Pots & Pans Perhaps

New Year's Eve wasn't standard for us through the years. Seeing a movie in a theater that encompassed the last minutes of New Year's Eve as well as a bit of the First Day of the Year is one way I've brought in the New Year. I've slept through it on occasion; I've spent time with people, not in a party-type of fashion, though we weren't paying attention to the clock, & at least an hour into the New Year, we realized it. These are more recent ways I've "celebrated" New Year's Eve. 

For the most part, back then, our family would gather at whichever local cousin's house chose to host whomever decided to come. This would be nice because it'd be our relatives, although we didn't live in the same neighborhood as any of them, requiring at least a twenty minute drive usually. We'd switch it up occasionally & join our neighbors instead. They'd have their relatives joining them as well, though they were relatives with which we'd become acquainted throughout the year, as well as the years 😄, so no one felt it strange that we'd, well, quite literally, walk across our lawn, through their driveway, & up their front walkway to their front door. We'd joke about how we didn't even need to use the street, let alone drive (& since no one was driving, Dad could drink as he wished without issue), in order to get to the neighbor's house.

The adults typically hung out on the main floor; there'd be something on the television for their entertainment while everyone caught up with one another. The kids resorted to the downstairs where there was a couch for us to goof off on & some other random things around. There'd be about eight to ten kids, nearly ten years apart from oldest to youngest, though we knew each other well enough & enough age difference & maturity range in between the nine to ten years that it never mattered.

Some of what was fun about hanging out next door was that this group of friends, for me, not the adult generation, is that the most of the rest of the year when I'd see this group of people [read: those who were my age] I'd be seeing them only during the "nice weather". This meant that we'd either be wearing play/sweat clothes or in our swimming suits since we'd be playing around in the pool our neighbors had in their backyard. When we'd all be together on New Year's Eve, we'd all be wearing the sort of clothes that we'd typically wear to school. The coolness of this seems a bit, well, uncool now as I'm writing it. I suppose it may be one of those things, which, at that age & time was something exciting, & now, as adulthood has set in deep, there's a great perspective shift.

I also remember being concerned the first few times we'd go next door for New Year's Eve. Mom made a "big thing" out of, once the new year rang in, each person you saw, basically as you saw them, you were supposed to greet them accordingly & give them a kiss. This would've been drastically weird. There were roughly thirty adults there, some of whom I didn't even know their connection to the next door neighbors. It seriously freaked me out & made me uncomfortable, though I eventually got used to realizing when I'd look at these people after the clock struck midnight, they'd just smile & continue along, so - so did I. 😊

Nevertheless, also each year, our neighbor would go into her kitchen & the cabinet/cupboard, whatever it was where she kept these, & she'd dig out one for each of us kids, along with one of these for each of us. At least each of us who'd want to stand outside the front door for the first ten to fifteen seconds of the new year to announce it to the rest of the neighborhood, at least those within hearing distance. There's another thing for which I've gained a drastic perspective shift. Oh, the joys of childhood & adolescence - just to be able to "legitimately" make some noise at the stroke of midnight standing outside.

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On Certain Instrumental Tunes

Unlike many radio stations, our house continued to play plenty of Christmas music after Christmas Day. This song is one, where, once I heard it, I felt like it was time for Christmas (like these, I suppose 😉) - Christmas could come - a feeling of completion. ♫ "Me, I want a hula hoop." 🎝 Is a particularly awesome line. 😍😂 It could make my day. Foolish, yes. True, also yes. 😊😂

'Tis a very good thing I can laugh at myself. 😏 Not so much back in those days when our house would be churning out the Christmas tunes clear through Epiphany (beyond? 😎, I didn't keep track; I also wouldn't doubt it either).

I've a soft spot for instrumental, although I don't listen to it with any amount of regularity, I do think that, just as it could be difficult to pick just one of these to "get started", there's quite a few of these as well. When I say, "get started", I mean when there's a promo for the artist, or a buddy (friend or relative, or friend that's a relative 😁) mentions, "Hey, I know about this musical artist...You might want to check out their work..." And then you look up that artist & you're looking at the options available, &, well, you could sift through YouTube & make a "trial & error" out of their work, or ... You could try & pick just one to add to your personal collection. "GL!" as they say in shorthand. (for "good luck" 😊).

