Author: Stan Escott

I tagged along after my father that morning, being hopeful that maybe we would stop at the Olympia Candy kitchen and I could sample some of their wonderful candies. I followed him into the hardware store there on Lincoln Avenue,  I think it was called Hess Hardware or something like that. My daddy had to pick up some “this and that’s”, as he called them.

We paused for just a moment at the front of the store to admire this amazing bicycle that was for sale. It was a very special. It was a Schwinn with red frame and fenders, and sparkling reflectors and everything. It was beautiful. My daddy asked me if I liked that bike, and I said, “Oh boy, it certainly is a special bicycle.” Continue reading

I have a favorite wine glass. It has a particular shape that appeals to me, and is a signature glass carrying carries two legends: “Stone Hill Winery” and “Vintage Restaurant”. I know exactly when I got this, nearly twenty years ago, and where I got this, and all the circumstances surrounding the purchase. Continue reading

Fanny Pack?  Remember them? Twenty-five years ago, they were all the rage. Whenever you traveled, it seemed that everyone you saw had these little pouches, belted around the waist. We kept our passports, sun glasses, lip gloss, and lots of miscellaneous stuff we wanted to carry, in the many pockets on our travels. Continue reading

My grandparents on my mother’s side, came from German stock, and settled in northern Pennsylvania. They worked to keep some of the old country traditions alive and my mother carried one or two into our family life. The following was pieced together from childhood memories recalled during this Christmas season and some of the stories my sisters shared with me.

I remember, the couch had been moved to another part of living room, and that is where I was told to sit, along with my sisters. Mother and daddy brought in the freshly-cut Christmas tree, already in its stand, and set it in the space cleared in front of the windows that looked out on Lawson Avenue. I was the ‘little guy’.  I must have been three or four. I had no recollection of putting up a Christmas tree the previous year, so my excitement came from all the stories that my sisters shared. My eyes grew in size as the tree was set in place, and a box of decorations was placed nearby. A tree in our living room!

“Aren’t we putting lights on?” my older, wiser sister asked. Mother said, “No, not yet” I remember daddy doing something with the tree, putting something on the branches, while mother seemed to be telling him where they should go and to “make sure they are straight”. After a long time, they stepped back, seemed to admire what they had done. Then they stopped and mother went into the kitchen to start supper, while daddy went into his ‘study’.

My other sister, the one who always teased me, protested. She whined about not putting on the colorful paper chains we had created the day before, or any of the green and red popcorn kernels we had strung, or allowing the kids to do anything to decorate the tree. To which daddy had replied, “No, not yet. Have patience, we will get to it tonight”.

I sat in my highchair, dinner seemed to take forever!  I kept glancing in the living room at that tree. A tree in our living room! I had never seen anything so pretty. Dinner was over and now the dishes had to be done, my sisters’ job. That is when I started whining – something I was learning from my sisters! Daddy left the kitchen. I don’t think he wanted to hear me crying.

Finally, we all gathered in the living room and told to return to the couch. Something had happened to the tree! On many of the branches there were little white candles. Then mother started to sing. Oh, little town of the Bethlehem… As she was singing, daddy took a kitchen match and started lighting all the little candles, right there on the tree!  Then he turned off the lights and we all sang Silent Night. What a beautiful tree on fire!

Then daddy pulled the rocking chair over and sat in front of us, with his Bible. Mother then explained that her parents had come from Germany, and one of the family traditions was putting candles on the tree, lighting them, then reading stories from the Bible and singing carols. And so we did, daddy read the Christmas story from Luke, and when we sang Silent Night, I couldn’t help but notice that mother was crying…something I could not understand until so much later. Daddy then said a prayer.

After that things got really exciting! We all blew out the candles. Daddy and my older sister began to put on stings of lights and we all helped to put on strings of craft-paper chains all around the tree, and the strings of popcorn. My sisters started placing foil icicles carefully on the tree, while I just took handfuls and threw them at the tree. They didn’t like that, but I just giggled. What fun!

Then, long past my bedtime, just as I was falling asleep on the couch, to my surprise, hot chocolate and cookies!  I don’t remember doing lighted candles in later years, but the hot chocolate and cookies was an annual family tradition.

Frohe Weihnachten – Feliz Navidad – Merry Christmas