For two Salina women, these were the best Christmas gifts ever.
A cherished last hug from Mom became one woman's irreplaceable Christmas memory, while a U.S. Army veteran was thankful to make it back from the Pacific at the end of World War II.
Then there was the Salina woman who said her autistic son was her greatest holiday blessing.
For the second year, the Salina Journal asked readers to submit their most treasured Christmas gifts, experiences or memories. All the stories sent to us can be found on the Journal Web site at www.salina.com.
'Roses for Mama'
When my children were young, I would repeatedly play "Roses for Mama" by C.W. McCall. When my youngest daughter was about 4 years old, she looked at me sincerely with big blue eyes and said, "Mom, someday I'm going to buy you a rose."
My daughter presented me with a long, rectangular box the Christmas of her 13th year. Inside was an artificial, long-stem blue rose with a note attached that read, "Mom, when I was little, I promised you a rose." That was 10 years ago.
To this day, I cherish that Christmas gift and proudly display it along with my favorite house plants.
-- Theresa Guillory, Salina
My red convertible
My best Christmas gift was given to me in 1995 by my new husband of 18 months. It was a 1992 red Cutlass convertible. I had always wanted a red convertible and had said that I would be a "little old lady from Pasadena" before I ever got one. I had divorced after 20 years and married a wonderful man (who also had been married 20 years). We had five children to raise! Two were going to college, and all living with us. We had both been left with plenty of debt from our first marriages, but we needed another car.
I knew he was the practical and wise one, so you can imagine my surprise that Christmas Eve when I opened the garage door -- and THERE IT WAS! They had put a huge gold bow on it and parked it sideways in the garage.
Believe it or not, I am still driving that convertible! It has been all over Kansas. I'll never forget the surprise, and every time I get into my "red" car, it reminds me about how one person's unselfishness and devotion brought me so much pleasure -- even today! It is my "baby" and a reminder that making others happy -- especially this time of year -- is so important.
-- Jane Peterson, Salina
Gift of an autistic son
My greatest gift is my son Calahan and his autism. Yes, that's correct, I said autism.
Now I know what you are all thinking: "Why would you ever believe your son's disability is a gift?" It is because he has taught me many life lessons and helped me to understand that life's most difficult challenges are actually blessings in disguise. Calahan has taught me acceptance, understanding, patience, compassion and that what we see on the outside is never an indicator of worth or value. He has taught me that communication is much more than words, and paying attention to what people are not saying is far more indicative of what they are trying to convey.
Calahan's autism has blessed me with experiencing true empathy, as many times I have considered what it must feel like to go through life being different, being misunderstood and having all the knowledge in your head but not being able to truly express it. Being a parent of a child with special needs has made me a better advocate -- I have the ability to be his voice when he is so often silent.
The greatest gift Calahan has blessed me with is love. It is a love that knows no boundaries, a love that heals even the deepest of hurts, a love that comes from deep within my spirit, and a love that is beyond infinity. So when you ask me, "How can autism be a gift?" my response is this: I used to believe that my purpose in life was to guide Calahan through his life, but now I know he is meant to guide me through mine. And that is a gift that continues to give.
-- Katrina L. Podrebarac, Salina
Christmas Eve baby
"We were the Brady Bunch until you came along!"
My younger sister Suzanne would often say (that) to our baby brother. Indeed we were. This sentiment came from the sister who now displays a family picture of the Brady Bunch on the wall of her foyer, where you would expect to see her own family picture. I was the middle girl, the fifth child of seven. My mother said she had her last baby seven times. She was finally right.
Our mother was due to have that last baby around Christmas Day (1973). I was 7 years old. I wanted the doll called Baby Alive for Christmas. So did my 3-year-old sister. She always wanted whatever I did, all the way through high school -- toys, clothes, whatever. I know I should have been flattered, but it made me crazy for many years.
In the end, neither of us got the Baby Alive. Mom did, though. At 9:22 p.m. on Christmas Eve, Ryan was born.
Ryan is the Christmas gift that keeps on giving. His generous and kind spirit is matched only by his dry and cutting wit.
