My Mom was the youngest child in her family, and it's not unusual that she loved Christmas and believed in the magic of Santa Claus.
I was her first child, so it is not unusual that I was a Momma's boy and I bought into her love of the miracle of Christmas Day.
First Christmas memory
My first memory of Christmas Day was when my brother Billy and my sister Donna Marie, who both suffered with muscular dystrophy, and I got to sleep in Mom and Day's big bed on Christmas Eve.
They slept in the living room so Mom could nurse us if we needed it during the night.
We did need it because with three sick kids in one bed, we got too hot and we were uncomfortable.
Billy and Donna Marie convinced me to go out and get Mom to help us.
Mom heard me walking across the floor and she was up and out of bed by the time I got to her.
She put her palm on my forehead, frowned and asked me if Billy and Donna Marie were hot too. I said yes they are.
Mom went into the kitchen and came back with a cold face cloth and a bowl with three popsicles in it. She cooled us off with the face cloth as we sat up in bed and then we enjoyed our popsicles and forgot about the discomfort of having measles for a few minutes.
Then Mom kissed us all and felt our foreheads. She smiled with approval and told us to go to sleep so Santa would come and leave us some presents.
We all fell asleep and Santa dropped off some gifts for us.
We woke up while Mom was making our favourite Christmas breakfast. We were really excited when we passed the Christmas tree and saw all of the presents and the whole family chattered and giggled while we ate breakfast.
After breakfast, Mom asked Dad to go to the corner store to buy some more popsicles.
We three kids smiled and cheered knowing we were going to get more coolant if we got too hot.
It was a great Christmas, and one I will never forget because everyone was so happy and we cheered when everyone opened a present and we forgot about our battle with measles for a while.
Best gift for a kid
This was the year I got a bicycle.
I had written my first letter to Santa asking for a two-wheeler because I knew Mom and Dad couldn't afford to buy me one because Dad was working overtime and Mom was "picking up shifts" at her girlfriend's restaurant to help make "ends meet."
All the other kids my age on our block had two-wheelers, and they teased me for only having a tricycle to ride on.
When I had a close look at my bicycle, it looked like it was too big for me, but it was also bigger than the other kids' bikes on the block.
After all of the presents were opened, Mom, Dad and I went outside to see if my bike was too big for me because when I sat on the bike seat, I couldn't reach the pedals with my feet.
I was devastated until Dad said we could make blocks for the pedals so I could reach them and we would only have to take them off when I got taller.
Unfortunately, I couldn't test the bike out that morning until the blocks were built and connected to the pedals.
However, Mom asked me if she could go on a test ride just to make sure the bicycle worked.
I looked at Dad and he nodded, which meant Mom could take my bike for its first test ride.
Mom told Dad and me to take the bike down the stairs and put it on the road in front of our house.
Mom was wearing a bright red nightgown and slippers. She went into the house to change. I thought she would change out of the night gown but she only replaced her slippers with boots.
Mom had some trouble getting on the bicycle because she had a girl's bicycle when she was a youngster and it had a dipped bar that let girls get on their bikes easily.
However, Dad and I lowered the bike on one side so Mom could get on the seat easily. There was a bit of moving the bike in a position so Mom could grip the handles and the pedals before she was ready to take her ride.
Then she peddled hard and headed down the hill. She was going pretty fast when she screamed to Dad the brakes weren't working.
Dad told me to go into the house to make sure Billy and Donna Marie were okay.
Then he yelled to Mom the brakes were not on the pedals and they were on the handlebars.
She screamed back to him that she couldn't stop and Dad started running fast after her.
Mom's red nightgown was flowing up behind her, and she stopped pedalling but kept screaming at Dad and concentrated on steering the bike.
By that time, all of the neighbours were out of their homes and watching the Christmas Morning Show.
Dad finally caught up to her in a flat area at the bottom of the hill. He was pushing the bike up the hill while Mom hugged him and they were both laughing while all of the neighbours were clapping and cheering Mom for her great steering abilities and for Dad catching up to Mom and saving her from injury.
It became an original Christmas Tale that was told for many years.
