Tabla de contenidos para November/December 2025 en Good Old Days

In 1969, willingly on my part, Uncle Sam had taken control of my whereabouts and sent me away from my comfort zone to the southern tip of a foreign island—to Guantanamo Bay Naval Air Station in Cuba. It was on a warm winter’s day a few months later that fellow Navy shipmates Mike, Mark, Tom and I squeezed into one of the Navy’s gray pickups for a quick trip to the Navy Exchange store. As we pulled into the usually quiet parking lot, we soon realized that it was busier than normal. After finding a parking spot, we made our way through the hustling crowd to see what the commotion was all about. Wives and children of commissioned officers and enlisted personnel gathered around a shipment of Christmas trees that…

One of my favorite movies, A Christmas Story, is set in the fictitious town of Hohman, Ind., patterned after Hammond, Ind., the town I grew up in. Ralphie’s quest for a Red Ryder BB gun seems hopeless-everyone tells him, “You’ll shoot your eye out!”-until his dad comes through on Christmas morning. Watching that flick always takes me back to Christmas 1957, the year my older brother, Ronnie, got his wish, and I got a gift I didn’t deserve. I was a typical 8-year-old looking forward to a bounty of Christmas presents, and Ronnie, age 15, yearned for only one thing that year: the Daisy Red Ryder BB Repeater Rifle with Lever Action. Mom worked at Sears, and every year she’d bring home the coveted Sears Christmas Catalog—the Wish Book, as…

Wired for Christmas It was two days before Christmas 1946. Times were lean for us in Overland, Mo., the working-class suburb of St. Louis where we lived. My father, A.J. Atchison, had been laid off from his job, so money was tight. Dad brought home a 5-foot fir tree that looked, to my 8-year-old eyes, like the most bedraggled excuse for a tree I’d ever seen. Mother looked at it hard and then looked away. Dad’s eyes, usually so smiling, were downcast. “It’s what I could afford,” he said. “They let me have it for a quarter.” Dad took the tree away without comment. I went upstairs to read a book and shut away the pain. Supper at our kitchen table was a sad affair. After supper, Dad called to…

“Hurry up, Bet,” my sister Tot was urging, “I want to see the turkeys!” I hurriedly dried the last of the plates and stacked them in the cabinet and soon was ready to hit the road. It was the late 1940s. I was 7, and Tot was 9. It was spring in our valley in the foothills of the Smoky Mountains. Our Aunt Vina had ordered some turkey chicks from Sears, Roebuck & Co., a company that sold everything from baby diapers to prefab homes from their huge catalog. And they had just been delivered according to the grapevine, and we couldn’t wait to see them. Her plan was to make a little extra money with the birds since her husband was a traveling preacher with a lower income than…

GOOD OLD DAYS SPOTLIGHT Add a touch of handmade festive joy to your holiday decor with the North Pole Cheer Wood Painting Craft Kit from Annie’s Attic. Designed for all skill levels, this kit offers an engaging, easy-to-follow crafting experience. It’s perfect for older adults looking for a relaxing, creative activity for the season. Inside, you’ll find everything you need: wooden blocks, a small wooden box, chalk paint in classic Christmas hues, a paintbrush, sandpaper, pompoms, ribbon, a rub-on sheet and a craft stick. Step-by-step instructions guide users through assembling a “snowball” box, painting blocks to spell “JOLLY,” and embellishing mini gift props—no guesswork required. This kit provides a satisfying sense of accomplishment without overtaxing the fingers or energy. It’s ideal for seniors interested in crafting their own seasonal decor,…

When I was about 10 or so, I really wanted a toy Coca-Cola delivery truck. It was yellow, quite large, and had a loading area where the sides would lift. Inside were miniature cases of Coca-Cola bottles that you could load and unload. That was it. Just a yellow truck with Coca-Cola written on the side, lifting doors in the cargo area, and miniature cases of Coke bottles, but boy, I really wanted that truck. On Christmas morning, our tradition was to give one present to each person in order. One at a time, each person would open a gift, and we’d all ooh and aah about it, and then go to the next person. Well, this agonizing waiting was driving me nuts because with each present I opened, there…

Celebrating V-J Day Like Lee Zahalka in the August 2025 issue of Good Old Days, I remember as a child the announcement of the Japanese surrender that ended World War II. Factories blew their steam whistles, businesses sounded gongs, and churches rang bells. People tied tin cans to their cars and drove joyously around town. Since gasoline rationing would end that day, people could now joyride again, and because people no longer had to save cans for the war effort, they could drag cans to celebrate. Not to be outdone, I joined the celebration by tying a can to my tricycle and riding up and down our street. Dean Varner Cedar Rapids, Iowa Andy and Donny Make Christmas Special I enjoyed the article Christmas With Andy Williams in the December 2024…

Nobody chomped into a turkey drumstick with more gusto than my father. With turkey grease dripping off his chin, he looked like Fred Flintstone chomping those giant pterodactyl legs. Thanksgiving was a favorite holiday for our family with our focus on the bird. We had turkey only twice a year—Thanksgiving and Christmas. I was 11 years old and normally a picky eater. Yet, in November 1961, I longed for slices of turkey breast with celery dressing and canned cranberry sauce. For Daddy, his favorite was meaty drumsticks glistening with deliciousness that he craved to gobble up. His boyhood chum, Roger Powell, owned a turkey farm in Bay Village, 70 miles from where we lived in Fremont, Ohio. When we went to visit, I liked seeing the turkeys up close and…

