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Pipka's Christmas Story

My First Christmas



The first Christmas that I remember was in 1950 when I was 6 years old. I say it is my "first" Christmas because we had just come to America on a ship from Germany. There weren't many Christmas celebrations prior to that as my parents had their hands full just keeping my brother, Frank, and I safe and fed in war torn Europe. When we arrived in Michigan, North Dakota in 1949, the towns people opened their arms and hearts to our little family. My father was a physician and they were in desperate need of a doctor. We were given a big old Victorian house to live in. It had gables and seven bedrooms upstairs for "getting lost in".. .our favorite play. I loved the house and the town. My parents thought Michigan, North Dakota was paradise...clean, friendly, and safe.

Our Victorian house had a big parlor with heavy oak doors. On Christmas Eve day the oak doors were firmly shut with strict instructions that we were not to go near them or peek. Usually on this day we would be sent outdoors to play. Skating was our passion and all the towns children met at the skating rink. We spent many happy cold hours making figure eights, racing, and daring each other to stick our tongues on icy lamp poles while we waited for Christmas to arrive.

After we exhausted ourselves at the skating pond, we walked back home where Mother had a warm bath waiting for us. After scrubbing and splashing, we were required to lie down for a short "nap." It was difficult because we were so excited-but lie down we did, our ears straining for any sounds of angels flying by...for our German custom told us that the Christ Child and his Angel helpers would bring the tree and gifts on Christmas Eve. After what seemed like hours, my brother and I were allowed to get up and dress in our Christmas Eve finery. We always had something new to wear on Christmas Eve and this helped symbolize the specialness of the occasion.

As we tip-toed down our winding stairs, we saw a little feather floating in the air and sparkling angel dust on the step...the Angels were surely here! The parlor doors were still closed tight.

Mother had a beautiful Christmas dinner prepared for us, the table glowing with crystal and candles. Dinner consisted of roast goose, cabbage, potatoes...true German fare. Frank and I could hardly eat because our eyes kept straying to the parlor doors. Our appetite did not return until later. After dinner it was Frank's and my duty to clear the table and put the dishes away. This gave my parents time to finalize the event behind the doors. After clean-up we all walked into the living room, toward the parlor doors.

Suddenly by some magical force, the parlor doors flew open...and there stood the most beautiful Christmas tree we ever saw blazing with a hundred little white candles...we gasped in wonder.

Under the tree were our presents, but I don't remember what they were. I only remember the glorious tree that the Christ Child and Angels brought. It was decorated with gingerbread cookies and glass ornaments...it sparkled and smelled so fragrant...a sight and smell no child will ever forget.

The other thing that stands out clearly that Christmas is the memory of my mother and father standing in front of the fireplace, obviously very pleased at the surprise they accomplished for their children. They embraced and gave each other a loving Christmas kiss. Although they were to divorce later, that night my parents were happy, our family intact, and we were all caught up in the warmth and love of Christmas. My first Christmas was a night of perfection. It will live in my memory forever.

© Pipka Ulvilden - All Rights Reserved

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