Anticipation, My 1974 Christmas Story

Christmas 1974, a long sleepless night, waiting on Santa.

Anticipation, My Christmas Story


Imagine you are in 1974, age 8, in a world where there was a black and white TV with three channels, no computers, no cell phones, and having no idea about life. You have three siblings that you watch and idolize, wishing you could be like them. You have no commitments, responsibilities, or stress.

I remember this time quite well. School, in my mind, was more of a social event where I saw my friends. My third-grade teacher, Mrs. Kennedy, must have been good because we learned without realizing it. Elementary school, as I look back, taught me structure in addition to book learning. Our principal was a tall, balding older man, who had been a POW in World War I. The Japanese tortured his eyes, and his vision was poor. He demanded fairness and respect while also being disciplinary. He had a large paddle with holes drilled to make the paddle sting. After being paddled, you had to sit in a room, no bigger than a closet, that was directly above the coal fed furnace. The room was a sauna. The door had a glass window, and as you sat there, everyone walking by would see you. This was timeout before there was a timeout. For me, this was something I didn't want to experience, knowing if my parents found out my punishment at home would be worse. My brother didn't seem fazed by this; he was a regular visitor to the sauna. He later became a police officer. We also had blackout drills with curtains drawn, with having to get on the floor with the lights off. This was a drill in case planes were above bombing the school.

I was at the beginning of developing my love for sports. My passion would become basketball. The Los Angeles Lakers were 1972 NBA Champions, Miami Dolphins 1972, 1973 Super Bowl champions, and Pittsburgh Pirates 1971 World Series champions. The team's I am still a fan of today. I was at the age that I was starting to develop my thoughts and imaginations. I don't remember teachers trying to influence our ideas with their feelings. They allowed me to write left-handed without changing how I wrote naturally. I do remember having to learn to use right-handed scissors because the class didn't have left-handed scissors. Today I still use right-handed scissors.

Holidays were always a fun time as a child for me. It all started with Halloween, lots of candy and costumes to wear. The costumes were always handmade. One year I was sick with the flu, and my siblings took a pillowcase out and filled it with candy. Thanksgiving was more about the parades, good food, football, and being out of school.

Christmas was the biggest of all holidays. The schools were closed for three weeks. Before school let out, we would have class parties, a Christmas play, and Santa visiting each child. I didn't realize until fifth grade that Santa was my dad. My teacher slipped up and told me my dad was coming that day, and it was Santa’s day to visit the school. I guess I was innocent and naive. I pretended, I knew when I realized what my teacher said.

In 1974, I recalled getting into the decorative part of Christmas. Our tree was always in our basement den. We would decorate the tree as a family with Christmas music playing. Johnny Mathis, Bing Crosby, played on our record player. All of our ornaments we're either handmade or had meaning. I liked the crochet snowflakes that my grandmother made. Usually, you picked up an ornament and commented about it. We had silver strands of icicles that ended up everywhere. We would strand popcorn to put around the tree. Being the youngest, I never got to put the topper on the tree. We had a fake cardboard fireplace where we hung our stockings. All made for wonderful memories. We walked downtown to see the holiday decorations and the parade. Without me realizing the holiday traditions, I was building up my excitement for Christmas. I didn't know the true meaning of Christmas; I just knew Santa was coming, and I would get gifts. Christmas Eve, my mind would wonder what Santa might bring. Hoping I would get a new basketball. The whole story of Santa always fascinated me. The reindeer flying through the sky. Santa covering the entire world in one night and his list of naughty and nice.

Christmas Eve, we had a German meal for dinner. Our family tradition was schnitzel, potatoes, sauerkraut, bread, and a dessert. Which we continue today. On the radio, they would broadcast the whereabouts of Santa. This was exciting, knowing Santa was in Roanoke. We would be allowed to open one present before going to bed. Now my level of excitement was out the roof. How would I be able to sleep with all this adrenaline? I was told if I didn't go to bed that Santa wouldn't come to our house. That's all I needed to hear; I wasn't going to chance Santa not coming.

My brother and I shared a room. He would go to sleep pretty fast because I don't recall any conversations lying in bed. We were allowed to listen to the radio as we lay to sleep. At 10 pm, the CBS Radio Mystery Theater broadcast for an hour. After the hour, it was pure silence for the rest of the night. It was the longest night of my life. I would lay there wondering if Santa had arrived, but too afraid to get up and go downstairs to check. I looked out the window, from my bed, looking for any signs of reindeer or Santa. Time seemed to stand still as I watched the clock. My mind wandered all night. I could hear the wind blowing the tree limbs. Sometimes I saw shadows that scared me. If I thought Santa was outside, I ducked my head under the covers so Santa wouldn't see me awake. The house, built-in 1908 and was as silent as a mouse. The only noise I could hear was the ticking of clocks throughout the house. This went on all night till 4 am. At that time, I would go to my parent's room to see if it was time to see if Santa had arrived. The answer was always the same, ”no and go back to bed.” My parents didn't realize that I was prepared to play this game every hour until they got up. Usually, it was around 7 am that everyone got up to go downstairs to see what presents they had. Santa never let me down, I often got a basketball or football, clothes, and whatever toy I asked for. My stocking was always stuff full of apples, oranges, and nuts.

After everyone finished opening their presents, my mom announced that she heard a noise in the night and grabbed the 8 mm camera to see what had made such a clatter. Mama sat at the top of the staircase out of sight and saw Santa delivering his gifts. Santa acted as if he didn't know anyone was on the steps. He ate his cookies and drank his milk and turned to the camera shaking his bells and waved goodbye while saying,” Merry Christmas, Ho, Ho, Ho!”

We had all of this on film, it was amazing. I couldn't wait to tell my friends about seeing Santa. I remember every detail down to his jolly ole laugh. Looking back, I think the video of Santa was probably the reason it took me till 5th grade to know that Santa at school was my dad. Thanks, Mrs. McCowan, for spoiling it for me! As for Santa that night, I then realized it was my dad!

In 1974, I was eight years old and was an impressionable time for me. Luckily I had good parents who had had three previous tries to get Christmas right. So when you think of Christmas, remember the true meaning, as well as your most significant memories of your Christmas past. I hope my story brings some joy to your life. Thanks Mom and Dad for wonderful memories!

James