Winter Holidays from a Child of the ‘70s

Large family gatherings from Thanksgiving through the New Year are some of my most memorable childhood recollections.

Let me take you back in time — a time when a little girl with big brown eyes and long, stringy, brown hair, one tiny framed with the shyest smile, celebrated the winter holidays in the mid to late ‘70s. Old enough to remember but young enough that the age was teetering on turning double digits before the conclusion of that decade. The little girl was me, and I have a holiday story to tell.

We’d pack up the family car for a long Thanksgiving weekend – destination: my grandparents’ home. Aunts, uncles, and cousins of all ages would join us. At times, we would host a close family friend or two that we welcomed to our Thanksgiving table as one of our own. No one missed it; no excuses were ever made. This was our family time. It was time well spent. It was a time that turned into so many happy memories.

With a genuine interest in each other’s lives, we greatly anticipated a complete update of all the intricate details of how things were with all. Everyone was an important, valued member of our family and everyone knew we were lucky because of this close family full of support and love.

We had good times, hmmm, perhaps competitive fun. Well organized by the older cousins, we donned matching shirts proudly displaying the family name for our annual football turkey bowl. We planned and executed concerts and shows for the adults. There were the endless all-nighters and, I should probably add, sometimes downright dangerous games of Monopoly to telling spooky stories while piled in our sleeping bags.  There were kids covering the family room floor with not an inch to spare of open space. (It never failed that when all were finally positioned comfortably there was guaranteed giggling as someone would emerge tripping and trampling on others awkwardly to maneuver through the maze of cousins because nature called.)

We’d swipe tastes of the turkey and fixings as the meal was prepared. We’d sneak away with a few more desserts than our stomachs could handle.

Unquestionably, Grandpa sat at the head of the table, leading us in grace. There was the endless table with extensions of leaf after leaf after leaf, squishing us tightly with an added flare of mismatched cafeteria-style chairs. We’d pass around the bowls, enjoying the family feast.

Closing my eyes with a deep inhale, I am right back there. The smell of Grandma’s cooking, everything seasoned just right. Turning to the right, I catch my cousin red-handed taking a bite of my stuffing while I wasn’t looking.

Thanksgiving was just the beginning. Our holidays blended. We went directly to the Christmas season, having already prepared and adorned the Christmas tree to enjoy for Thanksgiving week.

Then, here we go, right to my all-time favorite holiday: CHRISTMAS!! Life in the ‘70s brought longer Christmas school breaks. Snowfall seemed heavier (maybe that’s because I was smaller), canceling school more often and extending our holiday break with more wintery fun.

Christmas Eve and Christmas Day always were and continue to be the most peaceful I’ve experienced in any calendar year. The magic has never died. There’s a comradery of peace exuding togetherness, genuine smiles, and kind gestures for others. People seemed to prioritize this and be a bit more mindful of their manners. Back then, little things were what mattered.

It was stockings hung by the chimney and, if you didn’t have a chimney, well, in the ‘70s, there were cardboard chimneys you could hang on a wall complete with a mantle to fulfill the experience.

We believed, and we awaited the magical night Santa would stop by our home – all the while hoping we were good enough to get a little something and terrified each year could possibly be the year for a lump of coal. We wondered at times if we’d pushed it too far and might be passed by altogether. You just never really knew.

We left letters. We prepared a lovely display of milk and cookies for Santa to enjoy. We stayed up waiting to hear the landing of the reindeer on our roof.  It was magical. We could doze off repeatedly; we’d check under the Christmas tree, finding it bare. Somehow, at some point in the wee hours of the night, Santa would slip in and suddenly turn our living room into a room straight out of the North Pole by leaving candy and presents. It never failed. Just at that one moment, I dozed off just a little too long, and he showed up.

My little girl heart was happy. Usually, I would receive a new Barbie, maybe outdoor equipment like a sled or some moon boots. I got an easy bake oven once and would always receive some fun types of crafts. Stockings were filled with everything wrapped perfectly, including that book of lifesavers we got every year. Ironically, candy and new toothbrushes arrived in the same stocking.  Santa knew how to look after us.

