My family traditions are a mixture of old and new. When I was a kid, we never put up our Christmas tree until after my brother Matt's birthday on December 18th. That way he would feel like it was his birthday, not Christmas/ birthday. For the longest time I carried on the tradition, especially in Phoenix, where if you did get a real tree, you got it late so it would still be standing by Christmas!! When we moved to Illinois, I was lonely for my family and friends, so I started decorating earlier, and the house then felt more festive.
We either pick a Christmas angel from a tree in the mall or somewhere to give to a needy family. This year there was a family in need in Shane's preschool, so we donated some clothes to them. I try to make sure we give back, and to show Arielle and now Shane that it's about giving.
I still make Christmas cookies by the ton to share with family and friends. Of course there are cookies left out for Santa, and the stockings are hung on each bedroom door, and Arielle knows she can look in her stocking, but then we all gather on our bed to look at the goodies together, then go downstairs. On Christmas Eve, we read "Night before Christmas", this year we will add "Polar Express", Shane's FAVORITE book!!
I always take a picture of the tree will all the goodies under it, lights glowing.. before the destruction !! Even when it is just the 4 of us, I still make a big dinner, usually ham, like my Mom did, and ALWAYS Christmas cake (Christmas Apple Laurie); it is the best!!! We have had that cake every Christmas since I can remember. When we decorate the tree, we listen to Christmas music and have some yummy drinks!! Then we sit and admire our work!! I usually take the tree down on New Year's Day, just like my Mom, but I have been known to leave it up a few days past.... I love Christmas!!
~Susan Flanagan (Matt Abbe's sister)
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Bob, Thanks for writing what your Dad told you about his experiences in WWII. I especially liked the "Stille Nacht" story. I agree wholeheartedly with your closing thoughts that the sacrifices of their generation made it possible for us to celebrate with our families in freedom today.
I asked your Dad, several times, about his war experiences but he was very reluctant to talk about them. He finally did tell me a bit about the Battle of the Bulge, but nothing about about the cold, the suffering, or the combat that he shared with you. He only said that they were left to clean up small groups of resistance after Patton marched through. And he made that sound rather uneventful.
Your mother said the guys rarely or never talked about the war with their wives. Often when several couples got together, the men would share stories among themselves, but if any of the wives came near, the topic of conversation changed.
As to Jim, Bud and Pat...my Dad (Jim) was not in the military during the war. He was never drafted - I think because of his age (he was 7 yrs. older than your Dad), plus being married with three children. However, after Pearl Harbor, he joined the civil service and spent the war years working there in the rebuilding effort. I still remember the night he came home after the war with grass hula skirts for my mother and me. My mother never wore hers, but my friends and I sure had a lot of "pretend" fun playing with both of them.
Pat (brother-in-law) served in the BCI (Burma/China/India) Theater, literally hacking their way through the jungle to build/rebuild the Ledo/Burma Road while being attacked by air. The jungle, of course, was home to various wild animals, including large poisonous snakes. If you know anything about Uncle Pat, you know this was not a comfort zone for him. I suspect he feared the animals as much as the enemy.
Finally, Bud, served in Okinawa. I don't know much about his experience there except that my Dad, Bob, and Peg all agreed, he had the worst assignment and suffered through more hardship and intense combat when compared to that of Pat and Bob.
Here are some tidbits about the day the war ended. Aunt Peg supervised 105 women working the nightshift (3-11 PM) for a sewing manufacturer. The company converted from what they normally made to sewing parachutes for the war - the small ones used for dropping bombs. When the announcement came that the war was over, Aunt Peg told me the women left their machines, and ran out of the shop to join the crowds streaming toward downtown. She stayed to lock up and found that in their excitement, some had left their purses behind and many left their machine running. Incidentally, I understand that not only Aunt Peg, but Esther (your mother), plus Bernice, (your grandmother), Aunt Stella, and my mother, all worked at that company. I'm not sure of the name any more.
Later that night, Aunt Peg joined many of their neighborhood friends at Shipman's, a local bar, and to her complete surprise and amazement, in walked her parents, Walter & Maude. Alcohol was never allowed in their home. I believe that was Great Grandpa Somer's rule. But on that special night, they wanted to be with friends to celebrate, not only victory, but that their sons and son-in-law were all safe and would be coming home soon. ~Carol Churchard
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Here's a Christmas story Aunt Peg told me that I think the Longfields who knew her would enjoy. At Christmastime, when she was a little girl, she saw a beautiful doll in the window of a department store and told her parents, that all she wanted for Christmas, was that doll. For whatever reason, (in later years, Aunt Peg thought most likely because it cost more than they could afford) they bought her a doll, but not THAT doll. Being a stubborn little girl, she pouted all Christmas Day while her parents, particularly her Dad, were miserable. She was aware that her pouting was having the effect she wanted - that her parents were very upset because they didn't (couldn't) give her the Christmas present she wanted. From then on, her Dad gave her a beautiful doll for Christmas, every year, year after year, even until she was into her twenties. Of course, when telling me the story, Aunt Peg realized what a stinker she had been as a little girl but also liked the idea that her Dad cared so much to give her all those dolls. Only one doll survived over the years and I have it. She mailed it to me about 20 years ago after telling me the story. ~Carol Churchard
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I have a personal Christmas tradition which consists of remembering and pondering the events of a Christmas from the past which had a profound effect on my family. I’m not sure if Carol has ever heard this story but I’m happy to be able to share it with all of you.
