I know the reason for the season is to celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ Savior of all mankind. Today however I have been reflecting upon Christmas memories having to do with families. I do not think it would take much of a stretch to link families with Christ's birth etc, etc, so you Purists can settle down and enjoy or run off screaming blasphemy! warning all creatures great and small to not read this blog.
One of the Christmas memories my mother is fond of telling and she has told to everyone she meets around Christmas, has to do with a rabbit and it's dropping. To my children, wife, and my siblings, nieces, nephews, and anyone else who has been told this story more than once I am truly sorry for the pain you may well be reliving. I am only going to touch on it briefly. As the legend goes Santa Claus (wink, wink, nudge, nudge) had bestowed the gift of a real live white rabbit to the wee Slaughter children. Upon entering the living room to inspect the booty (the pirate definition of booty not the Snoop Doggie Dog one) we were reportedly delighted to see the rabbit hopping around. My sister always thinking of food made the observation that the rabbit had left some raisins behind for us. My parents, by my mother's report, broke into fits of laughter and nearly wet themselves. I remember none of this and only have my mother's word on it since Dad has been dead for 25 years. I do remember that the candy canes and carmel pop-corn balls in the stocking were infested with ants and I was more than a little annoyed by the fact that Santa had brought insect infested goods into the house.
My wife reminded me of a Christmas memory relating to our own children. My mother had purchased a book called "Peeky the Curious Elf" for the children, they liked it and read it a great deal. In some of the drawings of "Peeky" his pants ride just a tad bit low, I am certain the intent was to make the story even more charming. My oldest daughter, a blossoming artist decided that the original artist had left out an important detail, the "butt crack". She in a very uniform and anatomically correct manner added the "butt cheeks" to the drawings of "Peeky". When she was done the children renamed the book "Peeky the Butt Cheek Elf". Melinda and I had a good laugh as we talked about it. Melinda is going to see if she can find a copy of the book someplace and give it as a gift to all of the kids next year. Of course we'll have Kristine do the artistic editing first.
I also remember the Christmas before my grandfather Slaughter died. I was just 6 years old at the time but the trip made an impression on me, not because grandpa was dying because I didn't know that at the time, but because of the trip we took that Christmas Eve. I distinctly remember my parents loading all of us children in our pajamas into the back of the old Volkswagen van with some luggage and packages and heading out into the night. We were traveling from our home in Ukiah to Bakersfield, a trip of 400 miles on old highways, this was pre-interstate. I know that as I faded in and out of sleep during the trip my main concern had to do with how Santa was going to find us and deliver the gifts that night in Bakersfield and not to our empty home in Ukiah. My father who always loved Christmas sensed my concern and reassured me that Santa had been alerted to our temporary new address that evening. This placated me for a while but I was till uneasy about the whole thing. Later in the trip my father said "Hey look kids there is Santa and his sleigh, he is heading the same direction we are, I'm certain he knows were to find us" as he pointed up into the star lit night skies. I strained my eyes and to this day I am pretty certain I saw Santa and his reindeer, either that or some blood vessels burst in my eyes because I was looking so hard, but you get the picture. The next morning we woke up to some gifts and stockings and spent a day or two playing with our toys. I don't remember seeing grandpa very much during that visit, but it has been a good memory for me over the years. It helped cement in my mind that my father knew what he was talking about and I could trust him. Thinking about it now makes me miss him a great deal. He never got to see his own grandchildren open their gifts on Christmas and I have often wondered what it would be like to see him with his grandchildren at Christmas, to hear him speak to the Nisa man in Danish in reference to each of the children.
Anyway enjoy Christmas this year, piss poor economy and all. If your father is still alive don't take him for granted this Christmas, if he is gone think of those good Christmas pasts. Merry Christmas!
One of the Christmas memories my mother is fond of telling and she has told to everyone she meets around Christmas, has to do with a rabbit and it's dropping. To my children, wife, and my siblings, nieces, nephews, and anyone else who has been told this story more than once I am truly sorry for the pain you may well be reliving. I am only going to touch on it briefly. As the legend goes Santa Claus (wink, wink, nudge, nudge) had bestowed the gift of a real live white rabbit to the wee Slaughter children. Upon entering the living room to inspect the booty (the pirate definition of booty not the Snoop Doggie Dog one) we were reportedly delighted to see the rabbit hopping around. My sister always thinking of food made the observation that the rabbit had left some raisins behind for us. My parents, by my mother's report, broke into fits of laughter and nearly wet themselves. I remember none of this and only have my mother's word on it since Dad has been dead for 25 years. I do remember that the candy canes and carmel pop-corn balls in the stocking were infested with ants and I was more than a little annoyed by the fact that Santa had brought insect infested goods into the house.
My wife reminded me of a Christmas memory relating to our own children. My mother had purchased a book called "Peeky the Curious Elf" for the children, they liked it and read it a great deal. In some of the drawings of "Peeky" his pants ride just a tad bit low, I am certain the intent was to make the story even more charming. My oldest daughter, a blossoming artist decided that the original artist had left out an important detail, the "butt crack". She in a very uniform and anatomically correct manner added the "butt cheeks" to the drawings of "Peeky". When she was done the children renamed the book "Peeky the Butt Cheek Elf". Melinda and I had a good laugh as we talked about it. Melinda is going to see if she can find a copy of the book someplace and give it as a gift to all of the kids next year. Of course we'll have Kristine do the artistic editing first.
I also remember the Christmas before my grandfather Slaughter died. I was just 6 years old at the time but the trip made an impression on me, not because grandpa was dying because I didn't know that at the time, but because of the trip we took that Christmas Eve. I distinctly remember my parents loading all of us children in our pajamas into the back of the old Volkswagen van with some luggage and packages and heading out into the night. We were traveling from our home in Ukiah to Bakersfield, a trip of 400 miles on old highways, this was pre-interstate. I know that as I faded in and out of sleep during the trip my main concern had to do with how Santa was going to find us and deliver the gifts that night in Bakersfield and not to our empty home in Ukiah. My father who always loved Christmas sensed my concern and reassured me that Santa had been alerted to our temporary new address that evening. This placated me for a while but I was till uneasy about the whole thing. Later in the trip my father said "Hey look kids there is Santa and his sleigh, he is heading the same direction we are, I'm certain he knows were to find us" as he pointed up into the star lit night skies. I strained my eyes and to this day I am pretty certain I saw Santa and his reindeer, either that or some blood vessels burst in my eyes because I was looking so hard, but you get the picture. The next morning we woke up to some gifts and stockings and spent a day or two playing with our toys. I don't remember seeing grandpa very much during that visit, but it has been a good memory for me over the years. It helped cement in my mind that my father knew what he was talking about and I could trust him. Thinking about it now makes me miss him a great deal. He never got to see his own grandchildren open their gifts on Christmas and I have often wondered what it would be like to see him with his grandchildren at Christmas, to hear him speak to the Nisa man in Danish in reference to each of the children.
Anyway enjoy Christmas this year, piss poor economy and all. If your father is still alive don't take him for granted this Christmas, if he is gone think of those good Christmas pasts. Merry Christmas!
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