Though I’ve not yet taken my 70th trip around the sun (that celebration comes next April), I’m about to celebrate my 70th Christmas on this planet. The first few I don’t really remember, and I have memories of many, but can’t really pinpoint the year when some of the events I remember occurred, but I’ve been blessed with so many great memories of Christmases past.

One year, I remember seeing a long triangular box for me under the tree. My excitement built to a fever pitch, as I strained to guess what it might be. Just before opening it, my brother Lou said it looked like a new snow shovel, and I was deflated for a moment, as I really didn’t want to open it in case he was right. I remember slowly opening it to find a guitar, which brought me back even higher than I was while anxiously wondering what it could be. Some may think my brother was being mean, but on the contrary, he actually made the thrill even greater when I saw it wasn’t a snow shovel. Unfortunately, I never mastered playing the instrument, though I was able to learn to play a couple songs by notes, but never got the hang of mastering chords. Still, a great Christmas memory.

Another Christmas, I remember Dad getting a new transistor radio from Mom. It wasn’t a pocket radio, but one that he could set on a table, and had a handle that made it easy to carry from room to room while listening to it. Dad was able to find the Cleveland Radio Station that carried the Cleveland Indians (they were the Indians then), and the best place to listen to games with the best reception was a small cabinet in our kitchen next to the stove, so Dad, and often times, Lou and I, would go in the kitchen with Dad and listen to games through some static.

After Dad passed in 1994, Mom asked if there were a couple things of Dad’s each of us might have wanted, and one of the items I chose was that radio. I took it home, turned it on, and it was still set to WWWE 1100 (now WTAM 1100), in Cleveland, and the batteries were still good. I have still not changed those batteries, and even though I have satellite radio and can get games clear as a bell, I sometimes take that radio out on the front porch, or back deck, turn it on, still tuned to WTAM 1100, and listen to a game through some static as if Dad were there with me listening to The Tribe, now The Guard.

Another Christmas memory of mine was in 1977, my first year with my own classroom, and I threw a Christmas Decorating Party for my students at my apartment. I got it okayed by my principal, I got parents’ permission and gave the parents the option of staying, which some took me up on. Today, that would be strictly out of the question.

Not married then, I wanted company decorating my apartment. I went out and bought some wooden ornaments that needed to be painted, and when students arrived, I let them paint the ornaments and decorate my tree. My mom made cookies, and I made hot chocolate, played Christmas music, and we had a great time. I had 29 fourth graders in my class that year, and about half were able to make it.

That same year, during some of our get-to-know-each-other sessions, one of the boys asked me what kind of cologne I wore. Thinking, at the time, the question was a little odd, I deduced on the last day of school before Christmas Break, he was asking for the entire class when I opened presents from students and found 18 bottles of Faberge Brut Cologne among the presents I got that first year in my own classroom.

One last Christmas Past memory for this narrative occurred when Sally and I went to our daughter Chasity’s to spend Christmas in Portland, Tenn., Sally and I stayed in a Franklin, Ky., hotel, about 20 minutes from Chasy’s home. On Christmas Eve, we attended Mass at a tiny church in Franklin. It was a poorer parish and parishioners who attended were about 50-50 Spanish/English speaking. The priest in the parish was bilingual and did the first third of the service in English, then went back and did it again in Spanish. He did that again with the second third of the Mass, the homily, and then conclusion. Throughout the service, children acted out the Christmas story without speaking at all. It was one of the best Christmas services Sally and I have been a part of in our entire married life.

These are only five of the countless memories I have from wonderful Christmases past experienced in my life. Granted, as I’ve aged, some Christmases have become more tense, some more hectic, and some sad because I’d like my whole family to be at our home. That doesn’t dampen my joy for Christmas or my appreciation to the Ghosts of my Christmas Past. I’ve had so many wonderful Christmases, and thank everyone who’ve been a part of any of them.