Robert Rausch, a website visitor from Monett, Missouri, shares this charming
memory with us:

As a boy, growing up on a farm in the Missouri Ozarks in the 1950's, I was aware we didn't have a lot of money to spare, and about age nine or ten, I began to trap rabbits using homemade wooden traps.  I would generally put 4 rabbits a week on my Mom's dinner table, and these bunnies were much appreciated, as our Pop was having a difficult time during those years.  She would make rabbit-pot-pie out of them with homemade biscuits on top!  Yum!

Rabbit season was always in the cold months, and many a December day, after feeding the cows, moving hay with the tractor or doing my other chores, I would be setting out from the barn right before sunset It would take me about 20 minutes to get over to where my traps were set, along a brushy fencerow on Uncle Albert's farm, across the blacktop from our place.  It'd take another 25 minutes to check all my traps and I would often be walking back across snowy fields through a dusky December gloom, for there were no houses visible along the way. Often a frigid North wind would be pushing at me, as I trudged along across Albert's pastures.  Somewhere near his pond, I would top the final hill right across from our place, and the memory of that scene is forever in my mind.  For in the distance, guiding me home through the cold gloom would be the front windows of our little farm house and the Christmas Lights in the living room window.  Our little farm house didn't have a very modern bathroom or kitchen, and so the windows always steamed up in the winter, and all of December in those days, I'd top that last hill and see the orange, red, green & blue Christmas Lights through those steamed up windows.  Surely this is one of the nicest Christmas Memories I have.

I truly enjoyed the remembrances of other people's Christmases past.  One I personally can never forget is 1958 when, at the height of Mamie Eisenhower pink, my mother decided we needed a pink tree, with pink ornaments and pink lights around the roof edge of the house.  Initially, my father went along with this as they wanted very much to be in the forefront of style.  In retrospect, it amazes me that there were pink Christmas lights available,  but there were and so they went around the house.  What seemed like a good idea to my father paled upon seeing an all-pink Christmas house.  By then the tree was up and all was theoretically, done.  After much fuss, my mother gave in to my dad's late-in-the-game traditionalism, and added Santa heads made of pink painted Styrofoam balls with black crescent felt eyes, red hatpin noses and red and white hats and white beards.  This did break up the all-pink appearance.  I still have but one of those additional Santas and I treasure it.  Years later, my father developed Alzheimer's and his memory of that Eisenhower Christmas was so clear that when we saw magenta-pink lights available at a store, we purchased them and strung them around his roof edge at his senior citizen home to much shared laughter by all in remembrance of the first pink Christmas.

Website visitor Anna Bates shares this picture and memories of her mother with us. Referring to their first aluminum Christmas tree, Anna writes:

"I still remember when Mom brought that thing home in a big cardboard box.  Permanent tree!  When she pulled out that painted silver pole, we laughed so hard we cried.  Later that night we all stood in the living room for the ritual of turning on the color wheel for the first time.  We stood there in amazement watching the tree turn red, yellow --- then when blue came around a hushed "oooooooh" from all of us.  She was so proud of that thing.  In this picture, she is sitting next to her tree, wearing a matching aluminum corsage, strappy sandals, huge rhinestone earrings to accentuate her dyed red hair.  I loved her so much.  And to think I thought all that stuff was tacky when I was a teenager! Her name was Nora Bates, and she died from complications of Alzheimer's disease in April 2003. (This wonderful picture has kindly been restored by Mark Milano.)

My parents told me that the first word I ever said was "light."  As a boy in the 1950's I loved everything about Christmas lights, especially the little pointy ones on our Christmas tree.  In my first memory of them, we were using cloth covered strings with speckled composition sockets that had come from our grandparents.  At that time there wasn't much money for new things, so nearly every ornament and every bulb was handed down from previous generations.  Most of the time we had 4 strings of 8 so our tree had a total of 32 lights.  One year in the early 50's my father replaced the old strings with new green vinyl cords, but all the old bulbs were used.  I recall seeing some rare shades of colors that you couldn't find in the five and dime stores, and there was one figural in the shape of a snow covered house.  Each year I would hope it would light and it did for several Christmases, but one year it burned out and I was sorry to see it go.  Before I was old enough to go to school, my father saw that I loved the lights, so he would have me test them, using a train transformer with a socket attached and throw out the bad ones.  I also would screw in all the bulbs on the tree that I could reach.  Since I obviously had the patience that he didn't with strings that suddenly went dark, he gave me the job of detective.  I'd go through each lamp in the string and find the one that was loose or burned out and take care of it.  I didn't know that 2+2=4, but somehow I knew that eight 15 volt lamps pretty much equaled house current, and I knew was series wiring was.

