There’s No Place Like Home for Christmas We heard the tell-tale screech of my father’s car pulling into the drive. Five O’ clock had rolled around, and having the whole day for laundry, we were expected to be ready. We three kids scrambled to finish our packing, cramming the last bits of road-tripping essentials into our already bursting book-bags. All the while, our mother was frantically trying to herd the three housecats into the car. After about a dozen other distractions, we were finally set. Minivan stocked with luggage, presents, cats, and people. We hunkered down for the six-hour drive to Mitchell, South Dakota. Around Neligh, Nebraska we’d stop for gas, and to stretch our legs. I was groggy from falling asleep in the car and, therefore, cranky. My kid brother, James, complained about his Gameboy’s dead batteries depriving him of Pokémon Red. And Jessica, the oldest, was frankly tired of listening to my brother and I squabble. One more quick check that all eight passengers were secure, and we were back on track. My father, in his infinite wisdom, had a secret weapon meant for exactly this part of the trip. The “Listening Library” intro …show more content…
Danielle, the youngest got to play elf and distribute the presents, as well as festive head gear for whoever was interested. Grandpa Ray took his usual place in the recliner. He held a garbage bag to clean up the debris as it was produced. Once everyone had their pile, we’d go around in a circle. Cameras flashed and laughter filled the room. We each received a handmade quilt, along with the customary painted ceramic ornament, a keepsake for the event. Along with several other odds and ends.With the conclusion of the gift exchange, everyone dispersed to sort through our loot. With the exception of my immediate family, who were expected next to dawn our Sunday best and head back to the
I never predicted this beautiful trip ending up as a nightmare in my existence. I drove for approximately 40 minutes and my partner shared the driving for an additional 40 minutes. We were driving my friend mom’s brand new Toyota Camry XLE; one of the most comfortable cars I had ever been in. We enjoyed the elongated ride with new hit music, and air conditioning set to an exact temperature that met our necessities. On the way to the beach some doubts about going there started to circle around our minds, but the fact that we were about half way there made them a...
Know this song...Dashing through the snow in a one-horse open sleigh? Well it was written by organist James Lord Piermont for a Thanksgiving program at a school church in Savannah, Georgia. O’re the things we go laughing all the way. Jingle Bells which is the name of this song, is one the most popular Christmas carol in the world. This song was first released in 1857 and published with the name One horse open sleigh. Jingle Bells was often used as a drinking song in Christmas parties, people used to jingle their cups with ice and sing along.
In the story “A Christmas Memory” by Truman Capote, he sends us a message that says memory has the power to let people relive their lives. Capote conveys this message through mixed emotions between Buddy and his 60 year old cousin. Memory helps people remember great times with different people and how they felt during those periods of time.
Most everything that was received as gifts was either homemade or homegrown too. Mothers and grandmothers made dresses and aprons for girls from flour sacks. Boys got socks and maybe gloves; perhaps a really lucky boy got a scarf, one that was hand knitted. In other words, there wasn’t fluff and bling; the gifts were handcrafted for practical purposes.
Christmas Carol is a popular novella which was written by Charles Dickens and published in December 1843. Scrooge who was a businessman as the main character that was a frugal and tight-fisted person. He was haunted by the spirit of his business partner, Jacob Marley and the three Christmas spirits in the night of Christmas Eve. The three ghosts visited Mr. Scrooge one by one which have Ghost of the Past, then Ghost of the Present and last one was Ghost of the future which was the most important ghost.
Adults all seem to love Christmas plays. Whether it’s the same old generic style or a comedy, they all enjoy the holiday season. However, most people don’t realize the torture of being the lead character. From hours of line study, to the embarrassment of wearing that horrible costume, to the agony of song motions. They all leave a lasting effect on your life. One of the most memorable plays I was in, for many reasons, was A Christmas Ho-Down.
In "A Christmas Carol" by Charles Dickens, Ebenezer Scrooge undergoes a transformation as a result of his encounters with three ghosts and becomes a kind, happy, and generous man. His greedy, cruel, and grumpy demeanor is replaced seemingly overnight, but he doesn’t just wake up and decide to be nice. It takes three Spirits to change his outlook on life - The Ghosts of Christmases Past, Present, and Future. The Ghost of Christmas Past makes Scrooge begin to regret his selfishness, and the Ghost of Christmas Present begins to teach him about others. This second Ghost helps to make him realize that money doesn't buy happiness. The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come, however, teaches the most profound lesson of all: unless he changes, no one will care if Scrooge dies. Because of the Ghosts, by Christmas morning Ebenezer Scrooge is a completely different person from the man who went to bed on Christmas Eve.
