Memories make the season merry

REMEMBERING CHRISTMASES PAST

Linda Johnson, Mutual 15

In December 2019, as I entered Clubhouse 4 to decorate for our holiday luncheon, I was awestruck by the decorations on the stage of the clubhouse.

It had been transformed into a winter wonderland. I asked, “who did this?” And the answer was “Tommy Williams.”

I have never forgotten the magical feeling that I felt when I entered the clubhouse.

I didn’t know Tommy well, but I could really appreciate his energy, creativity and his happy spirit. Maybe some of us who experienced Tommy’s talent for transforming something ordinary into something magical can take a moment during our busy holiday season and remember him. What a joy it was to have him as part of our community. Tommy is gone now—but not forgotten. Thanks, Tommy. Rest in Peace. ( Editor’s Note: Thomas “Tommy” Lee Williams, 60, a dynamic entertainer was well known throughout LW for mesmerizing Leisure World residents on the Amphitheater stage and at dances, picnics and Toys for Tots Christmas shows. He died unexpectedly on Jan. 19, 2021, in his Mutual 2 home. He will be best remembered onstage, wearing a sparkly costume with a microphone in his hand and a signet ring on his finger.

Bonnie Combes, Mutual 10

For many reasons, 1974 was my favorite Christmas. My first son, Carl, was born on Dec. 24, 1969, and died on Jan. 6, 1970, from Hirschsprung’s disease, a birth defect that meant he had no nerves in his colon. We waited nearly a year after his death and applied for a “hard to place” child through adoption.

In 1971, our son, James was available for adoption. Since he is biracial (Black and Caucasian), he was considered hard to place according to the adoption rules of the time. He was a godsend. He is currently a 51-year-old social worker for the County of Los Angeles.

In 1972, we discovered that I was infertile and that I would not be able to conceive again. So, we turned to fertility drugs (which had become recently available) and artificial insemination. After two difficult years, our son Robert was born, which takes me to my favorite Christmas.

Robert was born Dec. 17, 1974, although he was due on the same day as my first son, Carl.

When we brought him home that Christmas, our family was complete for the first time. We even had a dog, Rusty. What a joyous celebration we had! Christmas was returned to us as a day to celebrate, not as a time to mourn. The two boys were a joy and still are, as are our three grandchildren.

Saundra Luther Stark, Mutual 1 When thinking back, every Christmas has been special. I had just turned 9 in December 1951. My mother and I were living with my grandparents in Flatwoods, Kentucky. All of my mothers’ siblings were there, too, plus cousins younger than I—Billy, Beata, Rheada, Cos Jr. and Connie. The great surprise was Uncle Charles arriving after his tour of duty with the U.S. Air Force in Germany.

I remember him entering the living room in uniform and getting a huge hug from his brother Uncle Ron (Billy Ray’s dad). We all screamed. But to our delight, there were gifts for each and every one in his duffel bag. I received a green silk scarf with a map of the country of Germany, and I tried to remember all the cities as he had been stationed in Wiesbaden!

We kids ran upstairs to one of the large closets in the bedrooms. Where the roof sloped, the closets did too. The best hiding spot for us kids was behind the hanging clothes. That’s where we looked over our gifts.

Uncle Jr., who was in the Navy, and Aunt Barbara had driven from Long Beach with 4-month-old baby JoDell. Twenty people staying in the two-story farm-style house was so much fun for us kids.

When dinner time came my Papaw, who was a preacher, prayed the perfect prayer, remembering each and every one of us. I remember seeing tears in my mother’s and aunts’ eyes. I will never forget that moment and memory of family!

Unfortunately, baby JoDell passed away from crib death on Jan. 5, the morning after the family returned to Long Beach from Kentucky. That brought two carloads of Kentuckians west for her funeral.

By March, Mother and I moved to California with Uncle Cliff, Aunt Sue and Beata. All have passed away now, except for Beata, Cos Jr. and I, and those precious family memories.

Fred and Linda Fenton, Mutual 12 “Holiday joy” brings to mind a Christmas Eve many years ago that changed my life. I was a college student working at a television store, carrying heavy, boxed TV sets from a third-floor storage room to cars waiting in the alley behind the store. Drivers of expensive cars had me put their TV in the trunk and managed a hurried “Merry Christmas” before driving off.

