COMMENTARY: Still touched by memories of Christmas 50 years ago

Why do Christmas memories from 50 years ago still hold so much power over me? I think I know now.

Christmas was a huge event for our family. At St. Germaine School, we would sell items to raise money for the needy, create decorations, practice for Christmas plays and concerts (we would sing “Silent Night” and “Hark the Herald Angels Sing”) and attend a million Advent ceremonies.

The preparation and ceremony filled us with a sense that something big was under way, and it was.

We were just as busy at home. My father and I visited several Christmas-tree lots in search of the perfect tree. We would carefully assess several before making our pick. Once we men had the platform set up and the lights strung, my sisters were called to the living room and everyone in our family decorated the tree.

The sun soon would go down and the light of our Christmas tree bulbs reflecting off the tinsel would transform our living room into a brilliant glow of colors dancing on the walls and ceiling.

Christmas specials on TV were also family events. We would pack into the living room and plug in the tree. We would turn off all the lamps so that the Christmas lights would shine extra bright. We would wait with great anticipation for “The Grinch that Stole Christmas,” “Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer,” “A Charlie Brown Christmas” and a dozen others.

Even the Christmas commercials — I remember the clay animation of Santa gliding through the snow on a Norelco electric razor — now fill me with nostalgia.

Finally, Christmas Eve would arrive. We would light the candles in the luminaria that lined our street — all our neighbors had luminaria, and our streets glowed for several blocks. Our next-door neighbors, the Kriegers, would visit for a few hours, filling our house with festivity.

Then off we went to bed.

My father would stack the old stereo console with every Christmas record we owned — “Holiday Sing-Along with Mitch Miller,” “Christmas With the Chipmunks,” “Snoopy vs. the Red Baron” and Bing Crosby singing “White Christmas.” As the scratchy old records played — as my mother and father assembled and wrapped gifts in the living room below — I was so filled with excitement I could never sleep.

I would finally nod off only to wake at 5 a.m. I would jump out of my bed and run around, waking my five sisters. We would rush down to the living room and open our gifts and laugh as our dog Jingles dived into the piles of wrapping paper.

My father would make a breakfast feast and we would sit around laughing and talking, as we whiled the morning away. Then we would arrive at church to find that the stragglers, who went to mass only on Christmas and Easter, had taken our seats, forcing us to stand in the aisle.

This simple Christmas experience may sound uneventful, but it was a huge event to me and millions of other American kids who were blessed to have a similar experience. My fondness for this time was marked by a total sense of security — a total sense of being loved by a mother and father who were doing their best to provide for their children.

That’s why Christmas memories from 50 years ago hold such power over me still.

Email Tom Purcell at Tom@TomPurcell.com.