By Bill Corbett
Today is Christmas Eve. When I look back on Christmas Eve as a boy growing up in Grace, Idaho, and then later in Soda Springs, ever more memories come to the fore. Christmas in Grace during the 1940s was not unlike that as it is portrayed in the holiday movie favorite, “The Christmas Story.”
The memories of youth always seem to be the ones that stick. Those memories include sitting around the radio listening to the Christmas shows and Christmas music until it was time for bed.
Then began the long awaited boyhood anticipation of this writer for the arrival of Santa Claus. We had a tradition in our house that we could open one present on Christmas Eve, but the rest would have to wait until the following morning. I was most always awake by 4 a.m., but had received strict orders to remain in bed until 6.
Those were the longest two hours of my young life. The excitement until I could get out of bed to see if Santa had filled my wish list almost did me in. My list was not all that long, since people were more frugal in those days, and also because of the shortage of toys due to the war.
I usually was granted one main item from Santa and a few little “stocking stuffer”-type presents that quite often consisted of things I needed — such as a new shirt, or socks, or underwear.
At 6 on the dot, I would go in and wake up Mom and Dad to come see what Santa had left. My sisters were six and a half years younger than I, so I had this little ritual all to myself until they were old enough to understand what Santa was about. And with them being that much younger, I was able to serve as Santa’s helper for a few more years after I realized Santa had turned his chores for my gifts over to Mom and Dad. Playing Santa for younger siblings had its rewards. It was almost as much fun as having Santa visit me when I was younger.
After the gifts were all distributed and unwrapped, it was time for Mom’s traditional Christmas breakfast of ham and eggs, and flapjacks with lots of Log Cabin Syrup. In those days, many of you will recall, Log Cabin syrup came in a can shaped like a log cabin.
Eventually — due to a tin shortage caused by the war effort — there came the time that the company was no longer able to put syrup in these cans. Mom, in her good wisdom, knew how much these log cabin cans meant to a kid. Log Cabin syrup just wasn’t Log Cabin unless it came from that log cabin can. She saved the used cans and refilled them with Log Cabin syrup which no longer came in “log cabins,” but now in bottles. Everybody was happy.
Then after breakfast it was outside to try out the new sleigh on the snow packed village streets, or the new ice skates on the frozen canal on the north edge of town. Or if that year was the year for the new dump truck, it was outside to haul lots of snow (pretending it was dirt) to build roads all across the backyard.
While childhood memories are nice, I believe it’s appropriate that we take time, on this occasion of celebrating our Savior’s birth, to reflect.
We live in a very harried world, and every year, things seem to get worse. It’s comforting for me to know that there is a higher being that will one day straighten things out for us meager inadequate humans.
I would also like to take this opportunity to thank all you readers who have expressed to me, and to the Journal, your appreciation for my columns these past months.
It’s very gratifying when a writer learns that his readers enjoy his work. To you all, it’s my wish that you have a Merry Christmas and a Happy and Joyous New Year.
This article was written by award-winning columnist Bill Corbett of Pocatello. He writes fiction under the name Will Edwinson, and is the author of two published novels. His latest, the national award winning “Buddy—His Trials and Treasures” can be purchase at amazon.com, barnesandnoble.com or by asking for it at your favorite bookstore. Corbett is also a freelance writer for IDAHO magazine.