Their music sooths me. It makes me feel comfortable like a soft & gentle hug. I first came to know of their music now at Christmastime all those years ago. When I'd hear their Christmas song I'd feel like I got to pick out the music, as if I were asked, "What would you like to hear? Let's put that one on next."

More recently I happened to be watching a morning show (one of the major 7 a.m. networks) & their musical guest that day played this. I think it was just later that day when I bought it for myself. If not, it was likely within the week. Great beat; great spirit; great passion. When I listen to this song I'm feeling the music. I stop what I'm doing & I'm in the music just as someone who loves to sing might stop & put their soul into an instant rendition of a random radio tune.

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Playing Around

These days - that is the ones in between Christmas Day & the day or so following, up until the first business day after New Year's Day - as a kid - they were "free game". No pun intended, though they really were good for playing games. Whichever that Mom & Dad might've wrapped up for us...One year we got this one. It's one that we actually played & enjoyed numerous times as a family. Another would be this. I'd requested it, though I don't think I even realized how much I didn't care that much about it. The only thing we really got out of it was plunking around on the tiny gadget. I got the only "win" from it - correctly identifying this.

Not during our younger years, though I remember Mom had us preparing our spaces for the New Year; she had us cleaning up our rooms.

After fishing around the upstairs hallway linen closet shelves for the cleaning products, my brother began playing music. And loudly so. This music. It was music that the guys he was hanging out with now that he was in college, were listening to. He'd be talking to Mom about the performances when they'd chat enough that Mom decided to wrap up one or two for him under our Christmas tree.

In big brother style he "stirred the pot" & gave me a hard time. He played the music on his bedroom stereo very loudly (& Mom, nor Dad made a move to have him change the volume - yes, they knew I wasn't fond of the scenario 😒).

I remember walking across the upstairs hallway to the spare room where Mom kept her crafting supplies. She was organizing something, or working on finishing something up. I mentioned how my brother was hogging all of the cleaning products & I was ready to take care of my chore. Mom knew what he was doing. The music from across the hall made it difficult for she & I to discuss the point.

Her comment to me was to just wait it out; his bedroom likely had never been cleaner. I pursed my lips & rolled my eyes in pure disappointment as I walked back out of the spare room, & past his room to get to my room as I watched him take the paper towel & wipe down every single millimeter of some apparatus which sat on either his chest of drawers or desk. Ugh. And telling him to "Come on already!" Would mean next to nothing.

These were the antics of those days back then while we'd be on our school breaks. Whether they'd be in elementary school, junior high school, high school, or even college.

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Christmas & The Day After as a Child

And so here we’d be, on the day following Christmas, when as a young girl, I’d have just spent the previous day sitting in the family minivan in my unofficial official seat right behind the driver (which 99% of the time was Dad) being driven around to whichever family member or family friend was next on our list; we’d canvas the larger neighborhood & spend time with at least a half dozen family & family friends over the course of our Christmas afternoon, evening, & night.

Mom explained years after we’d stopped traveling out-of-state for Christmas Day that we’d always spent that day traveling from house to house because it was Grandma’s wish that we’d not remain at her house for the day, nor to have anyone stop by her house to visit on Christmas Day.

Once my brother & I had begun taking lessons we needed these. Mom & Dad had us bring them with us when we visited Grandma for Christmas. That’s how it began. Family & friends heard that we had them with us (Mom & Dad would have us bring them in the car, not leave them at Grandma’s house for the day), & they’d have us go get them so they could listen too. They were really kind & inviting; we really never did sound reasonable, let alone good.

At the end of the day, once we were all fully exhausted & basically falling asleep, we’d retreat back to Grandma’s house so that we could wake up, eat a quick breakfast of eggs, toast, & whatever else might be leftover, before heading back across the state border by around lunchtime at the latest.

This way we’d be back to our house long before dinnertime & be able to enjoy our household gifts at that time. If we were full of energy & the weather was kind, we’d head over to Dad’s mom’s house, maybe even for dinner, if not just for the evening & to exchange gifts with her too. Dad’s sister, who was living downstairs, would stop by with the few boxes she had for us as well. Otherwise, we’d wait & see Dad’s mom on December 27. During this visit is when this would’ve been.

