A Christmas Memory with Mom

This morning while drinking my coffee, one of the songs from "A Charlie Brown Christmas" played over our sound system.

The music, as good music has a habit of doing, took me right back to the mid-1960s and one of my sweetest holiday memories. 

I grew up fairly poor. One of the things I've always loved about my mom, who passed away in 2007, was that she always put myself and my sisters first. Our happiness was hers.

But it wasn't always easy to deliver on that happiness. My mother worked hard, both inside and outside of our modest two-bedroom house in the foothills of the Appalachians, but she did her best, along with my father, to see that we were provided for and, if we were lucky, even had some extras.

We may have not had a lot, but we always had enough.

Getting back to that Vince Guaraldi music, it reminded me of one of those special times with my mom that still remains vivid in my memory, even if what happened occurred over fifty years ago.

It was 1965. I was seven years old and was excited to see this new holiday special "A Charlie Brown Christmas" which had been advertised on TV. Typical of kids of my generation, I was often glued to the tube a good portion of my spare time, lying on the living room floor with a pillow. 

Mom had bigger plans for me than just watching the show on our black and white console TV. She knew a woman who bartended at a little neighborhood bar up the street from where we lived.

On the night the show would debut, Mom took me out. Just me. The two of us headed to the bar at the time "A Charlie Brown Christmas" was slated to air. See, the bar had something we didn't have at home--a color television. She wanted me to be able to watch this magical animated special in all its color glory.

We sat together at the bar, which was almost empty at that relatively early hour, drinking Cokes and watching Charlie Brown and his friends discover the magic and true meaning of Christmas.

Like the Christmas tree in that special, this probably sounds humble. But it was, and always will be, special to me because, for once in my life, I had Mom all to myself, just the two of us alone. That hadn't happened before and I'm not sure it ever did again.

That night was one of the most special Christmas presents I've ever received--the gift of not just a classic holiday special debuting, but the gift of quality time with a mother who loved me and who was always spread far too thin. The fact that she made time for the two of us that night will always live in my heart as the true meaning of the holiday.

Giving is always better than receiving. Right, Mom?