After stumbling upstairs I go to the computer and turn on Da Yoopers’ “Da turdy Point Buck”, the song our family must listen to before we head out the door and into the woods. With the song blaring through the house, I walk into my brother’s room, turn the lights on, rip the covers from his bed, and narrowly escape a swift kick from his leg. After a breakfast of pancakes my brother and I jump into his truck and head for the hills. We own 120 acres three miles from the house, so we must drive to our destination. Any other morning there would be no vehicles on the road, but this particular morning we pass about ten other trucks all taking their passengers to their particular hunting spots.
Although I have grown up to be entirely inept at the art of cooking, as to make even the most wretched chef ridicule my sad baking attempts, my childhood would have indicated otherwise; I was always on the countertop next to my mother’s cooking bowl, adding and mixing ingredients that would doubtlessly create a delicious food. When I was younger, cooking came intrinsically with the holiday season, which made that time of year the prime occasion for me to unite with ounces and ounces of satin dark chocolate, various other messy and gooey ingredients, numerous cooking utensils, and the assistance of my mother to cook what would soon be an edible masterpiece. The most memorable of the holiday works of art were our Chocolate Crinkle Cookies, which my mother and I first made when I was about six and are now made annually.
It was a cold October afternoon in 1996, and I raced down the stairs and out the front door, in an attempt to avoid my mother's questions of where I was going, with whom, and when I'd be back. I saw my friend Kolin pull up in his rusted, broken-down gray van, and the side door opened as Mark jumped out and motioned for me to come. I was just about to get in when my mother called from the front doorway. She wanted to talk to me, but I didn't want to talk to her, so I hopped in pretending I hadn't heard her and told Kolin to drive off.
One Saturday night, Kasi, Beth, Beka, Amy, and I had nothing to do. Like always, at times like this, we decided we would ride around town. We let the top down on Kasi’s vehicle. It was a red Jeep Wrangler, with red interior and big mud tires. We climbed in the Jeep one by one until we were all inside. Amy, Beka, and Beth all sat in the back after a fight about who had said “shotgun” first. The back was the most uncomfortable. The Jeep was only built for two backseat passengers, so with three back there, it was a tough ride. Kasi and I slid into the front seats. We strapped on our seatbelts, trying to convince the three of them in the back to do so. Our friends did not want to bother strapping in because they were too crowded, and there were only two seatbelts anyway. I was sixteen at the time, and they were all seventeen. We were the perfect picture of youth, five young girls packed into a Jeep with shorts, sweatshirts, and ball caps on.
Getting there was always an adventure in itself. Car or boat were the two options of conveyance. The road was terrible. Getting our old Volvo Station Wagon over and around the pits, ruts, and fallen trees involved tactics of fable: feats that no ordinary mortal would dare to attempt. At least, that is how I perceived the various trials from the back seat of the car. I was only aware that Dad would frequently stop the car and exit, to examine, saw, or do whatever was necessary for us to go further on our journey. I sat silently and waited for the journey to come to a conclusion. The destination is what I longed for.
Frosty the Snowman waves hello alongside Santa 's reindeer that are ready to take off. Candy canes line the sidewalk and the ginger bread dolls dance in a merry circle. The trees all sparkle with thousands of red, yellow, purple, blue, and orange lights. Out back, Mary and Joseph stand over baby Jesus, Choo-Choo train’s chug in spot, stars twinkle with bright yellow bulbs, and Mr. and Mrs. Santa Clause wave in the distance. Kerkhoven, MN, the location of the happiest house on the block. Every year my breath is always taken away as my eyes struggle to soak in the utter abundance of Christmas spirit. I 'm smiling and we 're not even inside yet.
The ruckus from the bottom of the truck is unbearable, because of the noise and excessive shaking. As we slowly climbed the mountain road to reach our lovely cabin, it seemed almost impossible to reach the top, but every time we reached it safely. The rocks and deep potholes shook the truck and the people in it, like a paint mixer. Every window in the truck was rolled down so we could have some leverage to hold on and not loose our grip we needed so greatly. The fresh clean mountain air entered the truck; it smelt as if we were lost: nowhere close to home. It was a feeling of relief to get away from all the problems at home. The road was deeply covered with huge pines and baby aspen trees. Closely examining the surrounding, it looks as if it did the last time we were up here.
Ever since I could remember, I have spent Christmas at my grandmother’s house, a house which is full of comfort, warmth, and happiness. At Christmas, I have always been able to escape the cold and dark real world allowing myself to truly enjoy just several moments in time. These moments have left impressionable memories from my childhood making Christmas a holiday that is special to me and my family. It is a time for my family to get together, share stories, laugh, and even cry.