By Heather Stergos

As a child nothing spoke of the magic of Christmas like my grandparents house. I can still clearly remember the thrill of pulling up the snowy drive, for it seems like it was always snowy when we arrived at the big house for the holidays. My grandparents lived in a large three-story house built in 1908. At any point during the year it was a magical place for a child, filled with all sorts of treasures, but it seemed especially so during the Christmas season.

By Helen V Lundt

(Myra and Andrew Riley in front of the Christmas tree at the Seven Stars residence)

By Polly Mazariegos

All of my childhood Christmas memories are full of fun and food, except on the occasion when I had such a bad case of bronchitis and had such a sore throat I did not want to come down for Christmas morning.

Bernita & Marion Hoffman

By Marion C. Hoffman

The following story is the property of the author and may not be reproduced without the authors consent.

By Harvey Wike

When we moved onto our farm outside Fredericksburg, PA, the road past our house was an old dirt road. I guess at times we could be called Hucksters, as we would load up our produce from the farm, take it to the town of Lebanon, PA, in a Dodge panel truck and sell the produce door to door.

By Judy Goldman

I grew up on a farm in the heart of central New Jersey. We lived in a quiet, rural area. It wasn’t that bad, though. Being on a farm had its advantages, although it wasn’t really much to speak of, as farms go. My grandparents aging seemed to be inversely proportional to the number of animals we had. During this particular December, the chickens and goats were long gone and all that remained were three dogs and an ever-increasing number of stray cats that somehow managed to make their way to the farmhouse.

(Left to right: My mother Ida Miller, Aunt Hazel, Aunt Tick and Aunt Regime

Back row left to right: Uncle Charlie, Uncle Harry Maze, Jack Glob, and My father I. R. Miller)

by Lynn Ruth Miller

copyright Lynn Ruth Miller 1999

First Serial Rights

A Bike for Christmas

By Vickie Perkins nee Alumbaugh

The Christmas I remembers most is when I got my first two wheel bicycle. It was green. It was in the 1950s and I was around 6 or 7 years old.

By  Anonymous

It was the night before Christmas, I hurried to go to the supermarket to buy the remaining gifts I didn't manage to buy earlier.
 

When I saw all the people there, I started to complain to myself: 'It is going to take forever here and I still have so many other places to go...Christmas really is getting more and more annoying every year. How I wish I could just lie down, go to sleep and only wake up after it...'
 

by Mary Erickson

Author of My Life Undercover,

www.BehlerPublications.com

By Sandy Williams Driver

December 23, 1834

By: Ex POW Robert M. Abrahamson

My brothers and I were all drafted into the United States Army. The oldest, Frederick, was in the first draft lottery drawn personally by President Franklin D. Roosevelt in 1940. The next year, Fred went on the first troop ship to England, the Queen Mary. Georges draft number followed and he was called to service in 1944. He left a wife and a 3-year old baby at home.

Contributed By Jennifer Thompson

When someone shares memories of their family and of times past, you can almost always count on stories from holidays, and often about Christmas. Of course, this is one of the happiest and most carefree time to gather; a feeling of peace and of cheer fill the air and our hearts.
 

Remembering Christmas At Mamaw’s

By Sandy Siple

When I started having grand-children ten years ago, I wanted to give them something special that no one could ever take away. The cherished memories of Christmas loved and shared at Grandmas.

By Jennifer Thompson

500 years ago - December 1503

December 14- Birthday of Nostradamus, [Michel de Nostre-Dam-us], French astrologist/prophet.

300 years ago - December 1703

December 30- Tokyo hit by Earthquake; about 37,000 die.

150 years ago - December 1853

Copyright Feb 1993, By: Sharon Romine

The lamp at the end of the couch casts a soft glow of light over Grandma's hands as she crochets. "Tiny," she says, "your loops must be very tiny." Looking at her neat chain of loops, then at mine, I felt like giving up, but once again, I tore them apart and started over.

I crocheted foot after foot of those tiny loops before she would teach me any other stitch. "You must have a good foundation before you start or you're just wasting your time," she'd say.

Grandma's Kitchen

In this issue I am paying tribute to my Grandmother. Lisa Redd has also written about her Grandmother. Our grandchildren can read these years from now. It will tell them something about the special women they never knew.

Merry Christmas Rita Redd

Loma Chadwick Redd

1906 to 1988

Smyrna, GA

Submitted by Jennifer Thompson

Good Ole Days Column Editor

Loren and Ruth Ahlrichs of Overland Park, Kansas, were very kind in sharing with me some of their Christmas memories and traditions passed down from their families.

By Betsy Gilbert

They say that lightning never strikes twice in the same place, but Charles Chambers must have missed class the day that life lesson was being taught. As a young Navy man during World War II, Chambers ship was the first to be hit and sunk in the attack on Pearl Harbor. Less than a year later, his ship was hit and sunk in a pre-dawn sneak attack by the Japanese. Chambers came out of both incidents without a scratch.

Various Contributors Favorite Christmas Memories

Bag of Toys

My favorite memory of Christmas is when my children were small, someone left a bag of toys at my mothers house for them. Mother would not say who did it. To this day, I still don’t know but I have a good idea. “Thanks Rosie”

Hazel Hollen nee Garriott

Fruit and Candy

By Melinda Long

by Helen V. Lundt

There was a time in my life, a happy time, when I was young and lived with my grandmother.

She was a tall sturdy woman; she wore a cotton dress with a clean apron every day. I remember the orange cotton stockings and black tie-up shoes, with thick heels. Her hair was gray and pulled back in a bun, where the rest of it showed some waves throughout, as though rebelling.

Denny

from Indiana

When I was growing up, things were different then they are now. During the ‘30s and even into the 40’s times were tough for lots of people, until the war was over.

Copyright November 11, 2001 by Marion C. Hoffman

This story began in early December 1944, during WWII in England while flying with the 8th Air Force, 91st Bomb Group, 323rd Squadron and ended on June 14, 1945, when I arrived home in Indiana.

With the Christmas holiday season nearing I wanted to send a photo home to my family as a Christmas present, convincing them of my well-being while flying combat missions. It was at a photo shop in Royston, England where this story began.

From Doc Ellis

I served, consecutively (and erratically), in the USArmy Air Force (1942-45), the USArmy (1946-50) and the USAir Force (1950-65) and retired then as a master sergeant...but in ALL that time, I never saw a day of combat and that includes my three years during World War II, two of those years overseas in the ETO.

12 troopers behind each guy IN combat at "the front”

From Milton Long

General Patton 

We have purchased a replica of General Patton's pistol as a gift for a Patton admirer.

Question---Did General Patton ever shoot anyone?  If anyone knows, please respond asap.  

Tom Hartline

Reply from Nomad2261

Submitted by Connie Sychowski

You’re introduced to a stranger who shares your last name. Don’t you always wonder, Could we be related?

Thanks to breakthrough science in the rapidly growing world of genetics, its now possible to find out. Trace Your Roots with DNA is the first comprehensive guide to this amazing new field. With genetic testing (don’t worry no needles, medical privacy is assured, and you don’t have to dig up your dead relatives), you’ll be able to knock down genealogical brick walls. The fascinating results can tell you:

Giving Thanks

Connie Sychowski

Editor Genealogy Corner

Isn’t that what this season is all about? Yes, some would say, its all about the FOOD. I am truly sorry for anyone who feels this way as they are really missing out on the many blessings of life.

Following is an excerpt from the book titled, The Silly Buggers

by Bill Hawksford.

Andy Riley, Jr helping mother Myra Riley with Turkey dinner in the kitchen. Notice snowing outside.

Author Polly Mazariegos