This year, we've asked h2g2ers to contribute stories of their Christmas memories. Florida Sailor tells us about. . .

It was probably my tenth Christmas, what I wanted, most of all, an electric train set all my own. From as long as I could remember my father had built one each year for Christmas in the entry when we lived in the flat over my grandparents in the city, it was disassembled each January. We had moved to our own place in the suburbs and father had built a large HO scale layout in the basement that stayed up all year.

It had a town from the wild west, a mine that recovered either coal or gold, depending on how good your imagination was and a pasture with a heard of cows. We could watch, and play under close supervision. I wanted my own! As the second son of three children I was used to getting hand-me-downs at best, anything my big brother had outgrown.

Each year the Christmas catalogue would arrive and we were each given a crayon of our own colour, my brother got brown and I blue, to match the colour of our eyes. My sister, because she was a girl, although too young to make her own choices, was assigned pink. My brother and I considered carefully before making our selections. If we chose extravagant toys that we didn't really want they would supplant the ones we really wanted. I really wanted my own electric train set.

As Christmas morning dawned, we children awoke. There was a strict rule that we were not to leave our rooms until summoned by our parents. A brief scurry into the hall and a glimpse at the tree downstairs assured us that Santa had indeed come and the presents where waiting for us. The eternal minutes passed and at last Mother and Father stopped by our door and told us it was time to go downstairs.

Father had plugged in the coloured tree lights, and mother had plugged in their coffee pot. It was time to begin the opening ceremony. My brother and I first found the precious presents we had purchased from our allowances for our parents, gaudy plastic broaches for mother, and cheap loud ties for father.

We could then begin taking turns at opening one present each, in turn. My mother opening for our 2 year old sister. My brother and I each started with the largest box and worked our way down. about two-thirds of the way through, I realized that there were no boxes left that could contain even a poor tiny bit of a train, I tried not to be too disappointed.

At last there was only one box left with my name on it, just big enough for a single pair of socks. Putting on a brave face I opened it, determined not to spoil the family's Christmas with my own disappointment.

Inside the box there were no socks, only a rectangle of paper with carefully printed words.

• Turn toward the wall between the front door and the kitchen.
• step forward thee paces
• turn left
• walk forward five paces
• turn right
• walk forward 11 paces
• turn left
• open the door
• walk down the stair to the landing
• turn left
• walk down the stair into the basement
• Turn right
• Walk forward 5 paces
• Turn right
• walk forward 3 paces
• turn left
• walk forward two paces
• Merry Christmas!

There, before me, was my father's own train layout with a ribbon and card tied to it!

It was now my very own!

Florida Sailor

03.12.12 Front Page

Back Issue Page