It turned into a lot of traveling & a lot of seeing lots of people, & spending lots of time with everyone. At one family friend’s house a quick “deli buffet” would be set up on their dining table for us to stop & assemble a sandwich of our choosing. They had a few grown daughters who gathered with us & we’d team up to play this. I never cared to play this, especially not solo, as I had to be “hyper-aware” & super paying attention at all times; never letting my guard down. I didn’t care for this on any holiday, particularly not when celebrating Christmas, so I was grateful that these family friends joined & supported us; it served as a great “emotional hug”.

I most remember Christmas, & the following days, as a lot of moving about & being told, “Go here.” “Be there.” “It’s time to get going.” It was, oftentimes, hard to be “in the moment”, & seemed to be a lot of just sitting around waiting. Those were the years for that; that was the age of “the waiting game” & making the most of the conversations & experiences which played out before us. 

On the upside, during one of our “waiting around” visits, at the house where Mom’s best friend grew up, I remember admiring her sister’s handiwork. I’ve never really minded anyone watching me do this; maybe it’s in part due to the generosity this family friend showed me during that Christmastime visit.

Family friends joining in while playing this & making the most of “waiting around time” working up some of this. Lessons in kindness of Christ-like spirit of heart at Christmastime for a lifetime.

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Way Back When Christmas Eve Recently

From before I’d been born our family had headed on a few hours drive from our house to Grandma’s house; that is, Mom’s mother’s house. It was just Grandma living there by then, though many others had, at one time or another, living there too.

I don’t remember all of the details anymore…Anymore than I remember the car rides, which I’d sleep through (click here). We’d get there in enough time to unload what we’d brought for the next two nights (or as they say in these modern days “sleeps”).

Grandma, in her teeny-tiny eat in kitchen would have everything set up in, what became, for this “event”, her very overcrowded teeny-tiny eat in kitchen. Her kitchen could barely hold a table, & yet one for all of us to gather around sufficiently as well as simultaneously. Fortunately, the table was oval in shape, so its circular-ness provided assistance in lessening our bumping into one another. 

The table would hold a ceramic dish which had two sides. One side was for whole kernel corn; the other side was for peas. A very dear family friend made, in super large batch annually, bobalki, which Grandma would receive a certain portion of that would be cooked up & served at this Christmas Eve meal; its presence would be in another nearby bowl. There’d be a dish of unshelled nuts as well as sweets (typically these) as well as about a dozen homemade Christmas cookies. 

The “main dish” would be salmon patties. That’s because we’d not be eating meat on Christmas Eve. The tradition remained long after my uncle’s days of gathering around this table, though salmon patties were the only type of fish that Mom’s brother was willing to eat, therefore it’s the type that Grandma came to prepare for this meal; it’d become habitual.

There’d be a candle, the family Christmas candle, which would be pulled out from a safe space since its last use & be lit from our saying grace (a special, Christmas Eve version where additional thanks for the special highlights of the year would be mentioned, as well as a quick, piercing reminder of anyone we’d lost in the family, simply by mentioning their names).

Everyone, while wearing these, (& not these, nor these 😂), would remain at the table together until the last person had finished their last bite. The symbolism was in that we were showing gratitude (First World Country type of thing, perhaps?) that we had these which we could be wearing. (I managed to always be finishing my plate last since I ate super slowly, though not on purpose.) At that time the candle would be blown out.

*****

In later years, after Dad’s sister died & we began spending our entire Christmas break in the region where we lived, & sleeping in our own beds each night, this Christmas Eve dinner continued on with Mom overseeing its many detailed traditions beyond that which is written here. At this point, as Dad & I have favored eating seafood through the years, we'd enjoy salmon fillets; ordinary frozen fish sticks were available for everyone else.

As we kids were a bit older at this time, gifts would be waiting for us underneath the Christmas tree already & I’d get so excited & anticipatory that, as I’d learn years later, Mom almost folded & asked Dad a few separate years if he’d be fine with my opening just one of my gifts on Christmas Eve. It was always a “no go” from Dad. Big bummer.

One thing we could count on was knowing that we could turn on the television & from 8 p.m. until 11 p.m. (if we’d not yet fallen asleep 😏) this movie would be airing on a major network.

It became my favorite movie. One that, since it’d never been gifted to me as a DVD, I recently finally treated myself to…Another movie which has its themes set in these days of the year, would be this one…It’s another which I’ve watched more times than is healthy 😄, & its commentary too, I’ve seen/listened to many a time more than I’m probably meant to.

I particularly slowed down this movie & paused it on the commentary a time or two because, toward the beginning, in - maybe the second or third scene - the commentators pointed out a “nod to NPR” which I never noticed on my own;. Once I paused & paid that much more attention, I agree, it’s there.

