Two homes, one heart: How my childhood shaped my Christmas memories

As the holiday season arrives, I find myself wrapped in a flurry of nostalgia, joy, and a deep sense of gratitude for the magic of Christmas. For me, the holiday isn’t merely about twinkling lights or perfectly wrapped presents (although I love this too), but rather a time to reflect, connect and celebrate the stories and traditions that make life so rich.

Growing up in Dupo, Illinois, a small town just outside St. Louis, my early memories of Christmas were shaped by the complexities of family. My parents divorced when I was two years old and my life became a balancing act between two homes. Despite the challenges, the love and care I received from both my Mom and Dad and Mary and Jim Johnson, who played a significant role in helping to raise me, ensured that Christmas was always magical.

Now I’m taking a moment to remember what this holiday has always meant to me. My family wasn’t very religious although I was baptized an Episcopalian. My trips to church were few and far between and only occurred when my aunt forced my dad to take me. I am still deeply spiritual though, so there’s that.

My Christmases weren’t centered around honoring the night the Baby Jesus was born but rather about decorating, baking and receiving and giving gifts. I know this isn’t a very well-balanced way to experience the holidays, but this was my reality.

Decorating the tree is the highlight for me. You see, each and every ornament we put on that tree holds very special memories for me. I have a crocheted ornament of Santa that my second-grade teacher (Mrs. Lackey ) made for me; I have 3 ornaments related to my life with Playboy (two plastic Bunnies, thank you Diana Peterson, and also a silver Bunny head). We have ornaments from most all of our travels and a very special one from NYC’s now defunct “21 Club.” I have a tiny plastic Barbie doll in her original striped bathing suit that was a gift from my mom. (This ornament holds pride of place). My late half-sister made a post office building out of popsicle sticks that I cherish (our dad was a third-generation mail carrier).

We have loads of Chihuahua ornaments too- in honor of our late pups Daisy, Mickey and Rooney, as well as a few dedicated to our current dog Penny the Pencil Neck. I could stare at our tree for hours as it takes me back to so many beautiful memories.

When my parents divorced, God Bless them, they never let any anger or frustration spill over on me. As a matter of fact, they made sure I had two perfect Christmases, one at each house. At my dad’s, my stepmom and I would bake cookies and decorate the tree with tinsel. There was always a load of gifts under the tree, and I remember always being happy there.

At my mom’s house, she was more progressive putting up one of the newer silver trees (which wasn’t my favorite), but she tried. Decorating was not my mom’s strong suit although she loved Christmas. My mom’s workdays started at 4 am for as long as I can remember so I’m sure exhaustion was a factor here. She retired as a teletypist from TWA (Trans World Airlines) after decades of hard work. We still had fun until my stepdad came home drunk. That’s when the parties always stopped. But this never diminished my love for Christmas. If anything, it made me cherish it even more.

When my stepfather passed, Chuck was kind enough to invite my mom to live with us. That’s when the real parties began! We had a tree over 12-ft-tall with presents stacked sky-high around it every year. We also had a big chili party for family and friends at Christmastime which was always so much fun! The house was decorated inside, front, back and on our deck. I think you could see it from the Space Station.

But these days, I realize Christmas isn’t just about nostalgia or beauty—it’s about giving back. Through my connections with the city's nonprofit community, I’ve seen firsthand how the spirit of the season inspires generosity. Whether it’s supporting causes close to my heart or sharing stories of others’ kindness, Christmas reminds me of the power of coming together to make a difference.

For me, Christmas is the joy found in both the smallest acts of kindness and the grandest displays of love. It’s in the handwritten notes, the laughter shared over a holiday meal and the sparkle of snowflakes on a winter’s night.

And as I reflect on the Christmases of my childhood, I’m reminded of the lessons they taught me: that love, even when divided, is still abundant. That family extends beyond bloodlines. And that the magic of Christmas lies not in the gifts under the tree but in the memories we make and the connections we cherish.

Wishing you and yours a season filled with wonder, joy, and the warmth of those you hold dear.

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