One Boomer’s Christmas

By

Theresa Parker Pierce

Christmas in the 1950s-1960s was magical for me in downtown Kinston, North Carolina. They called it, “The Magic Mile.” This was before malls and shopping centers. Downtown included everything! Each store went all out to decorate more elaborately than their neighbor. The banner above the street resembled the ones in “It’s a Wonderful Life.” The bakery smelled like fresh baked bread with cinnamon. The stores were bustling with shoppers. The Christmas parade rivaled the Macy’s parade in my young mind and I witnessed it live, not on our television with black and white pictures. The memories of my childhood, as I remember my life, might as well have been in technicolor like NBC’s colorful peacock.

I vividly remember my Daddy volunteering, via the Moose Lodge, sitting in a red booth ringing a bell to collect money for the Salvation Army. I found him after my brother and I had our pictures taken with Santa. We crowded inside with him to steal some warmth and peer through the glass. The Magic Mile was not New York City but after walking around the Sears and Roebuck store, it might as well have been to my young heart.

Gift wrap included gigantic rolls of wrapping paper on metal cylinders, ribbon and fancy tags. The paper made a sharp ripping sound that excited us as children because who doesn’t like going to the gift wrap section of the store. The ladies behind the counter sported A-lined dresses, pointy high-heeled shoes and beehive hairdos. You walked in with your purchases in bags, and left with crisply wrapped gifts, corners creased and better than average stick-on bows. I wanted to grow up to wrap gifts with their efficiency. Shirts were wrapped in tissue paper so when you opened them later, the unveiling was regal. Leaving the store meant the gifts only had to be popped under the tree at home. You could identify a store wrapped gift immediately. Some even had a fancy sticker embossed with the store’s name strategically on the top corner for extra fancy pizazz. When you received a gift like that, you became the envy of your cousins, followed by an “ooh or ahh.”

Then there were the Christmas trees of a Boomer’s childhood. Yes, there were tree lots but artificial trees were inching into vogue. Ornaments were fragile. Blown glass baubles with metal clasps were gently stored in the attic from year to year in sectioned boxes. The bottom of the storage boxes, littered with broken and shiny fragments, tinkled as you lifted it from the attic.

Every green tree sported tinsel. We had the thrill of throwing it and watching it gracefully adorn the branches. Often parents redid the tinsel after we went to bed, as if we could not tell. Artificial snow in a spray can burst out a blast of winter wonderland. Spray snow on the branches gave the illusion of a light snow gracing the evergreen. Sometimes my mom let me spray the snow on the window in a pattern that looked like a slope in geometry class. I think back now to the limited snows we had in eastern North Carolina. Fake snow gave us the feel that we were having a real white Christmas.

We bought ornaments downtown. Our dollar store was called the Five and Dime. The ornaments were cheap plastic in the shapes of Santa, elves and carolers. Speaking of carolers, there were plastic yard ornaments of those as well as nativity scenes and Santa with his sleigh. The gifts I gave came from the Five and Dime store as well, black plastic combs for the men, handkerchiefs for the ladies. The inexpensive store did not offer gift wrapping.

My industrious mother made a full Christmas scene from particle boards. I watched her use a skill saw to cut out life-sized figures of Santa, his sleigh and several reindeer. The leader featured a red shiny nose. She hand-painted the characters and shellacked the entire display. Silver garland draped from one figure to another completed the look. When I think back to how I played in the yard while my mother single handedly made such an elaborate display, it makes me question what were the neighbors thinking? I’m sure they were impressed. I would be!

Stockings were made of red mesh with cheap toys and hard candy. They held a certain mystique when we saw them in the stores. We held them up to examine the contents hoping we got the one with real stuff we hoped for. I was aware that other kids had fancy needlepoint stockings in their homes, but I never saw what they were filled with on Christmas morning.

Then my mom got really creative in the 1960s. Colorful trees were in. We had a silver tree with tufted ends. The branches came in plastic sleeves. Putting up these trees resembled a puzzle project. Once the tree was up, a rotating wheel with a bulb behind it turned slowly. The real treat of turning off the lights and watching the tree change colors drew us closer to watch and dance around. Not to be outdone, our neighbor cut down a dead tree, spray painted it pink and showcased it with a pink floodlight and what else, satin bulbs, also pink.  

My Daddy always waited until the last minute to shop for our Momma and he always took us kids with him on his mission. Looking back on it now, it was probably to give her a break. Otherwise, we served no purpose, we knew exactly what he would buy. It was the same every single year, White Shoulders perfume and satin pajamas. They were gift wrapped in the elaborate fashion. He added our names to the tag. One thing I remember is that my momma always acted surprised by our gift, every single year. I loved that about her. She almost never wore the pajamas. She placed them in her hope chest. She said, “In case I have to go to the hospital.”

My all-time favorite Christmas memories are the years that my mom draped twinkly lights on a piece of driftwood, made Bourbon balls (you read that right, I might have eaten one or two) and used her old nylons as stockings. Those stockings stretched six feet long when she filled them. Citrus fruits, candy canes and nuts went on forever. It was mom’s throwback to her childhood when “fruits and nuts and candies” were the norm. Ribbon candy rotted our teeth. It stuck to the tin it came in, but we were glad to get it. It was almost as exciting as the box of chocolate covered cherries, that we got along with socks.

Yes, all those things you did mattered, Momma, I miss you.  Merry Christmas.