Some people have special memories of Christmases long ago.
The memory may be of a cherished gift received that day, reuniting with an old friend or relative, or singing carols with the church choir on Christmas Eve.
For Gary Locatelli of Johnstown, receiving the Beatles' "White Album" and a new stereo when he was 17 years old is one of his fondest Christmas memories.
Agnes Sahut of Johnstown remembers singing in Slovak one Christmas Eve at St. Anthony's Church.
The Leader-Herald asked readers to write about special Christmas memories and send them to the paper. Here are some of the responses:
A "White Album" Christmas,
By Gary S. Locatelli, Johnstown
It was Christmas Eve 1968. I was 17 and all I wanted for Christmas was the new two-record "White Album" by the Beatles and a stereo to play it on.
Dad had already left for his job at General Electric and Mom was on her way to work when she told me to just stay in the house, take care of my 8-year-old brother, don't have any kids over and don't do anything to cause any trouble, because it was Christmas Eve.
As soon as the door shut behind Mom, I was on the phone to my friends and invited them over for a good time. When they arrived, the first thing we did was to cover all the windows with blankets and string all the extra blinking Christmas lights around the room to turn it into a psychedelic palace.
Next, I removed the back panel from my parents' hi-fi player and hooked up the two extra speakers to simulate stereo, which by the way, my parents had never seen.
With Hendrix blaring from the player, lights flashing, several couples nestled comfortably upstairs and my brother being chased through the house screaming, I, dressed in my brightly colored, paisley Nehru shirt with the bell-bottom sleeves and sporting a chain with medallion around my neck, lay down on the floor with my head between the two contraband speakers, closed my eyes and floated off into dreams of psychedelic sugarplums.
It was during the second verse of "Voodoo Chile" I felt the gentle kick in my ribs and opened my eyes to see Dad, who had gotten out of work early, standing over me and exclaiming, "What the hell is this, Teen Age Barn (a local TV show where local teenagers showcased their amateur talents)?" Then, he turned and stormed out the door. Lights and blankets came down, speakers were put back into the closet and everyone was sent home.
For the rest of the day, Dad showed his anger by not speaking a word to me. Mom, who had gotten the bad report, asked, "How could you do this today, of all days?" but she seemed to soften toward me as the day progressed.
That evening, the presents were unwrapped one by one, and when there were no more under the tree, I had in my pile of gifts the coveted "White Album," but there was no new stereo in sight.
Still feeling the sting of Dad's angry stares, I took the two-record treasure into the den and proceeded to play sides one through three on the old hi-fi system with the tone arm that weighed the same as a carpenter's hammer and had a thick needle that scratched a new path into the stereo grooves of the Fab Four's latest effort.
As I put the fourth side onto the changer for a listen, I heard Mom call from the kitchen for me to come in. When I got there, on the table with a big, red bow sat the portable stereo I had dreamed of. "We almost didn't give this to you after what you pulled today," Mom said.
I'm reminded of that Christmas many years ago every time I hear "While My Guitar Gently Weeps," and wonder if maybe it's crying for that original copy of that two-record set that was ruined on that old hi-fi that Christmas Eve in 1968.
Gifts from Santa,
By Carol Lowery, Johnstown
I have many wonderful memories of my childhood, but the one I will always cherish is from when I was 6 years old, I was lying on the couch watching my mother wrap presents.
Before I get into the story, I was born and raised in the big old town of Meco. My parents were the best ever - Marguriete and Vincent Edwards. I only wish they were around to share more memories.
Back to the story. I always seemed to be sick around the holidays. I probably thought I'd get more attention. I don't know, but that's what my sister always said. I heard bells jingling and a big commotion out on our front lawn. I looked out the front window and there was a sleigh, reindeer and Santa.
I can't tell you how excited I was. I opened the front door and Santa came in and I remembered him giving me a coloring book, an orange and a candy cane. I was so happy.
I loved lying on the couch and watching my mother trim the tree.
I remember walking down the streets of Gloversville and the Christmas music would be playing. Oh, how I wish I could go back to the happy times. You can't take my memories away, though.
A gift of song,
By Agnes Z. Sahut, Johnstown
As my children grew older, one daughter portrayed the blessed Virgin Mary in the school play; one daughter played the trumpet for our neighborhood caroling; our son was one of the Three Kings in the school play one year and a shepherd boy following the star another year.
But 70 years ago, I was privileged to sing in the Christmas procession at the midnight Mass. First of all, we young schoolchildren rehearsed every Saturday morning during November and December with Mrs. Anne Solar, church organist, and Father Francis Salamon, pastor of St. Anthony's Church.
Finally, Christmas Eve arrived, and we assembled in the basement of the church to ascend the stairs singing, in Slovak, "Pastieri Stavaj (Shepards Awake)." We sang our hearts out and entered the darkened church, lit only by candlelight, until the conclusion of the Slovak carol.
We girls wore white dresses, the boys long-sleeved white shirts and dark trousers, the altar boys in red cassocks with white surplices. We had all memorized the Slovak words and the tune, and we were there singing to the congregation. We were singing to the newborn babe of Bethlehem. It was our gift.
Fruitful treat, By Betty Tabor, Mayfield
One of the favorite times when I was growing up was Christmas morning.
Because I came from a poor family, fruit was a special treat. On Christmas morning, my brothers and sisters found an orange in the top of our Christmas stockings.
I have always remembered my Christmas stocking, a fond memory of Christmas.
