This morning I visited Diane from Still the Lucky Few who reflects on life as a Senior. She was born into the generation before the Baby Boomers – The Silent Generation. This group was born between 1926 and 1945 and what she has to say is fascinating. My mother and husband both belong to this group as well. It made me think of the generational differences we would have as well as the global differences that the same generation would have given the place that they lived. My Mum’s experience in Australia would, for example, be different to that of Diane’s in Canada and my husband’s in England.
This led to an idea. If anyone is interested, starting with monthly I will host a PAST post. I will start with Christmas past given that we are now in full swing in the Festive Season. If you want to join in write a post about your Christmases in the past. It can be the routine of them, how you celebrated, memorable Christmases, the types of presents you received. Anything you want to write. Just add what generation you are and what country this past event occurred in.Leave a link on my post and I will add it so that it can easily be found. If enough people are interested I will try and work out the blue frog to do link ups.
I’m looking forward to reading your stories and looking for what is common to them and the differences. Above all I hope it is fun.
Childhood Christmas’s Past : 4 yrs to 11 yrs
Generation: Baby Boomer
As children we loved Christmas. I’m sad to say it was the thought of presents more than the celebration of Baby Jesus. From the time the silver Christmas Tree was erected with its sparse decorations we were super hyped. By Christmas Eve we could hardly control ourselves. Some presents were under the tree already but it was the empty pillowslips that Santa would fill that we couldn’t wait for. Mum used our energy singing Christmas Carols around the piano and then we would dress up using sheets and towels and do a nativity play. For some reason we loved doing this but when we moved to Sydney (12 yrs) we no longer did these things. After we had entertained my parents we would put out the piece of Christmas Cake and glass of sherry for Santa and off we’d go to bed. We figured the earlier we went to bed the quicker the next morning would come.
Up early we’d stare longingly at the full pillowcase until eventually my parents would arrive in the lounge room and we would be allowed to open one present from the pillow case. The remainder of the presents we didn’t get to open until we returned from church. My Father was a minister and had two services, one that was very early and there simply wasn’t time for him to get ready and us to open our presents. We were jealous of the other kids at church who had all opened theirs before the service. We would get home from church around midday and then sit and open them. We would receive one main present, the santa sack which were mainly stocking fillers of edible delights, perhaps a dress my Mum had made for the Barbie doll, bubble bath and bits and pieces like that with one larger present. We loved it all. Other presents included one from my Dad’s mother, one from Auntie Boudie (who still sent me a rag book each year) and one or two other smaller gifts. We didn’t have a lot so everything, no matter how small, we appreciated everything.
Despite the heat of the day we would always sit down to a traditional English menu of Roast Chicken, roast veggies and leg ham lunch followed by plum pudding. The table would be laden with nuts, glace fruit, chocolates and sweets and we would eat ourselves silly until we were fit to burst. Lunch would finish around 3 pm and we would retire to bed to read the books we had received and munch on more sweeties from our Santa sack.
Tea, if we had any, would be left over meats made into sandwiches. We didn’t see any other family members on Christmas day as they lived 800 miles away in Sydney. My Dad always took holidays after Christmas so we would make the trip and see them for a couple of weeks and this would be followed by a beachside holiday at Ballina.
The silent Generation –