon taught me how to drag my feet across the carpet point at one, and the static would draw one dangling, silver string toward my finger and give me a start with a pop. I remember how dad laughed the first time he did that, and I will never be sure if he did it to see me reaction, to instruct me in basic science concepts or to tease me like he did on occasion. But it definitely was something that soon empowered me to haunt my sisters by using the same shuffling stocking-covered feet to generate enough power to ever gently tough the side of an ear.

The picture of my dad is also a bit haunting, because I can see that my dad was not feeling well. It shows in his face. This picture was in the late 80's, just after the initial battle with cancer and a short time before it tragically returned. I have used this next picture several times.

My fascination with it is because it was grandpa's last Christmas. He had complained of his hand feeling numb for a long time. In this picture he holds his left hand strangely in his lap. Dad told me how he would rub it with his other hand or shake it because of the tingling sensation. And I like this picture because of the setting. This was the dining room area of Grandma Liza's house on Bannock Street. The left corner, where the tree was, is where grandma had her Sylvania black and white television. When she watched us on an occasional Friday night, it was where my sisters and I sat on the floor watching Nightmare Theater, which aired every Friday night at 10:13. The time seems strange, because it always came after the news, and today the news runs at a different time, but I distinctly remember the time being 10:13 for that program. Before we sat in pajamas watching that program, grandma stuffed us with banana nut splits, pie, candy and chocolate. My parents would pick us up late that night, usually after the "scary movie," and then we would return home to our own beds, where at least one of the three of us would throw up all of the massive amounts of food my grandma spoiled us with. Dad finally told Grandma Liza about that, and then she cut the sugar rations in half. We didn't throw up any more, but we still were able to get tastes of great things at grandma's house.

I was in the seventh grade in this picture. We were in a rental home, waiting for the house on Bannock to be finished. That would happen a few months after Christmas. The hair style I wore lasted only that year. The teasing I took at school about "curly hair" explains why I kept it short, even during the 60's. Anything longer than a few inches on top turned into curls, and even when I used something to dry my hair so it would be straight, a slight rain or bit of snow would make me look like a Chia Pet.

This picture of Cles shows how we once also shared my family's tradition of having large pinion trees at Christmas. It took years to figure out why I always became sick during the holidays. I was allergic to trees, and my own children were the same way. It was not until our second year in Idaho Falls that we finally bought an artificial tree, and that one lasted until Christmas of '07, when we finally purchased a new one.

I will always miss the smell of pine, and I think my children do too, yet my grandchildren also get excited about having any kind of tree. In fact, they notice the decorations more than the tree, especially given the fact that we have specific ones that are fun. Tommy and Jack love the one like a tiny bugle. It is actually functional. Both boys also like the Star Wars decorations.

But when it comes to Christmas traditions, one thing stands out for my little ones: my two trains. As soon as I finish putting them out this year, I will do a blog about each one with a video clip.

This picture shows the first year when that tradition began. We had both boys with us when we purchased the large train at Sam's Club. They put on a show with the customers in the store. As I pushed the cart to the check stand, Tommy ran along at my side, not letting me or the train out of his sight for a minute. "Toot, Toot---!" he would yell. Jack then would yell, "All aboard." It was fun, and people in the store grinned. Both boys watched the box in the front room the entire day, and when I opened it, the next morning, the only way I could keep busy fingers away was by having Lydia put them on my back.

This picture of Lydia is also one that brings back memories. My parents eventually began buying an Austrian pine, and this one shows Lydia under the tree on her first Christmas. I always thought we never had anything pink on my daughters, but not only is her dress pink, but the blanket that my Annie's Grandma Peterson made for her has pink in it too.

And this last picture is one I will always remember as well. All my children enjoyed having Santa arrive to bring a few presents after a Christmas Eve dinner on Bannock Street, but Kristin enjoyed it the most. The expression on her face reminds me so much of Jack. The excitement and magic of Christmas is in her face.

