During my childhood, Christmas was always the most joyous and marvelous holiday of the year. There was a special atmosphere in the air. The streets and stores were decorated with brilliant lights and festive displays. The air was cold, and it got dark early. My mother would come home with packages we were not allowed to see, and she and the nurse would whisper together. And months before Christmas, we children would have started work on our presents. Everything was, of course, made by hand. Some gifts were started in school in a special Christmas class, and some we started at home, with our nurse to help us. Deciding what to make was the hardest part, and I always had great trouble finishing my gifts on time. I had my mother, my father, and my grandparents to take care of, and often had rather grandiose ideas. I remember one Christmas especially, where my mother received one very fancy crocheted slipper for Christmas, and the other one for her birthday in January.

For us children, the real excitement began four weeks before Christmas at Advent, when we started to put our shoes out in the hall in front of our bedroom door every night. If we had been good that day, St. Nicholas would come and leave some candy in our shoes during the night. In the morning, as soon as we woke up, we would rush to the hall and see what was in our shoes. I can't remember ever not finding anything in my shoe, so I must have been very good during this time. Parents loved this time of year too, as it certainly encouraged the children to be good!

In school, we worked on our gifts and on the special Christmas card for our parents written in our best script and illustrated in art class, while the teacher read Christmas stories to us. We sang Christmas carols, and also carried on our studies. The school was beautifully decorated, and then just before our Christmas holiday began, we would have our annual school Christmas festival, to which parents were invited. Each class had a chance to perform and to sing a beautiful Christmas carol. Each grade had a certain hymn to sing, and always it was exciting to look forward to the next Christmas hymn. It was a very festive occasion, and we would have practiced our carols for weeks.

Finally the great day would arrive! All the gifts would be more or less finished, and now all we had to do was to get through the day somehow as we celebrated on Christmas Eve. The dining room and living room were forbidden territory for us children, and we had to stay upstairs. The cook was extremely busy in the kitchen, and wonderful smells filled the house, especially of Christmas cakes, cookies, and chocolates. There was a scurrying, mysterious bumping, and noises that drove us almost mad, with curiosity. Furiously we were finishing our presents and wrapping them, and studying the Christmas poem we would have to recite for Santa Claus. Long before it was time to come down, we would be all cleaned up and dressed and ready. Our father would come home early, and then finally around 5:00 p.m., the bell would ring downstairs, the signal that everything was ready. We would race down the stairs, clutching our gifts. Our grandparents would be there (my father's parents), the maids, and one or two close friends to share the day with us.

First we would go into the dining room, where the table would be already set for the Christmas dinner, but the great doors between the dining room and living room would still be shut. Our excitement and suspense would be almost unbearable by now. Finally, the great doors would be opened by my mother, and there at the other end of the room would be the beautiful, glittering, tall Christmas tree, reaching to the ceiling and covered from top to bottom with lights, candies, and decorations. The lights were real candles, and they would shimmer and shine in the most glorious way. We could hardly restrain ourselves. But first we had to recite our poems to Santa Claus, who would be standing there smiling and waiting, and looking somehow familiar. We'd rattle off the poems as quickly as possible, and then would have permission to enter the living room. We'd run in and try to find "our" table, for my mother would have a separate table set up for each child. The adults would have to share the large desk top. Our joy would know no bounds, and there would be such hugging and kissing and screaming and laughing. On each child's table would be a large dish filled with special Christmas cookies and sweets, a custom we still keep up in our home. Our parents would exclaim over their handmade gifts, and everyone was happy and joyous and filled with love.

After we had had some time to play with our new toys and check out each package and compare gifts and taste some of the sweets, our Christmas dinner would be served in the dining room. We ate there only on very special occasions, so this was exciting in itself. The table was beautifully set with a white damask tablecloth, and our best silver and china. And the large chandelier above it shone brightly and lent a festive atmosphere. In Germany, the special dish for Christmas was carp, served with a horseradish sauce. This was the only time we ever ate carp, and so this too was very special. The cook and a helper would serve it. But of course, the best part of the dinner was the dessert, a delicious Christmas cake.

After dinner, my father would usually play Christmas carols on our concert piano, and we would all sing with him.

My beloved grandmother had unhappily died when I was only six years old, and for years I missed her on Christmas Eve. She had only had sons, and was delighted to have a little grandaughter, and loved buying pretty little dresses and gifts for me, and I missed her loving presence. But still we always had a full table.

Though we always felt a little sad and let down when Christmas Eve was over, we still had something forward to look forward to--slowly removing and eating all the sweet ornaments on the tree until they were all gone. Then Christmas was truly over.