Readers share their favorite Christmas memories

Father finds out the hard way that frugality isn’t always the best idea

By Mary Jean Wethington (Special to The Criterion)

Since my very Catholic parents now share Christmas in heaven, it is good to remember them with love, some tears and a little humor. Thus, I share this story with memory’s mirth.

It was 1957, the year that Daddy really blew it at Christmas!

My strong, viral father was a very dedicated mail carrier, but the holiday mail rush literally made him a “Scrooge” at Christmas.

Having lived through the Great Depression, Daddy was somewhat “tight.” He called it “frugal.”

My beloved Momma was his total opposite, and always went to great pains each year to decoratively wrap each of the 20-some presents displayed under our Christmas tree.

This particular year, Daddy messed up big time by suggesting to Momma that since their little girl was all of 11, why not save money and not wrap my presents since I probably wouldn’t even notice.

Why Momma went along with his “suggestion” I will never know.

On Christmas, we attended Mass then came home, and I had to go into a bedroom until my parents were ready to present my gifts all under the tree.

Finally, when I was told to come out of the bedroom, I flew around the corner expecting to see packages decorated in colorful paper and ribbons.

I stopped dead in my tracks, breathless at the sight! There were wonderful presents—dolls, a guitar, a bike, a desk and dresses—but not one of them was wrapped.

I just stood there for a moment then started crying.

Very slowly, my Momma stood up and gave “that harrowing look” to Daddy, which cut his 6-foot frame down to about 2 inches! No words were spoken aloud between them in my presence.

Yes, I was spoiled. And yes, I always got the lecture about all those poor children who had no Christmas presents.

But from that moment forward every present ever exchanged in our family—for Christmas, Easter, birthdays, Mother’s Day and maybe Father’s Day—was wrapped by Momma to the extreme!

Gold, frankincense and myrh were nothing compared to Momma’s fancy gift wrapping.

Many years later, we all laughed at this memory, but Daddy kind of gulped with each laugh.

Now, each Christmas gift that I wrap reminds me of this funny memory.

The love that I have experienced in our holy family carries forth the true meaning of gifting—simple, real, love.
 

(Mary Jean Wethington is a member of St. Teresa Benedicta of the Cross Parish in Bright.) †