Most of the Christmas memories I’ve posted had to do with my childhood years and how the family I grew up in celebrated Christmas. A day or two ago, I came upon another memory, but from the time when our children were young.

It was either 1983 or 1984. In ’83, we were newly home from Saudi Arabia. We flew into the US around Dec 15, left our kids with my dad in Cranston, RI, and flew to Asheboro, NC to house hunt in advance of our move there. Lynda flew back to RI Dec 23, and me on Dec 24, if I remember correctly. Christmas that year was celebrated at my brother’s house in Snug Harbor. Our sister, Norma, flew in Christmas morning, surprising all but my brother.

Or, it might have been in 1984. That year we drove from NC to RI for Christmas. I don’t remember if Norma came that year, but the rest of the party and the location was the same. Looking back at the age of the kids, it’s hard to tell which year it was. I believe that beginning in 1985 we stayed in NC for Christmas, so it had to have been 83 or 84.

Our two kids and my brother’s two boys put on a “pageant” for the adults, I think before Christmas supper, which would have been early evening. As I recall, our son Charles was the instigator/organizer of it. The pageant was merely singing Christmas songs, the more common ones that the kids knew. But the highlight was the opening. The children came out, oldest to youngest, and introduced themselves. It went like this.

Edward said, “I’m Mr. Todd.”

Charles said, “I’m Mr. Todd.”

Christopher said, “I’m Mr. Todd.”

Sara said, “I’m Mrs. Todd.”

I remember Dad looking in anticipation as to how Sara would introduce herself, and she said Mrs. instead of Miss, causing great laughter in the adults.

The pageant was good. The kids forgot the words to the songs, or sang the wrong song, or the wrong combination of kids came out from the bedroom—which served as the offstage—to the living room to sing. At one point Charles became frustrated with something that went wrong, or someone who didn’t come on stage when they were supposed to, and Charles blurted out, “We can’t get a d——d thing done!” Again, causing much laughter.

Later in the evening, after dinner, the kids got a little boisterous. I remember my nephews’ older cousin, John, was also there. Dad got tired of the noise, or pretended to get tired of the noise. My dad was a naturally kind-hearted soul who put on a pretense of being gruff most of the time, especially with his four grandkids. The noise got to the point where he said, loudly and gruffly, “All right, you boys. Out to the sun porch for ten minutes of silence!”

The four boys dutifully followed Dad from the kitchen, where they had been cutting up, through the living room to the sunroom. The boys showed no excitement. But there, behind the boys, was little Sara, also going out to the sunroom for “ten minutes of silence.” She had an excited look on her face and was obviously looking forward to what she thought would be a fun time.

As I recall, silence reigned in the house for the next ten minutes, excepting for whatever conversation the other adults were engaged in. The kids obeyed their grandfather (the cousin also obeying).

Anyhow, that’s the memory. Nothing special in a way, but very special in other ways. I tried to get my grandkids to do five minutes of silence out in the sunroom one year. It didn’t work. But Dad got the job done.