Mom always took great care to ensure Ryan's birthday was not overshadowed by Christmas, creating a separate occasion to celebrate, sometimes even in the summer months. Our parents are gone, but we still continue to celebrate Christmas among the seven of us. We celebrate Ryan's birthday, too -- he will be 36 this year. He continues to be the gift that keeps on giving, starting with the day he was born, when he put us a notch above the Brady Bunch!
-- Kathleen (Ketter) Depperschmidt, Salina
'Take care of yourself'
My best Christmas memory came much later in life, though I had no idea at the time that I would cherish it as one of the best ever. My family spent Christmas 1996 with my parents in their home in Colorado. We enjoyed several days visiting, relaxing and eating great home cooking. On Christmas morning, we exchanged the usual wrapped gifts.
On the morning of our departure, after the car was loaded, we said our goodbyes to my parents. When I pulled back from my mother's embrace, she looked me straight in the eyes and then caressed my face. With one of her hands on each of my cheeks, she said, "Take care of yourself. Love you Sue." Those words weren't new. Mom had said them before, but the look in her eyes and the touch of her hands made this goodbye feel a little different.
That was the last time I would see my mother -- less than two months later, she died unexpectedly at the young age of 68. That memory continues to be a gift to me, one I wish I could take back to customer service and exchange for the physical presence of my mom. But since I can't do that, I choose to cherish it as a gift, my last memory of her. I take comfort and joy in knowing that her warm hands and caring eyes came wrapped in unconditional love, which she chose to give to me on that cold December morning.
-- Sue Cline, Salina
The Barbie Dream House
I grew up the daughter of a minister. My father, although very highly thought of in the town, was by no means in the highest paid profession. We did not always have extra money for fancy Christmas presents, so when my sister and I saw the commercial for the Barbie Dream House, I was reluctant to ask for such an expensive item.
I sheepishly asked my dad for the Dream House, using the idea that my sister and I could share such a luxury item. Dad only smiled and stated that he was not in charge of presents, Santa was. This was always his answer, and coming from a minister, quite a departure from what I heard in his sermons.
Well, Christmas morning arrived and my sister and I flew down the stairs to see what was under the tree. There, sitting on the floor, was not one but two Barbie Dream Houses. I could hardly contain myself. But wait, also under the tree, way in the back, were two more gifts. My sister and I hurriedly opened them and there, much to our surprise, were two brand new Francie Barbie dolls. This was Barbie's little teenaged cousin, and she had just come out during the Christmas season. We were stunned!
We turned to dad and threw our arms around his neck and thanked him over and over again. Dad just looked at us and said, "Well, I don't know what you are thanking me for, thank Santa."
I still have that Dream House tucked in the back of my closet. It is broken and falling apart, but it represents to me the generosity of a father who sacrificed for his children. I will never forget that Christmas.
-- Susan Tucker, Salina
Home Alive in '45'
My best Christmas present ever was to be "Home Alive in '45!"
I left home in August 1942 for (U.S. Army) basic training at Fort Leonard Wood in Missouri, then to California to train for desert warfare. A short stop was made in San Luis Obispo, Calif., from there to Honolulu, then Port Marsby, New Guinea. Most of my tour duty was spent in the Philippines, serving in the 53rd Field Artillery Battalion, fighting off the Japanese invaders.
So you see, I was really glad to be home just before Christmas 1945.
-- Roscoe Matteson, Phillipsburg
'Sure, the ole beast'
"A pickup?" I questioned. "Why? For what?"
When your daughter and son are in middle school, you live your life knowing there will be many little surprises along the way. But when Heather and Jeff asked me if I could borrow a pickup truck that weekend before Christmas, I'll have to admit it was a most unusual request.
I called a friend and he said, "Sure, the ole 'beast' runs good, but the heater doesn't work." It was almost like riding in a sleigh guided by the full moon that night. We sang Christmas songs on the way to Topeka at the top of our lungs -- partly to keep us warm, but mostly because the joy and excitement of Christmas was in the air.
What an unbelievable surprise! Heather and Jeff had arranged to buy the mini-grand piano harpsichord that I had often admired in my friends' home. I have loved that gift for years. The harpsichord's tone is somewhat shrill when I play it, but that sacrificial gift of love has played a sweet melody in my heart for many years.
