Friday, March 22, 2019
Christmas As I Know It :: Personal Narrative Religion Papers
Christmas As I Know It Christmas use to be a tradition in my family or at least I mentation so. I had always associated Christmas with Storyland, and since we are Jewish, that always pleased my find. I think he felt comfortable labeling his children Jewish, and as ache as that didnt upset my mother, he would take us to Storyland to assistant us forget Christmas. But we still got to go to Storyland.Storyland was always closed in December. We drove by my favorite summertime childhood experience, and I watched as we sped by, wondering why I couldnt hear about breed Gooses children. Storyland is closed now, honey, my mom said as she glanced in my fathers direction. He seemed to wrap up behind the steering wheel, almost ashamed of telling me where I thought we were going. But I know that deep down, he was satisfied that for at least the rest of the day, I wouldnt ask him about Christmas. Instead, the real resolve of the drive was to go to the Christmas Farm Inn, a quiet, qu aint inn in Jackson, New Hampshire. I think I was four years hoar when my family started coming to the Christmas Farm Inn. I still dont understand why my father agreed to go each year, but I guess it was besides fair to my mom.My mom came from a Lutheran household where Christmas trees and Sunday run were the norm. She agreed to give up part of her past to raise my infant and I Jewish, but the Christmas Farm Inn was her way of celebrating Christmas. We may not have had a family tree, but we still woke up on Christmas break of day with presents awaiting us.I remember I loved Christmas Eve dinner. But I also remember how I loved it too much. There was turkey, ham, mashed potatoes, stuffing, you lift it (its funny how I only eat that type of meal in one case a year on Thanksgiving, while most of my friends have it on Christmas and Easter as well). After dinner, my family went to a party with all the Inns guests, and I made sure I was the first to sit on Santas intersection when it was time to read The Night Before Christmas. A tall, blond-haired man who looked standardised my elementary school principal read the story out brasslike and I spent my time listening attentively.