{"id":788,"date":"2011-12-22T17:05:24","date_gmt":"2011-12-23T01:05:24","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.dianastevan.com\/?p=788"},"modified":"2018-07-25T14:39:26","modified_gmt":"2018-07-25T21:39:26","slug":"making-magical-memories-at-christmas","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.dianastevan.com\/uk\/2011\/uncategorized\/making-magical-memories-at-christmas\/","title":{"rendered":"Making Magical Memories at Christmas"},"content":{"rendered":"

I\u2019m feeling particularly nostalgic this time of year, as my mother passed away at the end of October. She left behind a lot of magical memories, hers and mine, that I draw on for my writing.<\/p>\n

\"\"

Christmas Story at Church of the Holy Trinity, Toronto<\/p><\/div>\n

When I was a child, on Ukrainian Christmas Eve<\/a> (Jan.6th<\/sup> on the Julian calendar), I wouldn\u2019t eat all day, as was our family\u2019s custom, until the first star came out. We knew then that Christ had arrived, and we could celebrate with a feast of twelve meatless dishes. Later, carollers would come from the church and sing at our home. Afterwards, we\u2019d give them a shot of whiskey and some food to keep them warm as they carried on with their carolling to other homes in cold Winnipeg.<\/p>\n

But one of my favourite memories has to do with Santa.\"\"<\/a> It was 1948, and I was five at the time. It was Christmas Eve and I had my nose pressed against the window pane looking out at the snow covered streets and waiting for my father to come home with a tree. When he came home without one\u2014as he\u2019d stopped off at the beer parlour after work for a few drinks\u2014my mother sent him back out again. It turned out that all the Christmas tree lots had closed by then. Ashamed that his daughter wouldn\u2019t have a tree, he did something completely out of character. He jumped over the fence and stole one. A policeman happened to be walking by and my father had to do some quick explaining. He told the officer he had every intention of returning to pay when the lot was open again. I assume the cop recognized an honest face and let my father go. That night, my mother and I stayed up until 4 a.m. decorating that tree. Mom had saved silver cigarette wrappers she\u2019d found in the street gutters and we used them to wrap nuts to hang on the tree. We also hung little pink plastic baskets filled with multi-coloured Christmas candies and some glass ornaments. Mom also made snow out of Ivory soap crystals that we spread on the branches. The final touches were tinsel and for the top, a foil covered cardboard star. Although I was tired by the end, I decided to keep my eyes open so I could get a glimpse of Santa. But try as I might, my eyelids wouldn\u2019t cooperate and I missed that fine, generous gentleman.<\/p>\n

I\u2019ve never forgotten that Christmas. I don\u2019t remember the presents, but I remember that night. It was magical.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>Not to forget, somewhere in all that Christmas rush out there is another child\u2019s wide eyes, excited by what\u2019s coming. Christ and Santa rival one another for attention, but what would Christmas be without these larger than life figures, each promising love, each asking us to believe?<\/p>\n

It\u2019s the time of year when families everywhere can build precious memories. It could be decorating sugar cookies, watching It’s A Wonderful Life<\/a><\/em>, or singing Christmas carols.<\/p>\n

Our magical moments include: singing carols together, ending with a soulful Silent Night on Christmas Eve, emptying our stockings in the morning, and later, watching Scrooge<\/a> with Albert Finney, after a hearty turkey dinner with all the fixings. What are your traditions? What memories come up for you at this time of year?<\/p>\n

Whether you celebrate Christmas or Hanukkah, I\u2019m wishing you\u00a0 and your families magical moments, ones that will last a lifetime.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I\u2019m feeling particularly nostalgic this time of year, as my mother passed away at the end of October. She left behind a lot of magical memories, hers and mine, that… <\/p>","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_feature_clip_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2},"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false},"categories":[88,1,4],"tags":[237,236,78,234,235,238,239,5],"class_list":["post-788","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-life","category-uncategorized","category-writing","tag-christ","tag-christmas","tag-diana-stevan","tag-magical-moments","tag-memories","tag-santa","tag-ukrainian-christmas-eve","tag-writing-2"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p1LuVB-cI","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"jetpack-related-posts":[{"id":3819,"url":"https:\/\/www.dianastevan.com\/uk\/2018\/writing\/long-lens-at-ukrainian-christmas\/","url_meta":{"origin":788,"position":0},"title":"A Long Lens at Ukrainian Christmas","author":"Diana Stevan","date":"13 \u0413\u0440\u0443\u0434\u043d\u044f, 2018","format":false,"excerpt":"Our Christmas Tree I\u2019ve always loved this time of year,\u00a0 a time to celebrate and once more, revel in the traditions of \"English\" and \"Ukrainian\" Christmas. Even though my faith has been challenged, I still regard this as a spiritual time. A time for reflection, for slowing down, for putting\u2026","rel":"","context":"\u0423 "Writing"","block_context":{"text":"Writing","link":"https:\/\/www.dianastevan.com\/uk\/category\/writing\/"},"img":{"alt_text":"Ukrainian Christmas","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.dianastevan.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/12\/IMG_1733.jpg?resize=350%2C200&ssl=1","width":350,"height":200,"srcset":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.dianastevan.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/12\/IMG_1733.jpg?resize=350%2C200&ssl=1 1x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.dianastevan.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/12\/IMG_1733.jpg?resize=525%2C300&ssl=1 1.5x"},"classes":[]},{"id":2967,"url":"https:\/\/www.dianastevan.com\/uk\/2016\/uncategorized\/memories-of-christmases-past\/","url_meta":{"origin":788,"position":1},"title":"Memories of Christmases Past","author":"Diana Stevan","date":"15 \u0413\u0440\u0443\u0434\u043d\u044f, 2016","format":false,"excerpt":"A Little Nostalgia I'm feeling nostalgic. Memories of Christmases past are flooding back. My mother gave me the most memorable one when I was five. I first posted a version of this story in 2011. Here it is again, this time revised. A Christmas Tree That Almost Wasn't It was\u2026","rel":"","context":"\u0423 "Life"","block_context":{"text":"Life","link":"https:\/\/www.dianastevan.com\/uk\/category\/life\/"},"img":{"alt_text":"memories of christmases past","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.dianastevan.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2011\/12\/P1020986.jpg?fit=811%2C1200&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200,"srcset":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.dianastevan.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2011\/12\/P1020986.jpg?fit=811%2C1200&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200 1x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.dianastevan.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2011\/12\/P1020986.jpg?fit=811%2C1200&ssl=1&resize=525%2C300 1.5x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/www.dianastevan.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2011\/12\/P1020986.jpg?fit=811%2C1200&ssl=1&resize=700%2C400 2x"},"classes":[]},{"id":4628,"url":"https:\/\/www.dianastevan.com\/uk\/2019\/uncategorized\/counting-my-blessings-writing-and-otherwise\/","url_meta":{"origin":788,"position":2},"title":"Counting my Blessings, Writing and Otherwise","author":"Diana Stevan","date":"14 \u0413\u0440\u0443\u0434\u043d\u044f, 2019","format":false,"excerpt":"Only ten days before Christmas and I'm counting my blessings. 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