A Hanukkah Christmas Morning

 

A Hanukkah Christmas Morning

Chicago: the Mid 1950s
By Arlene Levin
(c) 2020

We weren’t poor. There was always enough money for just about everything we needed. We got an allowance each week. 25 cents was enough to buy some penny candy at the little store across the street from our school. On Saturday afternoon we went to the movies. We got 25 cents to get in and a dime for candy. Sometimes my sister Phyliss and I pooled our money and shared the prize, a box of popcorn 15 cents. We could still afford to share the candy that lasted longest, a Turkish Taffy bar, 5 cents.  

The only time we had “folding money” was on Hanukkah. One night during the 8 day holiday, we went to my grandparent’s house for a big dinner celebration and the candle lighting.

 As the festivities ended it was time for Hanukkah gelt. Waiting for the moment I wondered, “Was this a good year?” Grandpa pulled out his wallet and put 2 crisp $5 bills on the table, one for Phyliss and one for me. Then my dad looked in his wallet and pretended it was empty. We all laughed as he too put two $5 bills on the table. “ Oh my God” I thought “It’s a good year. I’m rich! Now I have the money and the time to go shopping for Hanukkah gifts we’ll open on Christmas morning."

I loved to shop on Christmas Eve. The shop clerks were in a good mood because the holiday crush was almost over. Even shoppers were smiling. I imagined all were looking forward to Christmas Day, a time to enjoy family, friends and all the festivities. 

Before The Dollar Store, there was The Dime Store. As a youngster that’s where I shopped. I carefully manage my present money. I bought little things, a handkerchief, a manicure set, a small box of candy, everyone in my family got a present. This is where I learned it really wasn’t the gift, it was the giving.

As my parents shopped, Hanukkah presents appeared. Carefully wrapped, they were placed on the ornamental fireplace in our living room. We knew most of our presents were necessities, a new sweater, a dress, underwear, but there was always one or two special gifts from “a secret admirer”, my dad.

Piled in plain sight we were on our honor not to touch the presents. I only looked once. On a quiet afternoon when no one was home I carefully twisted the name tag on the box that looked like it held my wished for volley ball. The box was for me! My emotions were mixed. I was glad I was going to get what I wanted but felt guilty because I broke an “on you honor” rule.

As I grew older and with more money on Christmas Eve I went downtown to shop. State Street and the big Chicago department stores bustled with excitement. Some evenings turned almost magical as we were greeted with a dusting of snow mixed with the ringing of Salvation Army bells. Happy I returned home to wrap my presents and place them with the rest on the fireplace.

Our Christmas morning ritual began with a breakfast of German pancakes. I never remember Mother sitting down to eat. Mastering 2 fry pans in the kitchen she kept passing over these lovely thin morsels. They were rolled up with jam and sprinkled with powdered sugar.  Even as a young girl, they gave me heartburn, but I ate them anyway with unabashed delight.

 After breakfast and only after breakfast, we were allowed into the living room. It was a beautiful sight. All the gifts were moved to create a cornucopia of presents that tumbled out of the heart of the fireplace.  One present opened at a time was the rule. “Can I go first? I have a present for Mother.” And we waited as Mother opened her present from Phyliss. It was a pretty scarf. I thought, “I saw that at the dime store. I’m so glad I bought Mother a beautiful coffee cup”. Patiently we waited our turn to give and receive gifts. And so it went...we woooed and aaahed as presents were opened. “I’ve always wanted a green sweater how did you know?” And my dad would smile as he opened yet another box of handkerchiefs. Wrapping paper piled and good feeling mounted. I remember finally opening my “special gift”. I ripped off the wrapping paper and threw the volleyball up in the air with a loud shriek. It was quite a performance. I am happy to say no one suspected my transgression.

In the afternoon we piled into the car and drove to my grandparents house. There we visited with more relatives. We had a wonderful feast and more presents. It was the perfect end to a very special day.

I always thought our Hanukkah/Christmas Morning celebration was a beautiful family tradition. It gave us children money when we had none. It gave us the pleasure of giving where the actual present was secondary. We gathered, we enjoyed, we loved. Our Hanukkah/Christmas Morning is a very special memory I am delighted to share with you.