I woke up on a bitterly cold morning shivering getting dressed and heading toward the Christmas tree and all its presents hoping Santa had brought me a BB gun like I asked. Before I could get to the tree I was summoned by my Dad to help do the chores before opening our gifts. Chores consisted of feeding the cows and pigs and chickens and putting a fire in the stock tank heater so the cattle could get something to drink. The -30 wind was biting as it blew though my parka, hat and mitts. I was 5 years old and it didn't take much to chill me to the bone but I helped Dad shovel the chop and fork the hay and finally start the fire. Dad wouldn't let me use the ax to split the kindling but he did let me throw some coal on the fire after it finally caught. In a few moments the smell of coal smoke filled my nostrils and I had to step away from the water trough because the cattle were crowding around looking for a drink. We started the old windmill to pump more water and it promptly froze so Dad patiently poured steaming water from the tea kettle on the pipes hoping to thaw them out. It worked and the cattle were watered for the day. I was finally allowed to go indoors cheeks red with the cold and ears and fingers stinging. I rushed to the tree only to find out there was no BB gun. I was so disappointed I almost cried.

Visiting my Paternal Grandparents Christmas morning.
That house always had laughter and warmth. Especially at Christmas.
They had very little but always made sure there was more than enough to go around.
My Grandfather would break out his homemade wine and we kids would undo presents and the laughter just wouldn't stop !
Sooner or later my Aunts and Uncles would show up with my cousins and the place would be rockin' !
Music. Memories. Stories. Laughter. Until the adults all fell asleep from the booze or us kids would through over-excitement.

My son's first Christmas. He was 11 days old, and aside from a bunch of clothes. We had no idea what to get him