-- Kathleen Robbins, Salina
Best, worst of gifts
My best Christmas gift was also my worst Christmas gift.
Twenty-two years ago, on Christmas Eve morning, our rural family home burned. My husband and I were milking in our dairy barn. We were wondering why the electricity in the barn was flickering, while our three children (ages 11, 10 and 6) were in the house taking steps to save their lives. Realizing that the house was on fire on the lower level and there was no other way out of the house, they jumped from their upstairs bedroom window onto the covers from their beds that they tossed out the window.
By evening of this stressful day, our family, friends and neighbors had found a home nearby and totally furnished it. That December, we experienced the true meaning of Christmas. So many people gave much to help us, just as God sent his only Son for all humankind. Our children were spared when our house and all our belongings were lost. It was a Christmas that was unforgettable.
-- Emilie Wacker, Vesper
Made with love
The Christmas I remember most was when I was 8 years old. I lived on a farm with my father, mother and three brothers. Our big barn burned down in September, losing lots of hay and grain. (My parents) built a new barn and said, "Due to all of the extra expenses, our Christmas will be much smaller this year."
When Christmas time came, we cut down a big cedar tree from the farm and decorated it with strings of popcorn, cranberries and paper chains that we had colored red and green. We had no lights, as we had no electricity, but we thought it was beautiful.
When Christmas Eve came, we hung up our stockings and went to bed. When we arose Christmas morning, we could not believe our eyes. There stood a beautiful coaster wagon for my two older brothers, a little wheelbarrow for my little brother, and a little table with a beautiful white tablecloth with pretty blue flowers embroidered all around (for me). All the gifts were made from the lumber and paint leftover from building the new barn. Everything was made by my parents with so much love in their hearts for us.
-- Marguerite Egner, Salina
I blame Aunt Marilyn
The best Christmas gift I ever received was when I was 3 or 4 years old. My aunt Marilyn gave my two sisters and me little brown suede purses. The purses had a flap opening with fringe and fringe on the bottom. (Aunt Marilyn) told my mom that she needed to buy something else for us because the purses were not very expensive, and she didn't think that would be enough. My mom told her that it was what we wanted, and that it didn't matter how much money you spend. I was so excited when I opened that present, and there was my first real handbag. I now blame my aunt Marilyn for my obsession with handbags. You can never have too many is my thinking. I will be forever grateful to her.
-- Sharon Long, Salina
The wedding bands
After being married for some time, my husband and I had mentioned we would like to get new wide gold wedding bands. So that year, I went to Phil Rose and Son Jewelers and put a set on layaway so my husband wouldn't know and really be surprised.
On Christmas day, I opened my present from my husband and to my surprise, there was the same wide gold wedding bands I'd bought for him. We had a good laugh because we both pulled off the best surprise!
Mr. Rose said it was the hardest thing he had to do, trying to keep a straight face when we both came in and paid on the rings. Fortunately, he did take back the extra set of rings.
-- Carolyn Metzgar, Smolan
Early case of recycling
I am a 92-year-old woman. I have observed many Christmas celebrations. However, one which remains foremost in my memory is one Christmas in the late 1920s. In October, my family was traveling in an open touring car when we were caught in a blizzard on the prairie. We found refuge for the night with a farm family. In the morning, we found my one and only doll in the car completely soaked. Her wig was loose and matted, her cloth body stained and one arm lost. I was devastated. It was during the Great Depression and my father, a county superintendent of schools, was on a very small salary and could not afford a new doll.
Christmas came and lo-and-behold I received a doll! As a small girl would do, I undressed her and found that my mother had mended and cleaned up my old doll -- put on a new wig, replaced the lost arm and made new clothes, I believe out of flour sacks. It was my old doll, and she could still say "Mama." Needless to say, I was delighted.
This was an early case of recycling.
-- Violet Beims, Atwood
Built in the attic
When I was 6 years old, it was in the 1930s and very hard times. We lived on a farm, so income was not good. So to make a good Christmas for my sister, who was 18 months younger than myself, my mother decided to build us a small table and two chairs. To keep us girls from knowing, she built it in the attic.