Occasionally we'd splurge and buy a new ornament for the tree or a 78 or 45 rpm Christmas record, and now and then we'd buy a pack of new GE or Westinghouse C-6 bulbs.  I was happy just to hold the bulbs in my hand.  They were so unlike anything we saw the rest of the year.  For two magical weeks each year our tree was up and I loved the day we put it up much more than Christmas Day itself.  My father would bring a "magic" box into the living room with all the ornaments and lights.  The smell of the fresh tree was wonderful in itself, and then the smell of the strings of lights was something I savored and remembered from year to year.   I couldn't wait to open the box and just gaze inside at all the pretty ornaments, nearly all pre-WWII and some pre WWI.  I knew many were very very old and that were all neatly bundled and the bulbs were in a separate box and everything was lovingly saved from year to year.

It wasn't until the late 1950's that I saw my first bubble lights in a friend's house.  Somehow I got my grandfather to take me to a store and buy a set for me and I was a very excited 10 or 11 year old.  I couldn't wait to take them out of the box and see if the bases matched our other lights, and they did, so I just started unscrewing a few of our other lights and replacing them with bubble lights and it all worked like magic.  Most of the lights were the little pointy C-6 lights, but we had one string's worth of bubble lights usually clipped to the lower, larger branches. 

I still use the same types of lights on my trees, some 50 years later, along with a few of our old family ornaments.  Through garage sales, antique stores, etc. I have been able to get some cloth cords in good condition, and some great figurals, and bubble lights of every variety, but still I enjoy having most of my tree adorned with the wonderful old pointy bulbs of the type we had when I was a kid in the 50's.

I was born in 1958. By the time I really noticed Christmas lights, they were the common smooth cone C9 lamps. I remember a Barber Shop on main street which was the only business with lights. I didn't think to much about it at that time but later I would.

As I got older, I noticed not all C9 lamps were the same.  I saw a mixture of Flame and smooth bulbs. I wondered what the Flame type were as I never saw any in the stores. One day I was digging in a box of some old Christmas Items and found a string of seven lights with flame bulbs.  Wow this is neat.  With no eBay back then, this was a rare find for me.

One day I was told to get a hair cut. I went to the Barber shop and some reason I looked up at the Christmas lights. Now what is this?  These are Round. I had never seen this type before. I asked the Barber if I could have some of the Bulbs for exchange for new ones. He never gave me a answer.  A year or so passed and noticed all the bulbs were gone. It was a real let down as I figured that was the end of those bulbs.

That Christmas, I opened a box that said it was from Santa. In this shoe Box were many MAZDA Round C9 bulbs. I guess the Barber had said something to my Dad and took a ladder and got them for me.  What a surprise!!  My
Dad also found some new Westinghouse S-11 bulbs which I still have.  I will never forget that Christmas Day!!!

The BEST Christmas

Date: Sat. Dec 14, 2002 8:57 pm
Subject: The BEST Christmas

Hi, All

I have just returned from a trip to Bell County, Kentucky, where, along with other members of my church, we had a Christmas dinner and toy giveaway for about 100 families. I'm told that Bell County is one of the poorest counties in the country, and judging from what I saw today, I can certainly believe it. I just have to tell you about a marvelous experience I had, one that certainly brought to me a wonderful example of what Christmas can really be. Please forgive the length of this letter.

Shortly after our little group arrived at the meeting hall, a tiny little boy pushed through a door and walked up to me as I was headed to
the kitchen to help cook. He had obviously been dropped off by someone, and he was more than two hours early. Nothing was yet set up, and we hadn't even started cooking. His little face was dirty, his shoes didn't match, and his clothes had more holes in them than I could count. He calmly and boldly asked me if this was where we were giving away the Christmas presents.

I told his that yes, this was the place, but that he was a little early and we weren't ready yet. "Oh," he said, "that's OK- I can wait." I asked if he was hungry, and while he actually did not say a word, his little eyes told me everything. All I could get out of him was that his name was Wally.

I took him to a washroom to clean him up a bit, wishing for all the world that we had brought clothes with us along with toys. After cleaning off at least two weeks worth of Kentucky red clay from his face and hands, we headed to the kitchen where I gave him a sandwich and a glass of milk, and sat him on a stool next to the stove where I would be in charge of cooking the vegetables for the day's meal. Wally munched happily on his sandwich, swinging his little legs and asking me questions about what I was doing as I cooked. He was bright, intelligent, and wise beyond his years. Every so often he would quietly say "Wow, I can't believe it." I didn?t ask, but assumed he was talking about all of the food he was looking at.

