Memories Of Christmas Past
With Christmas being just a few days away, I thought it would be very interesting and perhaps a little amusing to enter into my time mobile and embark upon a journey down memory lane that will take me and my readers back to Christmas past.  
Since I do not know your adventures and experiences about Christmas past, I will share with you a few of mine.  
Although we all are unique and have different memories and stories we either treasure or regret about Christmases past, there are nevertheless some memories and moments about them that we all have in common.  Things like family gatherings, awakening on Christmas morning to find your toys, Christmas dinner, and quite a few other traditions and experiences are commonalities that most of us hold dear in our memories.

‘Twas The Night
Before Christmas
One of the unforgettable experiences of Christmas past was the suspense and excitement of Christmas Eve night.  
When I was at the age of innocence and ignorance in regard to the myth and story of Santa Claus, I would go to bed real early with great anticipation of what would be awaiting me in the morning.  
Possessing a vivid imagination, it did not take much to convince me that I had better not open my eyes and peep on this night of nights.  
My older brothers had done a good job of convincing and scaring me about the grave consequences of peeping.  
They said that Old Saint Nick would throw a little black pepper in the eyes of all the children who peeped at him when he showed up to bring the toys.  So I slept with my eyes shut real tight.  
On one particular Christmas Eve night, I was certain I was awakened by the sound of Santa at work.  I dared not get up and investigate the sound of the jolly old elf, who was busy doing what he did best.  However, when dawn finally arrived on this early Christmas morning, I woke up after a long night of anticipation to discover the two infallible proofs that Santa’s sled had not bypassed our house.  
The sight of toys, candy, fruit, and nuts were set in every child’s space in the family who was young enough to believe in Santa Claus.  
Also, an established tradition and practice had been fulfilled concerning Santa’s visit at our house, for he had cut and eaten a piece of chocolate cake.

The Year I Got
The Gift Of My Dreams
My greatest and most joyous awakening on Christmas morning occurred when I was in the fifth grade and had just turned eleven years old two weeks before Christmas (my birthday is on December 11).   
I had asked my father, who always had the final say, for something I have always wanted.  I had even convinced my two younger brothers to ask for the same gift.  
My parents would usually arrange for Santa to bring us similar toys or gifts.  I suppose having so many children (sons) they wanted to keep things simple.  The gift that we asked our parents for was somewhat expensive, and none of our older brothers had been fortunate enough to ever obtain a gift of this caliber.  Perhaps it was due to the fact that my parents could not afford to purchase them during their tenure of innocence and ignorance of believing in Santa Claus.  
When I finally awakened after a deep sleep and night of suspense and anticipation, there it was before my jubilant and ecstatic eyes in red, white, and blue colors.  The gift that I had always wanted and had had many dreams about.  My desire to own my own bicycle had become a reality, and I would no longer have to ask my best friend’s father to let me ride one of the used ones that he had repaired for the children of the neighborhood to ride.  I had hoped and waited, and now the waiting was over.  My dream gift had arrived.

The Smell of Christmas
After the smell of my mama’s perfume, there was another pleasant smell that only came once a year that rates as one of the most memorable smells of my childhood.  
This smell had many different aromas, fragrances, and scents blended together as an integral part of the most joyous season of the year.  What else could I be referring to but the smell of Christmas?  
The smell of Christmas when I was growing up in New Town would start with the aroma of cakes being baked in our gas oven.  My mama would start at least two weeks before Christmas Day with her baking.  She would bake several cakes – pound cakes, nut cakes, coconut cakes, chocolate cakes, and many others.  
One of the things I always loved about Christmas baking was the opportunity to lick the batter from the bowl or pan.  Oh, how delicious it was, and it was a foretaste of the finished product!  
Then, there was the scent of evergreen from the pine tree that permeated our entire four-room house.  By the time Christmas morning had arrived, the smell of Christmas intensified by the addition of tangerines, oranges, apples, peppermint sticks, and other candies and nuts.  And, of course, there was the most invigorating smell of all – the smell of new toys and clothes that Santa had left!  By this time the smell of turkey cooking in the oven had given its aroma to the tantalizing atmosphere that filled the house, arousing our palates to the extreme degree.  
The smell of Christmas, with its bouquet of aromas, fragrances, and scents, was the undisputed greatest sensation of every year!

The Year I Learned The True Meaning Of Christmas
In my column today, I have shared memories of Christmases past.  Now, I want to briefly share with you memories of my best Christmas.  I have come to believe that now that I know what celebrating and observing Christmas is all about, the best Christmas in my upbringing happened one year when I was too old to get toys anymore.  I had come of age and had known the truth about Santa Claus for a few years.  
My mother told us about this poor woman in our church who had six children and was doing all she could to keep food on the table, a roof over their heads, clothes on their backs, and all of the other basic essentials without any help from their father.  Mama was determined to help this poor, destitute family, even if it meant giving her last.  
Somehow, the word got out around our house about my mother’s compassionate and charitable intentions.  A few of my brothers and I, who had passed the age of receiving toys from Santa, were moved by compassion to assist our mother in this mission of mercy.  
After our eyes came open to the fallacy of Santa Claus, my daddy would give us only about 25 or 30 dollars for Christmas to do whatever we wanted to do with it.  
So I gave most of my Christmas money to my mother to help the poor woman to be able to buy food and some very inexpensive toys for Christmas.  Truly this was the greatest and most important Christmas in my life up to that point.
I had learned, through helping others who were destitute, that Christmas was not about me.  It was not about receiving gifts or toys.  It was not about Santa Claus, Frosty the Snowman, or Rudolph, the Red-nosed Reindeer.  It was not about myths or fantasies.  Christmas was about giving and believing.  It was about a Father who gave His Only Begotten Son to become the penalty for the sin of the entire world.  Christmas was, is, and shall forever be about Jesus Christ.  
Although it would take a few more years for my eyes to come completely open about the true meaning of Christmas, that year, when I was about a man in age, was truly a pivotal year that would launch me forth into my destiny.