Christmas Stories Throughout The Years | Stockings, Music, and the Traditions That Stayed With Me

One of my favorite Christmas traditions growing up was how our family did stockings. (Hanging on the wall behind mom & I playing with my new walkie talkies). Santa always filled the kids’ stockings. For the adults, we rotated between two traditions every other year. One year we drew names. The next year, everyone bought one gift for everyone’s stocking.

The stockings were laid out on a bed in another room. One by one, people went in to quietly fill them. Every gift was wrapped so no one could recognize who had done which stocking by the wrapping paper. It was thoughtful, fun and made the whole process feel special.

Another memory that comes to mind often during the holidays is the music. We had an organ and a piano in our living room. My grandma and my mom both played. They were church organists and I have wonderful memories of when they played together.

They would play Christmas carols while those of us who sang gathered around and joined in. Looking back now, I realize what a gift those moments were. One of my regrets is not letting my mom teach me how to play piano.

When Dave and I became parents, we started some traditions of our own and carried others from my family forward. Playing games together, driving around with hot cocoa to look at Christmas lights, and always letting the kids open stockings first.

Even during the lean years, Christmas was magical. Dave and I didn’t exchange gifts so we could make it special for our kids. He once gave me a paperback book I really wanted, and I still think of those as our paperback years.

Now, as a grandma, I find myself wishing I had my grandmother’s and mother’s Christmas notebooks. Their lists. Their plans. All the little details that made my childhood holidays feel so magical. I believe that’s another reason I’m an obsessed memory keeper. I want to know the stories behind the photo.

That longing is part of why I started saving these stories. Memories matter. And telling them feels like a way to hold onto the pieces that shaped us.

This wraps up this part of my Christmas stories from the 1970s.