Nov/Dec 2022 (Volume 14, Issue 6)
By Arvid Huisman
While my memory has lost a few files over the years, there are some things I doubt I’ll ever forget. Memories of childhood Christmases, for instance, remain solidly intact. In fact, many of those memories are preserved in minute detail — in technicolor, surround sound stereo and with full olfactory recall.
I like to think of these memories as Christmas snapshots. May I share a few with you?
Some of my earliest Christmas snapshots were made in this big farm house in Kossuth County. This was the home of my paternal grandparents, Opa and Oma Huisman. We observed the holiday at home, too, but the Christmases at Opa and Oma’s house were the highlight of Christmas Day. This snapshot was made in the mid ’50s.
See all those kids? They’re my cousins; there were about a dozen Huisman cousins by this time. That’s Kenny, Loren and me standing by the cookstove in Oma’s kitchen. We wanted to be close to all that good food.
After a big noon meal, we gathered around the Christmas tree and opened gifts. There was always a present from Opa and Oma and another from a cousin, uncle or aunt who had drawn our name earlier in the year.
Then we kids would go outside and play in the snow, sometimes sledding in the pasture west of the barn.
On my mother’s side, the family had grown so large by the mid ’50s we had to celebrate Christmas in a public building, usually on the Sunday before Christmas. This snapshot was made at the Amvet Hall in Wellsburg. Those older folks sitting over there on the right are my grandparents, Opa and Oma Gelder. Both emigrated to the U.S. as children with their impoverished families. They married at a very young age, had 13 babies and never accumulated any wealth yet were incredibly generous with what they had.
We had even more cousins at the Gelder Christmas — more than 20 by the mid-’50s and they were one of the joys of a Gelder Christmas.
This snapshot is from the same era. Do you think the original Bethlehem shepherds wore Indian blankets, too? That shepherd over there — the largest one — that’s me. Our Sunday School staged a big Christmas Eve program each year and everyone got a part, even if only as a walk-on shepherd or an angel in the heavenly host.
This snapshot is from the year I was assigned to give the benediction at the end of the program. A Sunday School teacher provided a lengthy written prayer to memorize and that was a good idea. Dad loved to listen to Southern radio preachers on the radio so without a memorized benediction I probably would have asked the congregation for cash gifts to help cover immediate and overwhelming financial needs at that difficult time of the year.
This next snapshot was made during the Christmas season I was 16. That Santa you see in the photo; that’s me. The town’s Commercial Club hired me to be Santa for the annual Saturday-before-Christmas distribution of bags of candy.
I was supposed to slide into Kamrar in a horse-drawn sleigh, but there wasn’t enough snow so I rolled up to the town hall in a horse-drawn wagon. Once we stopped I began ho-ho-hoing and handing out bags of candy and peanuts.
After a while I noticed my mother with my two little sisters, ages 4 and 6, in the crowd. When Mom lifted the younger of the two up to the wagon I asked in a jolly voice, “Have you been a good little girl?”
Baby sister turned to our mother and exclaimed, “That’s not Santa; that’s Arvid.”
She may have recognized my voice or my flannel shirt and jeans exposed by a far-too-short Santa costume.
Santa is described as a short, round little elf. I’m not short. That was the last time I played Santa.
This next snapshot was made four years later on the Christmas Eve before I left home. I was in college and had a part-time job by now so I was able to buy nicer gifts for my family. I felt good about that. What I appreciate most about this snapshot is that it is a memory of how things were that last year we all lived together — all of us kids putting aside our juvenile bickering for an evening with Mom and Dad, sharing gifts and love.
Many years have passed and over those years I enjoyed making many more Christmas snapshots with my own family as well as with our parents and siblings. Nowadays Julie’s grandkids add so much to Christmas.
As I review more than 70 years of Christmas snapshots I realize my favorites are those which focus not on gifts and traditions but on the love which the holiday generates. And why not? We have Christmas only because God loved the world so much he was willing to give His son for it.
St. Paul wrote, “… These three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.” This Christmas I wish you faith, hope and love.
(Arvid Huisman is a columnist for Iowa History Journal. He is retired after a lengthy career in the newspaper industry and as a development director for the Salvation Army in Central Iowa. To purchase an autographed copy of his latest book, “More Country Roads,” send $16.50 to Huisman Communications, 9602 Bishop Drive, Unit 59, West Des Moines, Iowa 50266.)