A detroit christmas. 1940
Our memories are our treasures. Sharing them with others, only increases their value.
Due to my dementia, [[short term memory loss) and worse still, my aphasia, [[inability to recall and verbalize simple words) I have to mimic my ’TV Guide.” I have nothing new to post. Just reruns.
However, the following makes me smile,,, and a little teary-eyed
1940. CHRISTMAS IN DETROIT,, tponetom
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Recently, I wrote, “There were times to remember and cherish. They could have been garish or revolutionary, or gentle and kind.
To our Family, Friends and Neighbors
[[Sometimes it is hard to tell them apart.)
It is somewhat difficult for us to associate Christmas with Arizona. The specter of Santa wearing a bikini and delivering his presents in a Dune Buggy is ludicrous to say the least. Everyone knows he has to have snow.
Skeptic that I may be, I still remember the pomp and ceremony of Church Services during our two-week holiday vacation from school. The obligatory attendance at various Church and School functions was reluctantly, but always unanimously complied with. The threats of eternal damnation and Hells Fire were always lurking in the back of our minds and we were never quite courageous enough to challenge those threats by our absence.
In addition to the spiritual duties, an incredible number of secular activities were crammed into that brief holiday season. The chores at home were never ending. Do the dishes, wash the floor, shovel the snow, take out the cinders, take a bath and press a crease in your slacks to save the 30 cents that Joe Truillo, the tailor, would charge for pressing them. And all of those chores were done with a smile because we knew Christmas was just around the corner.
Devising ways to earn a nickel or a dime to augment one's Christmas Fund was an ongoing crusade. Parents were hard pressed to have a "nice" Christmas." All families were not created equal at this time of year. Many children and adults alike had to get their material satisfactions through the simple expediency of "window shopping."
In the month of December, a day seldom passed when we did not trek the 13 blocks down Moffat Street to the Sears Store Toy Department on Gratiot and Van Dyke. Sometimes it was hard to get near the Lionel Train display or the Erector Set exhibit. That did not matter very much because we had everything memorized and stored in our "wish" bank. The household chores, the window shopping and the Church rituals only whetted our appetite for the more exciting theater that was ever present on the street.
I cannot remember a Holiday Season when the streets were ever completely deserted. With their horse drawn wagons, the milkman and the iceman were out before dawn, delivering their wares. The newspaper boy was up bright and early delivering the morning edition. He was scrupulously careful to deposit his papers in a clean and dry location, perhaps in anticipation of a few Christmas "tips" on collection day. Then there were the mourning women, shrouded in black, wending their way in an irregular procession to attend the six o'clock weekday mass. The bus stop on the corner was always inhabited with either the weary neighbors, returning home from their midnight shift job or the bleary-eyed, not yet awake denizens of the daytime shopping parade whose destination was always, "Downtown!"
This potpourri of humanity typified our Holiday neighborhood. They had one thing in common. They were all approachable. Some were smiling and brightly animated and others were grudgingly cordial but very few of them wanted to be ignored.
Perhaps the frenetic pace of the holiday season pumped up the adrenalin in many of us, creating the excitement that we reveled in. We created our own "highs," long before any of us heard of "recreational drugs."
The children were extremely adaptable to the weather conditions in December. An abundance of snow encouraged sledding, snowball fights and the creative building of snow people. With a light snow covering, hockey was the sport du jour. An unseasonably warm day would bring out the football in anticipation of the New Years Day bowl games.
In mid to late afternoon the older people would come out, bundled in their overcoats, to be entertained by those in command of the outdoor stage. Fathers returning from their day shift jobs would augment the audience and either kibbitz with the kids on the street or join in serious discussion with their neighbors or just content themselves with a warming drink, happy to be removed from the monotony of the assembly line.
There would be a lull during the dinner hour. After supper the kids would congregate on the street corner and verbalize their expectant fantasies. Hope was a constant companion. Later, disappointments would be rationalized.
Funny, we never seemed to get cold on those nights. At the end of the evening there seemed to be a universal feeling of, “peace on earth, good will toward men.”
Christmas was a sharing of activities, a sharing of relationships and a sharing of responsibilities. The greatest gift we had to give, was, simply, ourselves.
Tom and Peggy O.
