At my age, I’ve rotated through many Christmas traditions. As a child, I have memories of massive numbers of presents under the tree. Keeping my pajamas on till noon. Those pajamas with the attached slipper, called footted or footy pajamas. The plastic sole always sweated my feet, making them much colder once I got up. Some styles had elastic at the ankle, which cut into my skin leaving a red crease.
The house I grew up in started out as a garage in the 1940’s with an office above it. By 1960 it was converted to a small two-story house. The first level floor was oak installed over a concrete slab. There was no insulating sheeting to put under it and the cold wicked up from the ground, through the concrete, into the flooring. At some point an avocado green plush carpet was installed. That helped the cold, but added static!
I can’t tell you the exact square footage of the house. Based on my adult experiences, I’m thinking it was 1000 per floor. Two bedrooms were upstairs, the living room, tiny kitchen, and bathroom downstairs. Actually, the bathtub was under the stairs. So the entire bathroom was just a foot or so wider than the tub, with the sink on one outside wall, and the toilet on the other. The washer was on a covered, but not enclosed back porch for many years.
When I was about 10, Dad added living space to the back of the house. He more than doubled the square footage, enclosing the laundry, moving the kitchen, and adding upstairs bedroom space. He never added heat to the new addition. Mom was forced to use the cook stove to heat the back half of the house.
Speaking of heat, there actually was only one open flame gas stove, in the bathroom. Dad added a wood/coal stove when I was around 8. I remember the vivid, suffocating smell of the smoke. It was a big brand name stove, but a lower end model. Mom struggled with the damper. I know now that it was exceptionally inefficient.
I had a lot of respiratory illnesses which looking back I blame on that stove. I didn’t simply struggle with stuffy nose, I suffered full blown pneumonia often. Even today, when I go outside and smell the coal stove smoke from houses near me I have a bit of a cough set in.
But on Christmas morning! Oh! I was in kid heaven. I never felt the struggle Mom and Dad would have during the miner’s strikes, when there was no paycheck coming in each week. There were always presents under the Christmas tree. There were always gifts for my birthday. There were always new clothes for the new school year.
Dad always found work. He could weld, he could do some carpentry, he could lay concrete blocks. He was a child of this community and during those times he was available to help the other families. Those families would, in turn, help him, sometimes with cash, sometimes by passing on information on jobs.
People who lived here when Dad was young love Dad. Me, lol well, not so much. But then not many people live here that knew me as a youth, and I haven’t cultivated relationships with people who live here now. I also can’t do the things Dad can/did. I have no skills that people need, like welding. People outside this community like me. LOL
Looking back I know I had a good childhood. I was happy. I had everything I needed. I had food and clothes, and shelter. I struggled with friendships with the neighborhood kids, but that was a minor part of my time.