In the 1950s and early 1960s we celebrated Christmas Eve in the small basement apartment of the Banning grandparents, Clarence Banning and Genevieve, née Pellymounter. Eleven people, additional chairs from the kitchen and, of course, the Christmas tree more than filled the living room. But there was still plenty of room in the middle for the main attraction for us four cousins: the Opening of the Gifts.

A strict rule governed the Opening of the Gifts. Only one child or adult opened his or her gift at a time. This made every gift special. Special, too, were the comments made by those watching. There were Oohs and Ahas, calls to show what you had unwrapped or to model the clothing you had received.

In those days, no one had much money to spend on presents. That meant that gifts were practical: sweaters, gloves, pajamas, and even underwear. When Uncle John was encouraged to model his new undershorts, he placed them on his head like a crown to the laughter of all present. Pam slipped into be bedroom with her new pajamas and pulled the curtain between the two rooms. After slipping into her new night wear, she pulled back the curtain like a real show woman. Her appearance was met with loud applause.

I only remember one of the ornaments on the Christmas tree. It was a red cellophane icicle filled with peppermint candy. Once I asked if we couldn’t open the icicle and eat the peppermints. Grandma said they were much too old to be eaten. In my eyes the peppermint-filled icicle became a precious antiquity. If I remember correctly, this valuable decoration died one Christmas of old age.

In later years I learned about the adults’ worries and concerns during these years. But they never affected the wonderful atmosphere of Christmas Eve. And any interpersonal tensions that may have existed were always put on hold on the special occasion.