Good Ole Days

By Heather Stergos

As a child nothing spoke of the magic of Christmas like my grandparents house. I can still clearly remember the thrill of pulling up the snowy drive, for it seems like it was always snowy when we arrived at the big house for the holidays. My grandparents lived in a large three-story house built in 1908. At any point during the year it was a magical place for a child, filled with all sorts of treasures, but it seemed especially so during the Christmas season.

(Myra and Andrew Riley in front of the Christmas tree at the Seven Stars residence)

By Polly Mazariegos

All of my childhood Christmas memories are full of fun and food, except on the occasion when I had such a bad case of bronchitis and had such a sore throat I did not want to come down for Christmas morning.

By Judy Goldman

I grew up on a farm in the heart of central New Jersey. We lived in a quiet, rural area. It wasn’t that bad, though. Being on a farm had its advantages, although it wasn’t really much to speak of, as farms go. My grandparents aging seemed to be inversely proportional to the number of animals we had. During this particular December, the chickens and goats were long gone and all that remained were three dogs and an ever-increasing number of stray cats that somehow managed to make their way to the farmhouse.

A Bike for Christmas

By Vickie Perkins nee Alumbaugh

The Christmas I remembers most is when I got my first two wheel bicycle. It was green. It was in the 1950s and I was around 6 or 7 years old.