Our favorite family tradition at Christmas - reading "The First Christmas Stocking" written by my husband’s Grandfather in the early 1900's

Every Christmas Eve we read “The First Christmas Stocking,” written by my husband Meakin’s grandfather. Years ago Meakin’s dad gave us his copy of “The First Christmas Stocking” that was crinkly and aging along with some black & white drawings of the story his father had written and told to him when he was a young boy. Meakin can also remember his Grandfather telling him this very same story.

Photo of Meakin and his Grandfather reading “The First Christmas Stocking”

Here’s an excerpt of what Meakin’s Dad told us about Christmas when he was a boy in 1919 and about the story his father wrote - “The First Christmas Stocking.”

On the day before Christmas of 1919 in Peotone, Illinois, Mother had spent the preceding week baking cakes, pies, and sugar cookies in Santa Claus or Christmas tree shapes and especially “Tea Rings” with their filling of brown sugar, cinnamon, butter and currants. They would be a feature of the holiday breakfast, accompanied by butter and lemon dressed salt mackerel which Dad had soaking in a dishpan of water. The Christmas tree which Dad and I had brought home on my sled leaned, snow dusted, against the side of the house. It would not be brought in until I was in bed and, presumably, fast asleep.

“The “FIRST CHRISTMAS STOCKING” is a Hoffer family heritage. It was written by my Father in the early years of this century when there was no television, few radios and movies were silent and seldom seen. Consequently story telling was an important means of education and of communication, especially between parent and child. This particular story occupied a special place in our Christmas celebration. After dinner on Christmas Eve we walked to the church for the Christmas pageant. When I returned home there was a sudden rush to get undressed, hang my stocking and get to bed. And when up I went, Dad did too, to lie beside me, to “start the night” and tell me the story of a little boy whose pleasure was in giving, not getting, whose concern was for the happiness and pleasure of others and in that found his own happiness. Dad wanted very much to see this story published. He found an old friend to do the drawings that illustrate the story here. But his dream was never realized.

Always up for a challenge, in 1977 I decided to find a book binder to see if they could make copies of the story for a Christmas present from us to all of our family members. When they said yes, I begin to painstakingly re-type the story on an old IBM Selectric typewriter with the rotating ball (there were no personal computers or word processing programs available at the time) and took it, along with the drawings, to a very seedy (read unsafe) part of downtown Houston to the book binders, selected an elegant dark green leather cover with gold lettering for the title, ordered copies, and said, “Call me when it’s finished.”

Meakin’s father was thrilled when he saw the finished book. He wrote in the inscription in 1977:

“Many times in the last twenty years that my Dad has been gone I have wished I could tell him of some of the wonderful things I’ve seen or done or just lived through. This is one of those times. Now, thanks to Meakin and Sam, here it is. If not for all the world to see, at least for me and my children, their wives and husbands, their children and their children’s children.” James J. Hoffer, New York City, 1977.

Here is “The First Christmas Stocking.” By the way, Meakin’s dad just celebrated his 97^th birthday in November. He still lives at home, cooks most of his own meals, reads the New York Times every day and does their crossword puzzles. And on every Christmas Eve he gets out his copy and reads this story.

The First Christmas Stocking

By Doc Hoffer

Away up north a long time ago

There lived a young lad with the Eskimo.

He had a reindeer but he had no sled

So he hitched it to an ice cake instead.

He carved toys of ice and had lots of fun

But they soon melted when exposed to the sun.

One day a ship got fast in the ice

And our little boy thought it would be nice

To take a look at this strange sight;

He wanted to go out that very night.

The men on the ship did not like to stay

So they hitched up their dogs and hastened away.

So Kris Kringle, for that was his name,

Went to look the thing over; you’d do the same.

He found it deserted and much to his joy

There were all kinds of tools that would please any boy.

He found lots of wood and pieces of metal

Lead for his soldiers and an old iron kettle.

He made a sled to hitch his deer to.

He made lots of toys like you’d like to do.

He soon had so many he thought ‘twould be fun

To give each little boy and girl some.

So he hitched up old Prancer and started away

With a pack on his back just ‘fore Christmas Day.

When he got there, there were Indians around

And just a few settlers were then to be found.

The Indians chased him and scared him you see,

He wished he was back home, take it from me.

He urged on the deer and imagine the shock

When it made a quick turn and the sled hit a rock.

He flew right up into the air

And lit on top of a cabin right there.

He crawled down the chimney to get away

From this bunch of savages this Christmas Day.

When he got in the room ‘bout ready to die

He found lots of stocking hung up to dry.

There were small ones and large ones, short ones, too.

Says Santa, “Now here’s what I’ll do.

I’ll fill each sock from top to toe

Then if the Indians are gone, for home I’ll blow.”

So he put in soldiers and swords and guns,

Wooden horses and toys for the little ones.

He peeked out the door and his deer was still there

So he jumped in his sleigh and sailed through the air.

He had such fun he said in his glee

“I’ll be back next year with more presents, you see.”

So he worked the whole year as hard as he could

And comes back each year as Santa Claus should

He’s old and gray, his beard is white

But he comes back each year all right

For all children he brings nice toys

For he still loves good girls and boys.

I apologize for the change in print size and the spacing. For some reason Blogger had a mind of its own today and gave me fits with this post and I've re-done it several times with equally strange results. Do you ever have this problem? It's very frustrating. Oh well or c'est la vie as the French say. 

Happy holidays, Merry Christmas and Joyeux Noel everyone.