Sixty-three years ago this December my father found himself encamped with his fellow soldiers north of Marseille, France, waiting for orders to go to the front. His brothers, Jim and Bud, and his brother-in-law-Pat Walsh were all fighting in various parts of a world gone mad with war. Left behind were his parents, his sister Peg, and his new bride—Esther.
Dad was a Tech Sergeant and the leader of the Intelligence and Reconnaissance platoon. At 24 years he was the oldest member of his platoon, the youngest of whom was only eighteen. They were all members of the 274th Infantry which was known as the “Trailblazers”.
On December 19th the 274th was ordered to board trains for the trip north. Most of the soldiers speculated that they were headed for the Battle of the Bulge where American soldiers were freezing and dying in the forests of Belgium. For 4 1/2 days the soldiers endured cramped, freezing conditions traveling in a boxcar until their train finally stopped, not in Belgium, but at a train station with the sign “Brumath”. They disembarked the train, grabbed their gear, formed in columns of twos, and began to march out of the town. Night was falling and it was very cold and clear. It was December 24, 1944—Christmas Eve—and Dad was marching to war.
The moon rose to reveal a beautiful winter landscape. But the sound of distant rifle and machine-gun fire and the burst of an occasional artillery shell reminded everyone that this was to be a dangerous adventure that they were undertaking.
After a few hours the columns came upon a small town and the soldiers were given a short break. In the center of the town there was a fairly large church and the sound of music coming from within its walls attracted the attention of the soldiers. As they drew closer they could make out the familiar strains of “Silent Night”. Inside the church a choir was singing—it was Christmas Eve. The lyrics of the carol were foreign to the soldiers, however, until one of men recognized “Stille Nacht” and informed the others that the choir was singing in German. That news sent a ripple of fear through the soldiers as they wondered if they were already in Germany, perhaps behind enemy lines. Someone eventually figured out that were probably in Alsace, a province of France where German was spoken.
Soon the men were on the march again, the sounds of the choir growing dimmer and the sound of the guns of war growing more ominous with each step.
For the next three months the 274th engaged some of Hitler’s elite alpine troops in brutal winter battles in the mountains of northern France in a campaign which the Germans called “Nordwind”. The Americans liberated the towns of Wingen-sur-Moder and Philippsbourg, sometimes in vicious house-to-house combat. In Wingen they rescued 250 American troops which had been previously captured. They took the Kreutzberg Ridge and the Spicheren Heights, important strategic locations. Finally, they crossed the Saar River into Germany where they occupied the important German city of Saarbrucken. With Gen. Patton racing to get to Berlin before the Russians, the 274th was assigned the duty of “cleaning up” the pockets of German resistance which lay in Patton’s wake. In March of 1945, with the war in its final stages, the members of the 274th Infantry were placed in reserve. For the Trailblazers, the war was over.
Miraculously, my Dad and all his brothers, including Uncle Pat, survived the war and returned to Grand Rapids. Each in his own characteristically quiet way raised his family in a new world which they had helped to save. Although we probably didn’t think of them in this way as we were growing up, they were all heroes of the highest order.
And so, on Christmas Eve, especially when the choir sings “Silent Night”, I think of a Christmas Eve long ago and far way
when my Dad and my uncles and all of the members of their generation endured unimaginable sacrifices so that we can spend this Christmas with our families and say to each other--“Peace be with you”.
I’ve shared this story with my family so that they may also remember. Thanks for letting me share it with all of you—my extended family.
Best wishes for a most joyous and peaceful Christmas.
