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Ingredients: My memories of Christmas are beautiful. I don't know how my mother shopped for those things. There were no closets to hide things in, then we never looked in closets or attics.
So there must have been a Santa Claus. We waited to the last to get our tree as money was hard to come by. If the bigger boys didn't get one on the hill, Mom would give us money to see if they were marked down. Auntie would get us burned out or chipped ornaments from work. If it hadn't been for her living where we lived there would have been a lot less.
We all lived in the big house with grandpa, as grandma was gone to heaven. My dad worked hard, but there was never enough money. Mom would bake and cook. She was the best. Apple dumplings were plentiful with dip; Grandpa made the dip. Chicken, dressing, biscuits, we had what we could eat. We knew we were loved.
We never got to open our packages until Christmas morning when Mom and Dad got out of bed. After dinner and we had stuffed ourselves with all that good food, Mom would let us walk to our other grandparents' house. The other grandchildren would already be there. We stayed for awhile. After we got our presents of socks and oranges and peppermint sticks, on our way we would be. We all still went to our parents' home on Christmas Day after we grew up and had families. Mom and Dad are gone.
P.S.- I've forgotten the part in the church Christmas play and how pretty we looked, the little box of candy, the parts we had to learn, the songs and Miss Anna. God bless you at this Christmas time.
(This wonderful glimpse at Mary Ann.'s Christmas memories came from a newspaper article in The Herald Dispatch.)
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