Near closing time, I carried the smallest boxed TV we sold out to a woman in a battered, old car. She had three children in the car with her. “I bought this for my mom,” she said. “Mom is in a nursing home.” She offered me a crumpled dollar bill and thanked me warmly. It was my only tip of the evening.

That experience changed my life. It stayed with me through a career of social activism. I am reminded of the Bible story of Jesus watching people bringing their gifts to the temple. One is a poor widow who gives her last coins. Jesus says she has given more than all the rest because she has given all she has. (Mark 12:41-44).

Eileen Yordy, Mutual 10

I think the year was 1963, and I was 13 years old. I was the oldest of seven kids and even though we did not have much money for Christmas, my mom would shop at all the bargain stores to buy as much as she could at a discount.

One day my mom piled about four of us kids into our old 1948 Kaiser and took us to the sale they were having at Zody’s. After a stressful and weary afternoon of shopping, she stuffed four kids and several Zody’s bags into the backseat of the car, and we headed home. Suddenly, right after my mother had made a Uturn, we see the lights of a Buena Park policeman signaling us to pull over. We could not figure out why he was pulling us over. My mom always drove carefully, especially because she usually had a pile of kids in the car.

The cop came up to the car and said, “Ma’am, did you know that you just made an illegal U-turn?”

My mom told him that she did not realize that a U-turn was illegal because it had always been legal before.

“Well ma’am, the law recently changed, and now U-turns are illegal here.”

My mom did not notice the new sign because she had Christmas bargain shopping on her mind. She started to cry because she knew that she could not afford a traffic ticket after all the Christmas presents she still had to buy. The cop looked around the inside of the car and saw four scared kids and lots of Zody’s bags.

He continued to write the ticket while my mom continued to weep. He handed her the ticket and told her he was sorry. She said, “thank you” even though I am sure she really didn’t mean it.

As he walked back to his car, my mom slowly opened the ticket to see how much she was going to have to pay. But, instead of a large amount of money, the ticket said “I hope you and your family have a wonderful Christmas!”

Grace Kim, Mutual 14

My holiday joy: I was in elementary school in Shanghai, China. At about 5 a.m., Korean church choir members came and sang Christmas carols. We all went out and welcomed them, and gave them bags of tangerines.

Dave Crandall, Mutual 10

In the months and years prior to Christmas 1964, I would tag along with my two older brothers and their friends riding our bikes on the neighborhood streets. Puny me with my rickety little bike, another hand-medown from our cousins, would try to keep up with the big boys.

I thought I needed training wheels until my older brother noticed I was riding fine with both training wheels well above the ground, so we removed them from that shrimpy beat-up bike.

We played war games on the street, taking sides, and circling each other as if we were the allied forces against the Red Baron and company. In those days, your bicycle was everything, a means of transportation, recreation and status—and I was on the bottom of the totem pole, bikewise.

Of course I was anxious to see what awaited me that Christmas morning, but what I saw far exceeded my expectations.

It was a brand new, candyapple red Schwinn stingray with a banana seat. I took it outside where it gleamed in the sun, and then, I took it for a spin. Despite cleaning being my anathema, I would regularly and proudly clean and polish the red frame, the tires, and the seat itself in the coming years to make sure it continued to maintain that gleam. It’s shining still, in my memory.

Patti Tilson, Mutual 4

One year, my husband, Brent, and I decided we’d like to save the money usually spent on Christmas wrap, so we proposed the idea of “creative wrapping” to our three children. Instead of using holiday paper and bags, we would scour the house for things in which to “wrap” our gifts. The kids were delighted with the idea.

As Christmas drew near, a large kitchen pot, a fishing tackle box, an empty cereal box, each holding a treasure and topped with a colorful bow, appeared under our tree. A pair of jeans, stuffed with crumpled newspaper until stiff and holding a few VHS movies “stood” against the pine branches. New books were sandwiched between bath towels that had been stacked and tied with ribbon. Each gift brought chuckles and discussion as it was placed under the tree, and on Christmas morning, as we un“wrapped” our presents, we laughed out loud.

Jeanne Pontac, Mutual 10

I cherish my travel memories with my husband, Tom, so much more due to the pandemic and restrictions it placed on our travel plans.

