The Writer's Pen

Christmas is over for another year, but the memories still remain.

This year, for example, it rained on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. I don’t recall that ever happening, though my memory isn’t that great anymore. The grandkids wanted to go sledding, but there wasn’t any snow. I know I’ll remember this rainy Christmas for a long time, but in years to come if someone asks me what year it occurred, I’ll be stumped. That’s just the way my life goes.

One of my Christmas memories from an unknown year involves cutting a Christmas tree at a tree farm west of Milford. This farm was run by some members of our church, so we patronized them several times over the years. One year after our kids moved away, I invited a neighbor kid, Nate, to go with me to select and cut a tree. He was wide-eyed with excitement, since he had never done that before. I was his mentor in a Kinship program through our local YMCA, and we tried to do outdoor activities together whenever we could. My wife, Rita, decided to do some Christmas shopping in Spencer while we were on our tree-finding quest.

When we got to the tree farm, I locked my pickup, stuck the keys in my pocket, picked up a sled and saw, and started hunting for a tree. After examining several trees to find the perfect one, we finally cut one down and loaded it into the pickup. We went inside to pay and were offered cider and cookies. When we decided to leave, I couldn’t find my keys. We retraced our steps as well as we could, but still no keys. I called Rita, still in Spencer, and asked if she had a pickup key on her keyring. She didn’t, so she drove to Spirit Lake from Spencer, back to Milford, then back to Spencer again. Nate and I took the tree home to set it up. A few months later on a Sunday morning, our friends presented me with a rusty set of keys. They found them under one of the first trees we examined. Ho! Ho! Ho!

A couple years ago when my daughter, Melanie, was here for Thanksgiving, we took her and my two young grandsons to this same tree farm. We thought the boys might duplicate my neighbor kid’s enthusiasm, but that was not the case. It was cold, and they wanted to stay inside. Melanie and I kept pointing out trees for them to examine, and they wanted them all. It wasn’t that they liked them all, it was they were too cold to care. They wanted cider and cookies! We loaded a tree to take home to set up. I think the tradition of cutting our own Christmas tree needs a little tweaking. I’m not sure what the answer is, but we do have a nice artificial tree in a box in our heated basement. We can probably have cider and cookies after setting it up, even if we don’t get cold first.

Another Christmas memory I have from an unknown year was driving home in a blizzard. We had been guests of my brother, Glen, and his family in Red Oak. When we left the weather was fine, but the farther north we got the worse the weather got. By the time we got to Storm Lake it was nearly a white-out. When we stopped at a gas station to get gas and coffee, I foolishly shut off the car. It refused to start, so I had to call a tow truck. They didn’t have anyone to work on the car until the next day, so after calling all over town, we found the last single motel room available in Storm Lake. We were given a ride there, and all five of us waited out the storm in that small room. The next day dawned sunny and bright, and we were on our way in no time. In hindsight, it would have been a lot nicer (and cheaper) to stay in Red Oak another night!

My most memorable Christmas experience happened in 1987 and it is one that I think of often. I was unemployed at the time, and Rita was working part-time. Things were a little tight, but we decided to give the kids what we could and make the best of our situation. On Christmas Eve, we all got into our station wagon to attend church services. The service was wonderful, and as always, our kids each got a sack of candy. But when we got to our car, we couldn’t believe what we saw! Our station wagon was full of presents for the kids and food for the family! We drove home in wonder and awe, not knowing who to thank. I started a new job a couple weeks later and have since tried to return thanks by helping the needy in whatever small way I can.

Christmas may be done for another year, but hopefully some good memories remain. If they do, maybe this coming year will be good as well – once we get past the elections. Then it will be time to find the perfect tree, wrap presents, and start on some new memories.

Roger Brockshus and his wife, Rita, live in Spirit Lake. They are mostly retired, but keep busy in various activities in their church and community. Though it is a challenge, they also do what they can to keep up with their kids, grandkids, grand dogs and grand cats.