In the evening, after the livestock had been fed and the cows milked, everyone gathered again around the Christmas tree. The old farmhouse wasn't large, but somehow it always seemed to hold everyone, sons and daughters and in-laws, all the children and babies- especially the babies! There were always a few "extras," too, because anyone who didn't have a place to go on Christmas was welcome at my grandparents' house. And Grandmother saw to it that every person there had a package under the tree. We'd sing carols for a while, until the kids got restless. Then we'd light the candles on the tree and sit in their glow and sing "Silent Night."
Once the candles had been blown out, it was pandemonium, with kids yelling and paper and ribbons flying. Papa's special gift was always a five-pound box of See's candy, which, for the rest of the evening, he took great pleasure in passing around. Finally, stuffed with pumpkin pie and chocolate, loaded down with packages and sleepy children, everyone would drift away. But never very far away. Because to each and every one of us, that old farmhouse was home. And every day my grandparents lived in it was Christmas.
When I was very small, we lived for a time with my grandparents. On one of those long-ago Christmases, a box arrived from far away-no one seemed to know where. In the box was a beautiful, brand-new Lionel electric train.
Everyone thought Papa must have bought it, though he steadfastly denied it, and to be sure, it wasn't his way to be modest about his gifts. I think he would have been proud as punch to be the bestower of that wonderful train, as he was with his annual Christmas box of chocolates. So we never knew where it came from, and if Papa knew, he took the secret with him when he left us.
In any event, on this and every Christmas, I wish for you the gifts my grandparents gave to me and to everyone-kin or stranger-who came into their home. Simple gifts: warmth and welcome and unconditional love.