Then on Christmas Eve, our dad said we had a newborn calf in the barn he wanted us to see. When we came back to the house, there was the nicest little table with two chairs painted green, and two beautiful dolls sitting in the chairs. There also was a set of little dishes on the table. I think the most impressive thing was all the trips my mother made into the attic to make the table and chairs, all with love for us.
-- Aldean Franklin, Kensington
Merry Christmas Grandma
It was 1997 and my daughter, with three small children ages 3, 1 and 2 months, had no money for Christmas but gave me a gift that cost very little money and gives me pleasure each Christmas.
She traced the children's hands on paper, cut them out, colored them, wrote their names on the hands and tied all three together with a piece of ribbon. She then wrote the date and put "Merry" on the first (hand), "Christmas" on the second and "Grandma" on the third.
Each year it has a place on my Christmas tree. It proves you don't need money to create a keepsake and lasting memory.
-- Nancy Gruber, Bennington
Most fashionable dolls
I grew up on the windswept prairies of North Dakota. There was a houseful with two parents, five brothers, two sisters and myself. We were poor (by) today's standards. Mom trimmed money from the family budget for weeks to make Christmas special.
Oh of course there were gifts under the tree. With that many people in the house, there were bound to be a lot of gifts. But it's not the wrapped packages with all the ribbons and bows that I recall. It's the stockings that hung in a row, filled with fruits, nuts and candy, and then topped with something special for each one of us.
My stocking topper for numerous years had been old-fashioned doll clothes made from mom's stash of remnants. I had the most fashionable dolls ever -- bell bottom pants, fancy dresses and a faux fur coat. One year, my doll received undergarments -- bra, panties and a slip. I wonder where that fabric came from?
It took a lot of creativity on mom's part to pull that off each year. I hope I can instill in my children that some of the most simple gifts are the most memorable. Thanks, Mom.
-- Monica Hartsel, Concordia
Death, divorce, now this
At 5 a.m. on a cold Christmas morning in 1979, I sat in my car on the side of the road in the dark with the only sound the ticking of a hot engine rapidly cooling off. I could see the lights of Sharon Springs in the distance. The left front tire had come off when a wheel bearing gave out, and I had managed to get the car on the shoulder. There were several houses nearby, but no lights showing. I waited until sunrise, hoping someone would come by, but there was no traffic.
It was my first Christmas alone. My daughter had been killed in a car wreck on her 18th birthday on Dec. 6, the year before. My divorce had been final last year after 20 years of marriage, and my son had left for college several years ago. I had intended spending Christmas at home, but my father had been admitted to the hospital on Christmas Eve, and I made a last-minute decision to go to Albuquerque to be with him on Christmas Day. I was feeling lonely and depressed this Christmas even without having car trouble so far from home.
With the sun up, I walked to the houses I could see, but no one was at home. I started walking the three miles to town. A good Samaritan coming from town met me and (took) me back to Sharon Springs. All the businesses were closed, but the restaurant owners were serving breakfast to their friends and customers, as was their custom on Christmas morning. They called and talked a wrecker into going out and hauling my car in. I was going to stay at the motel there, but one family insisted I go home with them because I shouldn't have to spend Christmas Day in a motel. They treated me like one of the family, including me in their family dinner and celebration. They fixed up a room for me to stay for the night.
The next morning, some of the men worked on the car. They got the part needed and had the wheel fixed. I tried to pay them, but they refused to accept any money.
I will never forget the wonderful, friendly people of Sharon Springs at one of the lowest points of my life. They gave me the finest gifts one person can give another -- their time, caring and understanding.
-- Vesta Hobbs, Norton
Life: The greatest gift
My most memorable Christmas was 1961, when I was four months pregnant with our first child. What union I felt with that first Christmas! What union I felt with Mary, the Mother of Life. It made the celebration of Christmas so real and special. It was my first Christmas in Kansas after 24 in Minnesota.
All our children were born in the spring, so four more times -- Christmas of 1963, 1966, 1969 and 1971 -- I experienced that special memorable union with the real meaning of Christmas: Life, the greatest gift of all.