~Bob (son of Robert Longfield, Sr. and Esther Longfield)
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My memories of Christmas are of the cardboard fireplace with our stockings and dad filming us as we came in to see what Santa had brought us. On Christmas Eve Karen and I would be talking in our beds (Karen's bed was under the window, so she got a good view of the Christmas lights) about what time we were going to try to get Dad and Mom up in the morning. I remember having hot chocolate, donuts and reading the Nativity, many church plays and a lot of concerts. When my kids were little, they were so excited when we came to Phoenix, all the presents, and Cameron promising Grandma that he wouldn't kill the Christmas tree. Now my children are grown, but we still have traditions to this day. We start on Thanksgiving Day, by watching Macy's Parade and the black and white Miracle on 34th Street, followed by every Christmas movie we own as we start decorating. When Nathan was about 4 and saw the Nativity set up, he asked why baby Jesus was there because he was still in Mary's tummy and they were riding the donkey. So, that year Mary, Joseph and a donkey would start their journey at the end of the hallway and would make their way to the manager. Our church service usually ended on Christmas morning (midnight) and Nathan was the first one to put Jesus in the manager. Now some years as the kids got bigger, the journey took big leaps and bounds. But, the kids whoever is here, take turns putting Jesus in the manager on Christmas Eve and I still have them make the journey. They're a little banged and glued up, but they're still holding up. On Christmas morning, I make cinnamon rolls and orange juice. Cameron is coming on Christmas Day this year and he asked for them. This Christmas, will be the first without my dad, but he will be with us in our hearts and in spirit. We wish you all a blessed holiday season.
~Kim (Churchard) Ramelli (daughter of Carol & Wally Churchard)
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Memories as a child~ decorating the tree with my sisters and Mom and singing Christmas carols...our cardboard fireplace where we hung our stockings...the nativity scene under the tree where I’d lay for hours, reenacting “my” version of the manger story...watching "Rudolph", "Santa Claus is Coming to Town", "The Grinch", and "A Charlie Brown Christmas" with Shelly and any other family member who could stand watching it just another time...watching "It’s a Wonderful Life" when we were older--usually on Christmas Eve...the ONE year we got to open our Christmas Eve present and it WASN’T pajamas--it was a tiny little poodle we named Huggy Bear...those bulb lights that are popular again...the metal tree with the colored wheel--boy, we thought that was cool...candlelit Christmas Eve services...performing in the church Christmas plays...Christmas morning with all the gifts, but more importantly, with my family...
Memories as an adult~Even though Matt and I do not have children, we still have a few of our own traditions. On Christmas Eve, Matt suffers with me as I revisit (yes, again) as many Christmas movie favorites as I can. We also read The Polar Express together every Christmas Eve. When we had our three dogs, we always awoke Christmas morning with the excitement of Santa Paws and what he left our little babies. Each dog had a stocking filled with wonderfully yummy things, and the joy we experienced watching them open those stockings is something Matt and I will always treasure. Christmas morning now finds us in our library, snuggled in our big leather chairs, drinking Coffee with a little Kahlua, as we greet the morning together. The afternoon is then spent at my Mom’s house, with all of my sisters, brothers-in-law, nieces, and nephews, as we share the incredible day of Christ’s birth. This will be our first Christmas without my father, but my family and I will feel his presence--as we do every day--while we cherish our Christmas together.
~Denise (Churchard) Abbe (daughter of Carol & Wally Churchard)
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Reading Julie's blog reminded me of our first Christmas in Phoenix in 1962. We were living with my parents while our new house was being built and Mom and I (with my daughters; Kim & Karen) did some serious Christmas shopping - all of it on one sunny day after another. We usually stopped for lunch at MacDonald's and ate at the tables outside. It was hard to imagine that it was December - no boots, coats, snowsuits, mittens or scarves! That year, and a few times after, we had our extended family Christmas dinner on the patio.
When my girls were young, we had hot chocolate and donuts on Christmas Eve while reading the story of the Nativity. Then they were allowed to open one gift. It was always the same thing, pajamas or a nightgown so they would "look good" in the photos taken on Christmas morning. After opening gifts at home on Christmas day, it was off to the home of whoever was hosting our extended family Christmas dinner and gift exchange. For the most part, our dinner menu stayed the same - turkey with all the usual trimmings, which of course included the inevitable green bean casserole (we still like it). Somehow, this menu was also followed at Thanksgiving and at Easter with ham replacing the turkey.
Our traditions have changed through the years as our families grew larger and the kids grew older. The last few years, my family made a drastic move to a beef tenderloin dinner for Christmas and while my girls take turns hosting dinner for the other holidays, Christmas is always at my house and I love it!
~Carol Churchard
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The Miami Longfields have established some pretty firm traditions. Julie decided before children that Christmas had to be in our house. Anyone is welcome to join us, but we have to be here. With Bob and I both being teachers, it has occasionally taken some fancy footwork to pull that off and still manage a trip to visit the families in Michigan for the holidays. But that is a high priority also. We manage to make it every year. With one or both of us having bands in the Orange Bowl festivities, it’s been even more complicated. The first eggnog of the season arrives in the house the day after Thanksgiving with the Christmas tree. I do a big prime rib on the grill for Christmas dinner, because I can and we eat on the patio, because we can. We still put cookies and eggnog out for Santa (yes, the boys are 17) and Mass is a must at 8am. Snow? DO NOT miss it. I’m dreaming of a colorful Christmas.
~Julie Longfield (wife of Bob Longfield; daughter-in-law of Bob and Esther Longfield)
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