This is a Christmas card my father received near the beginning of the last century. It was addressed to Master Owen Stimer. That was the way a young boy was addressed back then. It was a more formal time. Postal cards were sent rather than the folded cards we receive now. I have an album full of such cards. This card cost 1 cent for domestic delivery and 2 cents for foreign delivery.

I remember back in the forties when an unsealed card went for a penny and a card in a sealed envelope was delivered for three cents. Forty cards could be addressed and sent at a cost of forty cents. Nowadays, I wish family and friends a Merry Christmas online and only mail a handful of cards.

Look at Santa. He is smoking a pipe. I remember when he was depicted that way. His pipe is long gone. Current Santas don't smoke. This Santa is a bit chubby; certainly not like the roly-poly ones we see today. Of course, the Santas manning the Salvation Army kettles come in all sizes. I do like his boots.

Where is Rudolph and the other reindeer? Prancer and Dancer and such? Santa wouldn't have had to ride a winged bell if they were around. He would have been in a sleigh piled high with toys pulled by eight reindeer with Rudolph's shiny nose lighting the way. He wasn't called Santa Claus either. He answered to St. Nicholas or to the less formal St. Nick. What a difference a century makes.

What are your memories of Christmases past? Dad would have singled out a cedar tree, nice and round and just so tall before the weather turned cold. A week or so before Christmas he would leave the house with an axe over his shoulder and a gleam in his eye, returning with that nice fat cedar. It wasn't until I was married that we bought a tree. To me, Christmas needs a cedar tree.

My brothers and I straightened up and tried a bit harder to behave when the time approached for Santa's appearance. It wasn't easy. After being little hellions all year (except at birthday time, of course) behaving was not in our play book, but we tried, we really did. After all, we wanted presents, not lumps of coal on Christmas morning. That was when presents were opened at our house.

It was really a different time. Mom and Dad didn't spend the nighttime hours assembling toys before Christmas morning. Most of what we received was homemade. Of course, there was the year that the Salvation Army delivered Christmas to our house. Whenever I see a humongous orange, I think of that time.

After being mean all year and taking advantage of my two younger brothers in every way I could think of, they got their revenge at Christmas. Mother always made sure I had a pretty dolly with movable arms and legs, dressed in a frilly gown. My brother always made sure they amputated arms, legs and head before New Years Day. Neither of them would admit to the deed. To bad, so sad. I had all year to get my revenge, again.

I seldom got a birthday present in my early years. January 11 is too close to Christmas. My Christmas present tags would read “Merry Christmas and Happy Birthday.”