Jolly Old St. Nicholas

Another year, another St. Nick’s night come and gone – apparently the old man forgot where I live. More likely, the resident house elf forgot to take herself shopping, not organized enough to have the requisite supplies on hand. No matter – there are plenty of St. Nick’s memories on which to look back.

Neither my sister nor I were fools: we would hunt for the longest, biggest stockings we owned to put out on St. Nick’s eve. If one of us had a longer pair than the other, accusations of injustice would fly. My mom finally had enough of our annual bickering, and knit us matching stockings. In fact, if I remember correctly, she knit one for each of her nieces and nephews as well.

In the morning, the stockings would be laid on the hearth, their load of goodies too heavy for the thumbtacks on which they had hung, empty, the night before. The traditional gifts included a tangerine, a handful of peanuts in the shell and another handful of foil-wrapped chocolate bells and sour ball candy.

But it was the little extras that caught our attention. A first bottle of drug store perfume. Sparkly bottles of nail polish. A pretty necklace. Coloring books and the sixteen count box of crayons.  Brand new barrettes.

None of it was particularly expensive or fancy, bur each in its own way made life a little brighter, a little more fun. It’s telling that I can recall more of the small St. Nick’s gifts than actual Christmas presents (well, except for the mint green polyester pants “Santa” brought one year; it was the early seventies, but that is still no excuse).

May your day be a bit more fun, a little bit sparkly and bright.