Sunday School Assignment - Write a Journal

Christmas Memories

c. 1958

My sisters and I were cold in the unheated, upstairs room, and it was difficult to leave the warmth of the thick wool blankets, but it was Christmas morning, and we were awake. Actually it was nearer to Christmas Eve than Christmas morning, perhaps three in the morning. So we crept to the door, trying to avoid stepping on any part of the floor that would creak. But we had no idea where it would creak, and it creaked. So did many of the stairs, but we crept on down and opened the door, which always creaked, especially on Christmas morning.

We looked out into the living room and saw the tree glittering in the faint light. And we saw presents, stockings, and treats, and about that time we heard Santa. We didn’t know it was Santa. We did know it was Daddy, and he would say, in a not-so-jolly voice, “You kids get back to bed!” So we would sprint back to bed, often clutching some treats and carrying, if not a present at least a good visual image of the present Santa had brought us. It was hard to go back to sleep, but we tried.

We would repeat this stealthy journey downstairs again a couple of hours later and a couple of hours after that we would be allowed to stay downstairs. It was always odd that my parents were not as excited as we were at that early hour. Didn’t they know that Santa had been there? Weren’t they keen to see the treats and presents? Daddy would stoke the fire and put more wood on to burn, and soon the living room would be toasty, and my mother would get up and build a fire in the kitchen stove and prepare a simple breakfast.

The tree lights would be on, and after checking out what Santa had delivered, we opened presents from each other. Most were from Woolworth’s in Alamosa where we had made a special trip to shop together, avoiding each other as we walked the aisles.

c. 1963

There came a time—it was about the time when I began to wonder why Santa liked rich kids more than poor kids—that the whole secret of Santa was revealed, by an older sister while we were out driving the milk cows home. It was a little disappointing, but I had been thinking about the inconsistencies of the Santa story, and now it all became clear. Now I was a keeper of a grown-up secret.

c. 1968

I remember a Christmas when I was about 14 or so. I sneaked downstairs with my younger brothers. They were thrilled with the new toys that Santa had delivered, and I looked at my present, and it was a watch. I needed a watch. It was a perfect present, but where were my toys? Actually, I couldn’t really think of a toy that I wanted. It was a little sad to realize that I was beyond the toy age. I was excited about Christmas, but in a different way. I was aware of the effort my parents had made to make Christmas happen, and I enjoyed watching my younger siblings, the innocent excitement their eyes.

1972

I had been to college, and now I was home for Christmas. It was a happy time, but it was also somewhat sad. My cousin Edward had been killed in a fiery car accident, and it was sad to be enjoying a holiday when we knew that our cousins were still dealing with the anguish of losing their oldest brother. We were all dealing with it.

1974

I was on my church mission in England, and what an amazing place to be during the Christmas holiday season. It was my second Christmas in England, and I was in London, attending the always-interesting Hyde Park Ward. There were several world-class LDS musicians studying in London, and they were part of the ward.

Jim Drake was an LDS organist being groomed by the church for Tabernacle organist. He was skilled enough; he won awards in Paris; he gave daily concerts at Hyde Park Chapel—which has a wonderful pipe organ.

Sister McKie was a beautiful, half Maori from New Zealand in London studying opera. She was married, and her family had stayed in New Zealand. And there was Dale, an LDS concert pianist. My companion and I became good friends with these musicians.

One preparation day we took the musicians brass rubbing in Chigwell, the quiet little village on the far outskirts of northeast London, one of the last tube stops. It was approaching Christmastime, and we were in the church in the afternoon and early evening making rubbings of the large, beautiful ecclesiastic brass there. Jim Drake became a little bored, so he went to see the vicar to borrow the key to the organ. I’m not sure how he talked him into it. (“Hi. I’m a Mormon Tabernacle Organist in training. May I borrow the organ key?”) Regardless, he came back with the key, and so as we rubbed the brass, we were entertained by one of the world’s best organists. The vicar came over later to check on us and sat to listen. Dr. Drake played a few concert pieces. Sister McKie, accompanied by Jim Drake sang arias from The Messiah. There we were—two missionaries from the western states, a wonderful organist, a Maori opera singer, and a Church of England vicar enjoying an impromptu Christmas concert together in an obscure little village church in Essex. It was a magical evening, and one that I will always remember as a favorite Christmas memory.

Later:

Christmas in Los Angeles

Christmas in China

Christmas at home with our Chinese Exchange Student

Reasons You Don't Want Swine Flu

• Your bones and muscles ache so much you convince yourself that you’re growing a tail.
• Isaiah said that when you fast (of necessity in this case), your “health shall spring forth speedily.” He obviously didn’t have swine flu, which was against his religion anyway.
• There comes a time when you believe and then hope you will die. So you watch El Cid, knowing that this epic movie will spur the desire. Unfortunately, Death does not embrace you with his black cloak, which would at least block your view of the TV for several minutes.
• The Relief Society, discovering that you are home alone, calls and asks if you need anything, and all you can think of is Pepsi, which you know might shake some people’s faith enough to burst new bottles.
• You long to be fit enough to return to work and watch condescending training videos.
• Events come along that under normal circumstances would warrant attention, like having your dog die.
• You pray for a miracle with the same fervor you prayed for BYU to beat Oklahoma. 1 out of 2 isn't bad, so unfortunately, regarding the flu, those parts of D&C 122 that you’ve accidently memorized keep coming to mind.
• You call your doctor, and all you can do is oink.