12/08/23 - Friday Forget-Me-Nots by Jim Silcott

Photo Caption: Rehearing for the Christmas Play!

Dear Our Lady of Peace Family,

In my youth I was able to spend five magical Christmases in the small village of Northport, New York on the north shore of Long Island.

The first Christmas we were there, 1963, my mom and dad gave us a black lab/German Shepherd mix puppy who was under the Christmas tree that morning. My little brother named him Christopher Blue. That winter we had a terrific snowstorm and when we took him out, the snow was deeper than he was tall. These were the days before leash laws. As he grew older, he became an infamous dog, swimming in the bay with us and then running behind the station wagon because he was wet and not allowed in the car. He sat down one afternoon in the middle of Main Street and Church Ave. right in front of the parish church whose school we attended. Sometimes he would make the trek all the way to the school building and sit on the fire escape outside of my fourth-grade classroom. Christopher Blue was the best Christmas present ever when I was a kid.

Christmas traditions started in Northport with Santa Claus coming to the firehouse on Main Street on a Saturday morning in December. After our brief conversation with him was over, he would hand us a big, juicy orange. Frequently, we walked down the block and attended a Saturday matinee at the Northport Theatre. My best memory at Christmas was getting to watch Santa Claus Conquers the Martians on the big screen. It should be noted that children today are no different than we were. We shouted through the movie, and threw popcorn at the Martians, and ran up and down the aisle shooting imaginary ray guns at the screen and each other. There was always an usher trying to keep control, but I don’t recall that he had any effect.

Because we were in walking distance of Main Street we walked to school, we walked to the library, we walked to Kraft’s Stationary Store for candy where a huge wooden Indian kept guard. When it came time for Christmas shopping the whole thing could be accomplished with a trip or two to the Five and Dime also on Main Street. For those who don’t understand that term it referred to shops where much of the merchandise was priced from five to ten cents (7-11’s were so named because they were open from 7am to 11pm. It was a more literal time, I guess).

I always insisted on Christmas shopping for my parents, grandparents, and siblings alone so that I had time to find the perfect gifts. I had a paper route, delivering the morning newspaper, The Long Island Press. Not only was I able to buy my first bicycle but always had enough dollars to buy presents for everyone.

The day before Christmas break one year at St. Philip Neri School, I got to take the class turtle, Anthony, home for the break. He was in a glass bowl, but the day was slippery. I dropped the bowl which shattered on the hill going up Valley Drive. Anthony survived and spent the rest of the trip in my coat pocket.

We always put our tree up with only the lights, the big ones that got hot and probably could have burned the tree and our house up in flames if left on too long. We didn’t get to decorate the tree, however, with ornaments and tinsel. That was Santa’s job. We went to midnight Mass, which was actually at midnight. I don’t know that I ever stayed awake for the whole service. After Mass it was time for bed.

On Christmas morning, we sat at the top of the steps until Dad scoped out whether Santa had indeed come that night. He turned on the lights and we barreled down the stairs in our pajamas and robes, dazzled by the decorated tree and the separated piles of toys under and around the tree.

In our stocking was always another orange, which convinced us that Santa loved oranges and must spend the off-season in Florida. Christmas breakfast was followed by time to play with our new Christmas toys and, if it was a white Christmas, walk down the street and go sledding down the closed Valley Drive where nothing separated the finish line from Ocean Ave. except a couple of wooden barricades and a couple of black smudge pots.



I miss those times. I miss Christopher Blue and I especially miss my parents. But as Christmas approaches, I find myself too busy to ponder the past as I have nine grandchildren to buy presents for. The Five and Dime is long gone but Five Below and the Dollar Store, where nothing is only a dollar anymore, are around. And there’s always Amazon in a pinch!

Jim Silcott