The Season is Upon Us

 I recently watched a Christmas video in which a mother wrapped a paperclip in a box with a bow and gave it to her three-year-old. The little girl was elated when she opened the box. She was filled with joy and wonder. She played with that paperclip like it was the greatest gift ever and thanked her mother from the bottom of her heart. It’s the little things.

Growing up, we Nolte kids had more Christmases that fell on hard times than I can count. Some of those tough ones, however, were the most memorable because our parents made them fun and funny. I learned that you can be grateful and joyful even in the most challenging times; it’s all in your attitude.

Below is a poem I just wrote; take a moment and read some of my childhood memories when we were broke.

One year, it was the night before Christmas, and all through the house, the wood floors were creaking as the train across the highway shook the whole house. The stockings were near the wood-burning stove as we had no central heat in the home, and often, our toes would be froze. Because of the cold, we were easy to wake; our dad rang a belt of jingle bells so he could escape. Leaving his cold room headed straight to the kitchen to start the hot chocolate so we could get sipping. We rushed to our stockings, our favorite part; some years had proven the stockings were filled with a store’s cart. Colored candies, tiny jewelry, nuts and oranges, candy canes, magazines, stickers, and gold foil-wrapped-up chocolate. We kids would sit in our beds and go through the lot, admiring each little thing that Santa had got.

No, not this year. Our stockings had us looking around like deer—a deer in a headlight was at first sight. There were no candies, nuts, or chocolates this time. It was saltines, green beans, and a wooden spoon in mine. There were no stickers, girly stuff, fruit, or magazines, just handwritten notes folded in two could be seen.

Santa signed the note, although it looked like my dad’s.  With a riddle to solve and a treasure map to follow, we put on our shoes and took a last swallow. Turning our heads with a jerk because we pushed through the screen door excited to learn what was in store. We followed the clues that led us to the coop, into the garage, and the cow field, and we did a loop. It led us back to the house and the Christmas tree, where we all found our gifts and expressed them gleefully.

We had waffles and more cocoa waiting on the stove. We warmed up our bolides near the wood-burning stove. Then Kim and I set up a trade shop, swapping the store-bought cans. “Spinach, tuna, peas, get your green bean cans!”  We all shared the saltines with some donated sausage and cheese, made our treasure maps, and rewrapped those memories. We wrote each other notes, went on scavenger hunts, traded, and were elated until our hearts were full. It was the simplest gift of fun and Yuletide that year.

I hope you enjoyed the poem; I like doing this on the spot as it helps with creative writing exercises. However, that story is true!

Now, as this holiday season approaches, I hope that this one is filled with joy, laughter, and love and that we all have an attitude of gratitude. Some of us may be in hard times not by choice but by each unique challenge.

When life hands you lemons, make lemonade, and like the mom with the paperclip and my folks with the cans, give the gift of treasured memories that keep on giving and create true memories for a lifetime.

An admired Master Martial Artist colleague of mine shared his philosophy about attitude with me. He said, “Winning doesn’t show one’s character, but losing shows it all.” I wish you the best of times and the greatest of attitudes. Hard times will be eased and best handled with heart and good spirit.

Thank you for reading and your support. Please comment below and share a special holiday memory; I’d love to hear about it. Subscribe and share