After our group had set up the hall and finished preparing the meal, I took him out of the kitchen and put him in line for the food. He held his little paper plate with great respect, firm and level, so as he passed each server they could easily put the food on his plate. I was in charge of doling out the mashed potatoes and corn, and when he came up to me I gave him extra big portions. "Wow, I just can't believe it," he said as he passed me. I just smiled and gave him a wink.

I was worried about Wally being alone through all of this, as the children were supposed to be accompanied by a family member at our gathering. As he confidently headed out to the dining area, I saw with relief that he was joined by a man who had just come in and seemed to know him. When the man passed me in the serving line a bit later, I asked about the little boy. He told me that he was his uncle, and that his father had to drop Wally off on his way to work. He told me that Wally's mother was home, too sick to come. I was relieved to hear that he would be going home with his uncle, so at least he was being taken care of.

After a meal of ham, vegetables and dessert, the children were helped as they made little craft projects: decorated cookies and ornaments with their names on them. I was helping in the kitchen, and did not see Wally until later when it was time for presents. The kids were called up by age groups, and members of our church took a child one by one and helped them "shop" for their gifts, with each child allowed two toys each.

As my turn came to help a child shop, I was thrilled to see it would be Wally that I would help. "Wow, I just can't believe it," he said as I took his tiny hand and we went to the gift area, where I was looking forward to seeing what he would pick. His eyes were big and round, but he led me past table after table of toys. He paused at a big red fire engine, and then went on. Nothing on them seemed to make him happy. I remained silent as he looked, knowing that he was overwhelmed at seeing so many toys.

After our second tour of the toy tables, and another pause at the fire engine, his face became sad, and he looked up at me. "I can't find it." I knelt down and asked him what he was looking for. "Something for Mom," he said. "I don't think she would really like a toy." My heart practically exploded as I fought to keep my composure. I told little Wally that today was his day, and that he could have anything on any of the tables that he wanted. But he would have none of it. "I want something for Mom," he said again, quietly but firmly.

Thank goodness I suddenly remembered that we had brought bags of gifts for older teenage girls. They were placed along a wall and were not on the tables. I leaned down to little Wally and said "I have an idea." I bought him to the bags. He excitedly peeked into each bag, looking for something for his mother. "What's this?" he asked, pulling out an electric curling iron. I told him what it was, and he put it back in the bag right away. "Mom doesn't have any hair left," he said and moved down to some other bags. He looked and looked. Finally, he found a make up kit. "This is pretty face stuff, right?" he asked. I told him it was, and his face lit up. "Mom will like this." "Can I have it as my present?" I was really having a hard time keeping my composure as I told him that it would most certainly be OK. Before I could say anything else, he looked up at me and once again said "Wow, I can't believe it," and ran back to his uncle.

I wanted to run after him, but there were many other children waiting to go shopping, and I was called right away to help with them. Finally, after things slowed down a bit, I went to his table where he was happily munching on a cookie he had decorated himself. I asked him to come with me, and led him back to the toy tables. By the grace of God the fire engine was still there, and I asked him if he wanted it for himself. "No," he said, "let someone else have it." "It's the best toy here, and I already have a present." I told him that every child he was entitled to two presents, and that if he wanted the fire engine, he should take it. "Really?" he asked. I assured him that it was most certainly all right for him to take it. "Wow, I can't believe it," he said as he ran back to the table and his uncle, fire engine in hand. By this time I had to get myself to the bathroom to regain my composure. I must have cried like a baby for ten minutes.

The rest of the day was a whirlwind, as everyone struggled to make sure all of the kids were taken care of. At the end of the day, I spotted Wally and his uncle getting ready to leave. I told Wally's uncle what a fine boy he was, and the uncle just gave me a sad but knowing smile. The smile told me what I wanted to know-that Wally would be taken care of after his mother died.

As they walked away, Wally turned back to look at me, and then broke away from his uncle, running right to me, stopping just inches away. "I can't believe it," he said again, looking right into my eyes. I knelt down and put my hands on his shoulders. "What do you mean, Wally?" "What can't you believe?" Wally smiled. "I know your secret," he said. "I know that you really are Santa Claus." With that, he turned and ran back to his uncle, headed confidently for an uncertain future, totally unaware of the wonderful gift he had given me.

