Christmas gifts: Of holidays past, present and future (12-19-25)

What’s your favorite Christmas memory? That’s a tough question for me as I’m sure it is for you, too. For most of us, the majority of those favorite holiday memories are centered around family.

Of Christmas past, I think back to going to my grandparents’ house on the Smith side of my family when I was young. My dad was very close to his five brothers and sisters, in turn making us cousins tight as well. We’re still close today, although separated by 400 miles or so between here and North Alabama.

A continuing Smith cousin tradition on Christmas Day is always a challenge to see who can call the other first and say, “Christmas Gifts!” The expected response is, “Give it here.”

A few years ago, my cousin Ellaree made family members a calendar with a group photo from one of those family Christmases. I treasure it and I’ve included the photo with this column, figuring it might spark some memories of some of your past Christmases. (That’s me in the striped shirt, glasses and all, leaning in between my Uncle Doyle at left and my dad).

I remember all the food we had for these gatherings. The tables seemed to stretch on and on. Now, I realize how much work went in to preparing all those dishes I took for granted way back then. And I remember the stories from those gatherings.

At one of them, my cousin Jay convinced me he had seen Santa Claus the night before. I was at the age when I was starting to have questions about the big guy, but Jay sold me on the fact he had seen him that December night.

What’s the favorite Christmas gift you remember receiving as a child? Mine was anything related to Hot Wheels, those miniature cars and orange racetracks you pieced together to race them along. I also remember I had an Evel Knievel stunt motorcycle that you revved up with a hand crank before sending the bike and the action figure flying on whatever stunts you could imagine. Man, I spent hours playing with that thing. No power cords, chargers or batteries required.

My blue bicycle was another favorite – rigged with baseball cards in the spokes to make that engine sound racing up and down our gravel road. Stockings were always a treat, too, maybe with some candy or surprises included with the certain socks and underwear.

More recent memories fill up my stocking thinking about Christmas mornings when our two children were young. Those late nights putting together whatever St. Nick might have brought them and didn’t have time to assemble. A playhouse. A train. A tricycle.

The early-morning wake-ups from the two of them after those late nights. As they got older, of course, the gifts got more expensive and they slept in a bit later. …

Of Christmas present, well, it’s going to be a difficult holiday. It will be my first Christmas without Dorinda since meeting her in 1983. We also would have celebrated our 39th anniversary Dec. 20. I know she would want me to enjoy the holiday with our grandchildren. I will try.

As I write this column on Dec. 11, I am sitting in Buzzcatz coffee shop in Orange Beach, getting out for a bit for a new atmosphere to help me put into words what is so hard to think about.

Most of my Christmas shopping is done – that was emotional to do without her. Walking through Target, I picked up two books of Lifesaver gummies for our children. It’s something she did without fail – until we couldn’t find them last year. I found them this year. And I cried.

The packages are wrapped – with care, just not as pretty as she would have done – for the three grands and our two children. I’ll spend the holidays around them, so hopefully that will bring some smiles.

I will miss watching our favorite Christmas movies with Dorinda that always made us laugh – the Griswolds and cousin Eddie. Buddy the Elf. Ralphie. I will miss Dorinda making her breakfast casserole and cinnamon rolls.

I will miss dancing with my Bear to our favorite Christmas song, the Eagles’ version of “Please Come Home for Christmas.” … “Bells will be ringin’ …” 

I will miss watching Dorinda open her gifts and always trying to surprise her. I will miss her laugh, her smile. I will miss the stocking she always put together for me filled with Reese’s Christmas trees.

I will miss her.

But I also will be thankful for our memories, so many Christmases together. There was one Christmas in New York with our children, dragging them through Macy’s on Christmas Eve.

There was the Christmas where we got our daughter a scooter – which she crashed a few minutes later and spent the morning on the couch with an ice pack on her knee.

There was Christmas 2010 when it snowed on the mountain when we were living in Priceville near Decatur. It was the last Christmas before our oldest, Alex, left home for college. That white Christmas was a gift.

December marks the anniversaries of Alex graduating from the University of Alabama and our daughter, Baylee, graduating from the University of North Alabama.

Christmas also brings back memories of family members and friends I’ve lost. My mother died just before Christmas in 2007. Within the same week, my wife lost both her grandmothers. It was a difficult holiday. I still find it difficult to believe this will be my 19th Christmas without mom and the 18th without my father. Christmas isn’t the same once you’ve lost your parents, so hug yours if you can. …

Of Christmas future, I look forward to spending more time with those three grandchildren. I only wish Dorinda could be here to enjoy them, too. I look forward to shopping for them, maybe putting together more toys and getting to experience Christmas all over again through the eyes of a child.

Maybe I’ll even find one of those Evel Knievel stunt cycles for them. Give it here.

And lastly, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to you and yours. Thank you for reading my columns these past few months. And I’ll wrap up this Christmas column with a way that seems appropriate – the closing words to that Eagles song I mentioned above. Dance to it with the one you love.

“So won’t you tell me you’ll never more roam?

Christmas and New Year’s will find you home

There’ll be no more sorrow, no grief and pain

And I’ll be happy, happy once again

Ooh, there’ll be no more sorrow, no grief and pain

And I’ll be happy, Christmas once again.”

The Smiths gather for a Christmas family photo some 55 years ago. The author is wearing glasses at bottom right.

Dorinda and Wayne ride a four-wheeler during a white Christmas in Priceville in 2010.

Dorinda on Christmas Day in 2019.