Live trees were a must in the ‘70s. Most families had one, maybe two — unlike today when we have numerous, which are themed, as well as conveniently pre-lit. The bulbs were huge. Quite honestly, they were a fire hazard indoors and out. Many got hot, as in, burn you hot. You had to army crawl under the and get poked by pine needles to be sure it had enough water. (Being the smallest in my house, I seemed to be good at that job and was somehow automatically selected for the deed.)

Trees were covered in homemade ornaments — anything from strung popcorn and construction paper garland to knitted or ceramic-painted ornaments. Oh, and my word, the TINSEL! Goodness, that stuff kept appearing with the pine needles year-round. No worries, though. If you wanted to avoid the tinsel mayhem, you could pick up a couple of cans of snow from the hardware store and flock your own tree. I even recall using paper plates to glue uncooked noodles to paint for decorations. We called them paper plate ornaments. It was that simple.

There was no social media. No one cared about the latest fad, nor about having the most expensive designer shoes. Let’s not even talk about the hottest technology that’s obsolete before you can pay it off. We kept it simple, cherishing our time.

There was a game of UNO challenging as many people as possible. There were dolls and Barbies, GI Joes, dressing up, little things for big imaginations. There was no texting or snapping, just genuine playtime with friends. Our imaginations were great. We had box homes we fully decorated and cut outdoors and windows. Our play phones would call each other, and if we didn’t have enough to go around, we just strung a rope to Styrofoam cups for a party line of our own.  The only electronic item I ever saw under my tree was a tape recorder (so I could be a singing star to my 45 rpm records) and then, when I was a teen, the classic boom box to take everywhere.  Music was our lifeline in those days.

My brother received a Polaroid camera, and we shook those instant photos until they dried to see one of us with our eyes shut. However, we would laugh about it. No filters, no editing, just genuinely enjoying those times.

Homemade villages surrounded our train track. Christmas specials aired on television only once, and the entire family would gather. Hot chocolate in hand, we’d savor the moment. After all, we knew it would be an entire year before we were able to see some of our favorite specials air again on television.

Ice skating, sled riding, igloo making, and snow angels. Those were the days. Wind burned, frozen faces melted over a cup of warm soup to ward off any cold weather bugs we may have developed from hours in the freezing snow that covered neighborhood yards.

Poinsettias and mistletoes were everywhere. Christmas amaryllises were good gifts for neighbors and friends passing through or someone you just never knew what to get.

I saw my share of fruitcakes, rum cakes, pizzelles, and cakes made from a kit of your favorite Christmas character.

Traditions of days gone by are kept alive by those who loved winter holidays in the ‘70s. I still have a tree in my home that’s nothing but homemade ornaments or ornaments specifically chosen for a member of my family, dating back to when my Dad was a small boy through my own children’s creations over their school years. These are my treasures on the one tree I chose to have Santa place our family gifts.

I can’t seem to get them to write letters to Santa anymore, but Santa still leaves them a letter assessing all the coal-worthy deeds they pulled off that year — just to re-assure that eyes are always watching.

I still make endless rounds of hot cocoa and welcome as many as willing to watch some of my favorite Christmas specials and sing the quirky songs aloud. I hold a mistletoe over my grown children’s heads, requiring a mandatory kiss from Mom. Sometimes, I will settle for just the hug.

I have had the privilege to continue to share every Christmas morning with both of my parents throughout my entire lifetime. I realize stating that at my age is almost unimaginable, but I have been blessed with them by my side every Christmas morning. The memories they created for me have been passed on to my children, regardless of how corny they think I am. No present in this world could top my family. They are my most cherished gift.

Life was good back in the day.  I wouldn’t change those holiday experiences of the 1970s for those of any other decade.

Unlike today’s glamorized Christmas décor, expensive gifts, and managing schedules while families try to gather amid chaos, those 1970s memories are precious gems of the past. I know I can’t turn back time, but I can keep some of those moments alive in my home by sharing the old traditions while experiencing the new.

Now sit back, grab a warm cup of cocoa, a pizzelle, and a slice of rum cake. Text or snap your friends and invite them to FaceTime you to make a string of popcorn. Ask them to create a paper plate ornament along your cardboard faux fireside mantle while watching your favorite Christmas show on demand.

Happy holidays, friends, and a very merry and blessed Christmas to all!