While I had done little, Wally had shown me that the true Spirit of Christmas was alive and well in his tiny little heart. If anything, Wally was Santa Claus, not me. Everything about this blessed season was embodied in that little boy who was about to lose his mother. I will carry him in my heart forever.  

May Christmas peace keep winter from our hearts.

Bill Nelson

I was born in 1950, and have always loved Christmas.  I realized only in later years that while my family would best be described as "struggling lower middle class" through most of the years I was growing up, my father rarely spared expense for decorations when it came to Christmastime, as he hadn't even when my parents were first married near the end of the Depression.

Each year, our (usually) 5 1/2 foot tree was covered with the 40 lights from the beautiful "Noma" boxes that my dad had purchased for he and my mom's first Christmas together in 1940. That would have represented quite an expense to them at that time (and special thanks to webmaster George for helping me verify the exact year of those lights in an e-mail I sent him some months ago!) My earliest memory would be when I was four, I believe.  My dad had brought the skinny, 6 foot spruce into the living room (this was just before the "Scotch Pine" hit it big), and
just as my mother attached the classic "glass-ball-and-spire" tree topper, my father lost his grip on the tree, and it fell to the floor, breaking the topper.  Dad made a quick trip to Woolworth's, and brought back a tree topper I have never seen anywhere since, including eBay: It was a polished aluminum five pointed star with beveled edges, and it had a hole in the center that exactly fitted a C7 bulb.  There was a serious council of war amongst all seven(!) of us kids every year to decide the "right" color of bulb to put in the center of the star for that year. And no matter what color we decided on, we all agreed throughout that season that it was just the right color for "that" year. One of the very few times we all agreed on anything!

I don't recall why, but when I was 14 (1964) the job of putting the lights on the tree fell to me for the first time.  I had an eye for balance, and my mother, pleased with the results, specified me to do that job from then on until I left home in 1968, an assignment I took great pride in.  I carefully slid each red wooden bead into place, to keep the bulbs as upright as possible, which was impossible, of course.

Today, we have two trees in our home.  Upstairs, is a gorgeous contemporary tree, my wife's ongoing project.  Downstairs in the family room is a natural tree (usually a Frazier Fir) with C7 bulbs and 100% "retro" ornaments on it.  I even have real METAL tinsel, thanks to eBay! The slightly corny, more-than-slightly-gaudy artistic approach to
Christmas of those days - right down to the wrapping paper and Christmas cards - is something that I will cherish as a guilty pleasure until the day I die.  I hope you enjoy reading this reminiscence as much as I enjoyed writing it, and I hope you enjoy  - and appreciate - George's wonderful site as much as I have!

Tony Meloche, Hartford, MI
 

From web site visitor Mark:

My name is Mark. I was born in 1965, and I have been fascinated with Christmas lights as far back as I can recall. I was always aware of bright lights. Neon's were my earliest fancy; I loved them. Later, the kind of Christmas lights I started taking a liking to were the midget sets. I remember my grand father buying me one of those 32 light spinning plaques, you know the ones that with the decapitated Santa or elf heads in the middle? Then one year, when I was about six, he bought a string of 25 General Electric C-7 lights for our Christmas tree. These I remember very well, as they were made by G-E.  

They had those green sockets with the really heavy clip that were the same color as the socket. There is a picture of me on the parlor floor with that string draped all around me, and me smiling as I screwed the bulbs in and out. My older brothers watching over me with a stupid look on their faces (they always had to watch me).

 You see, I was my grand father's little devil. He knew I was fascinated with this stuff. He had an old brass-oscillating fan in the kitchen. You had to give it a kick to get it spinning--that was another one of my favorites. I also loved watching the washing machine go through it's cycles in the basement. I had my own little foot ladder to stand on . He also had a great big window fan made by Vernado. It had six blades that really caught my attention. I was attracted to anything that had a motor or lit up. Most of these objects could also take off an arm or a finger too!

 I was always with him, and he loved everything that I liked. He also bought me a set of one-light candles so I could plug it in and out. I think he did this to annoy my grandmother! I remember him taking me on trolley and Subway rides too. It usually led to us having lunch under the Market-Frankford Elevated in North east Philadelphia at the Horn and Hardart's restaurant under the Frankford terminal.