A treasured memory was when we took the Christmas Market River Cruise from Prague to Budapest for a week. In Prague, we explored the Jewish Quarters, a castle and the 600-year-old astronomical clock in Old Town Square. Budapest had amazing buildings, classical music and a ballet to enjoy.

Both cities were filled with old world charm, fairytale villages, picturesque countryside and culinary delights, including Bavarian pretzels, beer and strudel. The Christmas crafts at the markets and amazing decorations were spectacular. We even experienced snow and made a snowman for all to enjoy.

Another treasured memory during the holidays was the year we joined the festivities on New Year’s Eve with a spectacular viewing spot in Times Square, New York!

The celebration began with the lighting and raising of the New Year’s Eve ball. We had a wonderful view of the dazzling lights and bustling energy of thousands of people, while at the top of one of the buildings. We were privileged to be confetti engineers, tossing a blizzard of colorful confetti by hand as we welcomed the New Year! This was a treasured holiday memory.

So that only leaves one question— where will we be this holiday? You will have to wait until we experience it somewhere.

Gail Morrison, Mutual 2

As a young girl, I took delight in the many preparations of Christmas: finding that special gift for those on my list, baking our traditional anise Christmas cookies and selecting the perfect tree and decorating it. We always had a live tree, and my father often went into the woods of northern Michigan to chop one down so it would be fresh.

But best of all was what lay underneath the tree: not heaps and heaps of presents but a little village. Years before, when my father began courting my mother, he had arrived to call on her at Christmas and was ushered into the living room to see their tree. Underneath the tree lay a miniature village. Quiet and still, its charm caught his eye. Tucked around the village was a “bed of snow” with pine trees scattered in profusion, thus depicting our Michigan landscape. Cottages were grouped close to the “pond,” with the larger houses (rich people’s homes, I called them) arranged up a hill, down a road or around the bend. Each of the houses was bright with lights of red, blue, green or yellow. So charmed was my father that he commented on it to my grandmother. She proudly informed him that “the little village was something we brought from the farm; Will loved it so.”

My mother’s father had died of pneumonia when she was 8, causing them to rent the farm out and move to the city. The little village had been a favorite of my mother’s father, a man always known to have a twinkle in his eye.

When my parents were married, my father asked to take the little village with them, thereby continuing this family tradition. Each year, he set about to create the little village, just as my mother’s father had done in the early 1900s. The hours he spent building and creating the scene, using two or three books underneath the “snow” to depict the hills, carefully hiding the wires for the lights tucked into each house, placing each house and item in the most picturesque spot, was a work of love and wonder, and I was there to watch it come to life.

As a young bride at Christmastime far away in California, I longed for the little village. So I set out to find a replica, but there were no duplicates. Finally, I settled for ceramic houses and shops and soon took delight in setting them up. Where my Michigan family understood the joy of the little village, my California family differed. Now I was the only one who wanted to set up the little village and there were several Christmases without one.

My children are grown now and I am a grandmother. The first year my grandsons saw the village, I could see in their eyes the same wonder I felt in its charm.

Then my daughter called me to come and see something special. She had just purchased a little village complete with houses, trees, lanterns and lights. Her boys were so excited to have a village of their own, just like grandma. And so the tradition that started more than 100 years ago continues.

Ethel Ina Carter, Mutual 2

My favorite Christmas memory was when I was 5 years old (1947), living on Ball Road in the city of Anaheim with my family on a two-and-a-half acre farm. My family consisted of my mother and father, an older brother Bob, a sister named Mary Ann and myself. My sister was seven years older than I was, and Bob was five years older.

I was born in December of 1942. In 1937, Walt Disney produced the famous animated movie, “Bambi.” My folks took Mary Ann and Bob to see it when it came to a theater in Los Angeles.

My sister enjoyed the movie except for the part where Bambi’s mother was shot by a hunter. Otherwise, she loved the animal characters, especially the little skunk named Flower. So, in 1947 the Carter family met for Christmas dinner at our house on Ball Road. I was told to wait in the kitchen while everyone else was in the living room. My sister had bought me a little stuffed animal—the skunk, Flower, and she wanted it to be a surprise. She asked everyone in the living room to not talk about the little skunk, but they couldn’t resist talking about how cute it was. I heard them, but I never let on. I just pretended to be surprised.

It was my favorite gift that year, mainly because I knew how much my sister loved me, using her allowance money to buy it for me.