The funny part about those Santa visits is Larry Thomas. He was a great Santa, but there was one problem: he taught Cles in church, and he always mispronounced the name as "Cleese." The first night he came as a Santa, Cles picked up on it immediately, and we still laugh about it. It was too late to take any magic away from a Christmas for Cles. By that time, he had been spending years in the weeks before each Christmas looking for gifts.

Lydia liked the visit, but she did not like the thought of sitting on the lap of a hairy old man. And she counted the presents each person received to ensure that each person had a equitable Christmas. It makes me smile. I love how each child's personality is different and interesting, but I especially appreciate that my children and grandchildren are intelligent, and like their grandparents, they do dumb things on occasion.

The family eventually became too large for Grandma Liza's dining room, and in the last year the cousins were at a table in the basement, which did not bother us, but grandma didn't like it at all. Then we began a few years of renting the Eagles Auxiliary Hall, the large red-bricked building across the street from the Malad Drive-In. It was fun for the cousins, because at that time, the swimming pool was not even an idea in the minds of anyone in Malad. A large hole in the old LeGrande Dance Hall allowed us to enter, and we spent ours sliding on the dusty floor and looking around the entire vacated place. For us it was adventure. Our mothers hated it. Each child arrived for dinner dressed in nice clothes, and we emerged from our adventures in smudged and torn clothing. We only spent two or three Thanksgivings there.

There were also the family dinners we had at a park in Garland. During this particular one, a couple of things happened that were funny. The "after dinner" picture created a bit of a stir, because those posing either didn't pay attention, or others didn't show up. No one really wanted their picture taken that day. There were too many exciting things happening. Like the event that happened just as it was getting dark. The older cousins spotted a local teen and a girl sneaking into a baseball dugout. When the rest of us saw the two oldest crawling on the stomachs across the grass to spy on them, we joined them in the new game without knowing what they were looking for in the darkness. Suddenly, there was movement in the dugout. The teen caught several of us and threatened us about saying a word about his being there. It was years before I realized what possibly was happening, but the older cousins definitely knew what was happening, because they experienced what no one else in the family did--dinner with family and a show. The teen threatened those of us who had no idea we needed to run when we were supposed to run. As I remember, Uncle Dave and Aunt Norm came to our rescue.

And then the last thing happened. Grandma Thomas was getting quite old at the time. It was just before the family had her placed in the nursing home. She sat in a chair most of the day, requiring people to help her walk. We had a campfire that night. Grandma Thomas sat near the fire in her chair. One of the cousins threw a couple of firecrackers into the flames. My Great Grandma Thomas went from candidate for a wheelchair to Olympic sprinter. I remember my dad teasing grandma how fast she jumped up from her chair and made a dash, and she smiled. No one ever really found out who had the frecrackers.

And then there were the famly dinners at Power House. All of the cousins had fun playing in the shade of the trees, catching frogs--or what we thought were frogs in the stream--catching hell from our mothers for handling toads. The picture of my mother and me is at a difficult time, and we are sitting at our table at Power House during one of those dinners. I remember my dad telling me about this picture in the 80's. He told me that it was after the death of Grandpa Cles. He put on a lot of weight; he was unhappy and he found it difficult as a young man trying to operate a large farm and cope with the loss of his father at the same time.

Personally I can't imagine what pressure he must have had at that time. My grandfather and dad were very close. For years, our summer vacation was a marathon driving event which usually ended up near Challis in a place dad referred to as Selway. It was where he hunted elk with his dad, and as I remember, he drove quietly as he arrived at "the spot." I now know he was remembering his dad and the things they experienced there. We would always stop and walk across a bridge that led to where they hunted together, and sometimes dad would tell stories about some of those huntng trips. Dad was also very protective of Grandma Liza. He treated her with the utmost respect.

The holidays are about families, and the fun part is how memories of the present sometimes join with the past to form new versions of those old traditions, and occasionally new things emerge to make the season enjoyable. The fun we share is something that lasts a very long time.

Life goes by so quickly. Family members bring us comfort during difficult times. That comfort embraces us and supports us as we talk to those near to us and remember those who are no longer with us. Those positive moments we remember is something needed by everyone, not just during the holidays, but on every day of the year.