Christmas 1969 in Austin, Texas, population approximately 244,000, was a big deal in the Morgan household. The air was thick with the smell of my mom’s special orange-cinnamon rolls, and the kitchen buzzed with the sounds of Nat King Cole’s The Christmas Song album playing on the nearby Magnavox mahogany console record player—our family’s latest new obsession. Maybe I’d be the first kid to keep a strict schedule of recess, snack time and cartoons. But for me, 6-year-old Lance, it was the tree that stole the show and captured my heart. It wasn’t just any tree, mind you; this was the towering aluminum tree of the future, the kind that looked like it might double as a rocket antenna if you pointed it at just the right angle. This tree…

Crowded around the kitchen table, my siblings and I tussled for first peeks into the pages of the new 1967 issue of the Sears Christmas Wish Book catalog. It took forever for my brothers to finish savoring pictures of toys they’d only dreamed of. In mid-December, Mom called a family meeting. All five of us children filed in. “Have you all finished your Christmas lists?” Five heads bobbed. “Good. Your father and I have an errand to run, and we’ll mail them to Santa while we’re out. Mrs. Hammond will babysit.” After my parents had been out for a while, Mrs. Hammond made this announcement. “Your parents phoned. They want you in your bedrooms with the doors closed. And don’t come out until you’re told.” Nervous, I looked to my…

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Our family had enjoyed giving Christmas gifts secretly in earlier years, so we looked forward to doing it once again in the mid-1960s. Each year we chose individuals or a family who probably would receive little or nothing for Christmas. Because we lived in Sandborn, Ind., a town with a population of approximately 400 people where news got around about people having needs, it wasn’t hard to find someone who needed some Christmas cheer. That year, we chose a single mother with three young children. One of the children was in my son’s class at school. We had fun choosing presents for all the family members. We couldn’t give expensive gifts, but we looked for things each member would enjoy. I baked cookies and made candy. The assortment included typical…

Holiday traditions create feelings of nostalgia in all of us, young and old. Twinkling lights on a Christmas tree, the smell of baked goods floating through the air, and freshly fallen powdery snow all evoke warm feelings of tradition, family and love during the holiday season. Sharing those holiday memories and keeping holiday traditions alive are part of the joy and magic of the season. A family holiday tradition I cherish is one my maternal grandmother began decades ago, and partaking in it is one of the fondest memories I have of the holiday season. Our tradition typically began just before Thanksgiving. November’s blustery winds arrived, weaving frost spiderwebs onto Mother’s kitchen window and sparking her predictable response. “Oh, my!” she said, staring at the intricate designs. “It’s fruitcake weather!”…

Our family was dirt-poor in the 1950s. When I was 8 years old, we moved into a house in rural western New York where we had indoor plumbing for the first time, and for only $50-a-month rent. We survived on government-surplus food and Dad’s laborer income and accepted this as normal. Looking back on those years, I don’t remember ever feeling poor because we had good clothes, plenty to eat and a car. In mid-December one year, Dad said, “Get ready for a hike.” I put on my winter boots and coat for a walk in the heavy snow. I didn’t know what Dad had planned when he carried his shotgun as we walked across a field into a nearby woods, but I was up for the adventure. After trekking…

I will never forget the icy Christmas morning we drove to Granny and Papa’s house as giant snowflakes swirled around our station wagon. We all breathed a sigh of relief when we glided into their long snowplowed driveway safely. Our arms loaded with festively wrapped gifts, Papa greeted all of us with his warm smile and bear hugs for everyone. GOOD OLD DAYS in the KITCHEN The inviting aroma of cider and Christmas spices filled the air. Their house felt so cheerful and cozy. My brother and I fought over who had first dibs to stand over the floor vent from the furnace to thaw in the heat that was flowing upward. Then I curiously peeked around the corner into the kitchen. Granny had her AM radio on, the station…

We all have our dreams. If we’re lucky, we’re able to find a way to make our dreams come true. My husband, Steve, had a secret dream, and he made it a reality. He wanted to be the proud owner of an antique car. Since he was a little boy, he had carried on a love affair with cars. As he was a man of a few words, I wasn’t at first aware of how strong his feelings were. I found out soon enough. We weren’t wealthy and lived from paycheck to paycheck, so he knew the only way he would ever own an antique car would be to build his own. His father had a big garage in the back of his house. This was the birthplace of what…

Whence comes this rush of wings afar. Following straight the Noël star? Birds from the woods in wandrous flight, Bethlehem seek this Holy Night. “Tell us, ye birds, why come ye here.Into this stable, poor and drear?”“Harst’ning we seek the new-born King,And all our sweetest music bring.” Hark how the green-finch bears his part, Philomel, too, with tender hearts, Chants from her leafy dark retreat Re, mi, fa, sol, in accents sweets. Angels and shepherds, birds of the sky, Come where the Son of God dath lie; Christ on the earth with man doth dwell. Join in the shout, Noël, Noël.…

In 1949, we moved to North Platte, Neb., where my father was going to be part of the opening of a new Sears, Roebuck store. We rented a house with a basement, and my brother, Ash, and I were enrolled in Jefferson Elementary School that fall. As the Christmas season arrived, my dad told us that the basement was now off-limits to the rest of the family, including Mom. He brought home a box of fish food and set it on the kitchen counter. Since our house was only two blocks east of the new store, he could come home for lunch each day. When he came home, he would take the box of fish food, go down to the basement and “feed the fish.” He continued this behavior for…