From Where I Sit

By Pat Spilseth, Columnist

Winter mornings when I walk out to the mailbox for the morning paper, I look up and see stars blazing in the clear, black sky. Though I can’t name all the constellations on display, they’re up there performing their magic on my senses. It is a beautiful sight! By midmorning the sun usually brightens the snow-blanketed lake with patterned gray shadows: that scene is another picture postcard. 

It’s December. Whooshing winter winds are blowing blasts of stinging cold against the rattling windows of our house. Our furnace is pumping hot air through the house; the heat bills are climbing. How lucky I am that I don’t have to shovel the walk or get into a cold car and drive to work. I can sit inside writing a column or put together a jigsaw puzzle in front of the frosty windows. It’s a candyland world outdoors. Tall pines and black branches are frosted with white icing, reminding me of chocolate candy sticks against today’s snowball sun. 

The smells of cinnamon, cloves and nutmeg permeate the kitchen, but I find myself dreading the shopping I need to do for my overwhelming, Christmas shopping list. I used to love the hustle and bustle of Christmas shoppers, but now I don’t enjoy going to the stores to fight crowds. I don’t want to fall on the icy, snow-packed streets, nor do I enjoy dressing up in all my cumbersome heavy coats, boots, mittens and hats. I’d prefer staying at home in a warm house.

Growing up in Glenwood, Christmas shopping was easy. Potters’ Dime Store was my personal shopping haven. I could buy a holiday box of Life Savers for my little sister Barbie, ribbon candy for Mom and chocolate covered cherries for Dad. If I had saved enough allowance money, I could shop for a beautiful china figurine or a candy dish at Callaghans’ Hardware. I could afford prices at these shops and still have money for a movie at the Glenwood Theatre, where Santa stopped in his sleigh to see the kids. 

When Dad shopped for Mom, he’d go to Glenwear, the fancy shop of women’s clothing. That’s where he found the red dress with a circle skirt and rhinestone buttons, Mom’s favorite  dress. And at Irgens’ Men’s Store, we’d purchase a Pendleton wool plaid shirt for Dad and maybe a box of white hankies. Christmas shopping could be done in an hour or two. Small town Mom & Pop stores were great. Every clerk knew every shopper’s name, and it was easy to get into the Christmas spirit!   

When I was a kid and December arrived, my folks would make our once a year trip to the Cities to see the Christmas windows on the Nicollet Mall. My eyes could hardly believe I was seeing all the magical scenes displayed in the glamorous windows of stores that used to line the Nicollet Mall like Harolds, Peck and Peck, Napier, Schlamps, Young-Quinlin and Daytons’ classy department store. Sure, prices were not discounted like today’s common selection, but each store had a uniqueness, an individuality. Special items would tantalize everybody’s eyes and urge folks to open their wallets. Most shoppers probably couldn’t afford to buy huge bundles of things, but what they got was very special. That unique selection of treasures was hard to resist. There’s always been something exhilarating and intoxicating about just out-of-reach treasures one rarely finds.   

Many years later, I still feel the magic in my tummy when I remember staring wide-eyed at Daytons’ window displays of glittering, sparkly items and moving figures. Holiday windows had smiling crowds glued to their windows, kids and adults jostling for a better view. It was a magical scene. Everyone got into the holiday spirit: young, old, rich and poor. Truth be told, I didn’t really expect to buy or receive any of these miraculous treasures under our tree at home. We didn’t have much money, but we sure enjoyed looking at those decorated Christmas windows. We dreamed about them for weeks.

Enjoy a Merry Christmas! 

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To contact Pat, email: pat.spilseth@gmail.com.