 That man would buy me anything I wanted. I also remember a very big Woolworth's on Chestnut street here in downtown Philly. I recall that during the Holidays, the window would be ablaze with all kinds of Christmas lights, and as I grew a little older, my fascination began to get stronger. I would take forever to walk to school because during the Holidays I would stop along the way to gaze at our neighbors windows on my way to and from school. I wanted to see the different kinds of lights they had. I am amazed at what I recall!

 I remember that some of our neighbors had enclosed porches, and would display their old aluminum trees with the color wheels out there.  

I started to hang out in the G. C. Murphy's five and dime store too, and I recall every year after Thanksgiving that the shelves in the back of the store were always cleared to make way for the Christmas decorations. 

 At this point in my life, I?m old enough to be given a weekly allowance. I would also save my milk money and go and buy several packs of C-7 twinklers, and I would unscrew the bulbs in my mothers 8 light plastic candelabra in the upstairs bow window, I would then replace them with the twinklers. My mother would pitch a fit. My father would say: ?This is not Broadway!? You know, I would put my ear to those twinkle's-- did you ever hear all 8 lights at once? They sounded like a little music box twinging and twanging away. They make noises as they click on and off.

 I also remember the older Mirostar lighting outfits. Some had the C-6's, and some were larger. They always caught my attention!

 I also loved the gold and silver illuminated glitter bell clusters made by RING-A-LITE. This was the early to mid 70's, and gold, avocado and red satin balls were ?in?, along with little Italian lights. Red and green felt elves (these were actually from the 50's and 60's), were still around in my time too.

 I recall that every Christmas tree had mounds of lights; the more the better! I remember those  flasher sets that flashed in sections, with each section a solid color. They had the flower shaped reflectors. Once, my mother opted to go all gold, and that meant gold satin balls, gold Italian lights, (four hundred lights to be exact), and gold, gold and more gold! She even had some of the original strands of glass mercury beads left over from when her and my dad were married.

 Fast forward to the 1980s. I was about fifteen, liking girls now, and yet still loving Christmas, and being a closet light bulb freak to boot. Every October I would go over to a New Jersey flea market with my father and a good family friend. One time while we were there, my father called out to me. He found what would be my very first set of boxed Noma C-6 Christmas lights! He asked the woman how much, and she said a dollar apiece. He handed them to me and said, ?I remember these!? ?We had ?em on the tree when I was a kid!? That was all she wrote. I would find them here and there. This is of course pre-eBay, in the 80's. I knew I was destined to be a ?bulbaholic.?

 My Aunt Mary and Uncle Lou had a very nice size older row house, with a very nice wooden banister. My uncle would drape fresh pine garland down this nice turned stairwell every year, He was from Naples, Italy, and he would put up the traditional Christmas tree. In addition, he would set up a traditional Italian "Pisebia" which is usually a hand made wooden structure that is then covered with chicken wire and plaster. Then, you would make a model train layout. You would paint and decorate it. One never looked the same as another. They were landscaped to resemble a hill town in Italy. At the top was a manger with Jesus in it. Uncle Lou's was unique, because his had a water pump in it that would send water down the hillside beneath the manger. It was unreal!

 Well, now, back to the banister caper! I always honed in on those big G-E C-9's like bees to honey. I was about five years old, and my dad had taken me over to see my favorite aunt. Aunt Mary was a comical person in every sense of the word. Well that night after my dad and I left, she and uncle Lou were having some coffee. He says to my aunt, ?Hey Mary, the banister looks a little dark huh?? She replied ?Did some of the bulbs burn out Lou??  He went to look.

 Well, I had been very clever! I had unscrewed about seven or eight of the light bulbs, ditched the foil reflectors deep in the garland, and took my stash. Just a few minutes after their discovery, my mother phones my aunt Mary. She said ?Mary, are you missing any Christmas bulbs by any chance?? My aunt almost choked on her coffee! She would laugh like it was no ones business, and when she finally got herself together, she said ?Jackie are you telling me that Marky took the Christmas bulbs?? My mother replied, ?Mary he certainly did not get them from here. His pockets were full!?  My cousin Louis till this day refers to me as "ASBESTOS FINGERS". He still ribs me about how my aunt and uncle could never understand how I never even made as much as whimper when I unscrewed those hot light bulbs!

 Well I am 40 now, and I have a job that lets me utilize my mechanical skills. I am still fascinated with vintage Christmas lighting. I was collecting before it became popular! Thanks for letting me share my childhood with you. Both of my parents are no longer with me, and my Aunt Mary and Uncle Lou have passed as well. My father left to take his place with my mother last September at the age of 77. I am sure they are still shaking there heads at me from above. I know my father surely is.