What I did notice on my own is that this movie’s title speaks four-fold in the storyline. The commentators do not discuss this, leading my curiosity to consider that they may’ve never picked up on this genius within the writing details of this movie on which they worked. This sort of thing leaves me feeling particularly clever.

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Mysteriousness at Christmas

After that year when Mom concocted our names to be translated, something else rocked our boats; well, at least mine.

I believe it came into our house wrapping a gift someone gave to us, Mom just held onto it (as she so often does) for our family's continued future use.

Even though being the first to open a gift is awesome & fun, so is happening to have the last gift to open. ...Unless that is, there's a mystery gift wrapped too.

Then no one knows what's what. Which, at least for me, leads to major disappointment.

See, what this bag became known as was the "mystery gift bag". And to whomever its contents happened to be for, that's who would be opening the "last gift of the year" that Christmas, at least in our living room. This bag seemed to be assembled of a few of these attached together. One for the base, then three or four more with their base's removed affixed with tape or glue into place & then with a standard wrapping paper overtop all of it, unifying it, creating a complete look. The bag's top would merely need to be folded down, just as a brown lunch bag would be in order to maintain its contents in a simple manner, although in large style because of the bag's general enormity, thus likely why this make-shift bag had been designed with a few additional full-sized grocery bags...And also likely to add to the "reaching in the bag" distance, wonder, & excitement.

Although the year that the mystery bag was presented it wasn't wrapped in a gift for me, at least once during its "tenure" it did hold a gift for me. And in the course of "it's better to give than to receive", yes, in fact, the most memorable year I've of this mystery gift bag happens to be the year I asked Mom that I might be able to use the bag to wrap a special gift.

It wasn't hard to explain or "convince" her since she knew all about the gift I intended to wrap in the bag; she'd helped with the idea for the gift too, or at least to encourage me to make the gift.

This was around the time that Mom & Dad had gotten a lot of home improvements completed. One of those improvements was building a workshop (not a "man cave" 😏). Because of this, Dad had a place we could gently decorate. Somewhere Mom had come across a clock, like this one. One that was basically designed for such a purpose.

As one of Mom's main crafts being cross-stitch, we'd found one of these which featured workshop tools. It seemed to be just the right challenge for me to make for Dad to display in his workshop. And, because of it being so special, handmade & all, though not handmade in a child-like way 😎, as well as it ideally fitting like a glove into the mystery bag, Mom & I decided, for that Christmas, this cross-stitch workshop theme masterpiece was meant to be gifted to Dad via the mystery gift bag.

And so it was.

What I also learned that Christmas was something I already knew, though experienced for myself for the first time. It's an adolescent discovery. (& I was an adolescent at the time!) It was about blemishes; mistakes, if you will. See, there was a spot in that cross-stitch project, in the shading of the clamps. They were blue, though for where the light was indicating to hit them, that was to be a slightly darker floss number. Unfortunately, as I was following the pattern & paying attention (or, because of this thought, not really paying attention!), I happened to incorporate a large enough number of these shading accent stitches incorrectly. Once I realized my mishap I also realized how time consuming & generally difficult it would be to mend this, not-that-noticeable flaw. I might also create more of a flaw in yanking the floss from this encouraging the holes to enlarge against my will.

I wrapped the completed project in the mystery gift bag & got the delight of telling him that the gift bag was his to open that year. And then to watch him open it & see the hand work I did to display in his workshop where he did plenty of his own hand work. I left the "tone" stitching flaw in the project. It's been there to this day.

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"From" & "To"

What I remember first from that year is my brother going back inside the house after Mom had turned to us & said, as she'd said each year prior, "Go ahead & get in the car. I'm going to call Grandma & tell her we're on our way."

Something told me to stay in the car; some force kept me in the car that year even though he'd gone back inside, something he'd never "rebelled" & done in years past.

I'm glad I did.

He'd gone back inside to "help out".

What I'd learn two days later was that Mom & Dad's "routine", those Christmas' before, had been to call Grandma & tell her we were on our way - though that part wrapped up (no pun intended! 😁) really quickly, then to quickly put all of the gifts for us kids & for each other (Mom & Dad, that is) underneath & around the Christmas tree.

As with most everything, my parents gave my brother the explanation one year before they discussed it with me. Even though they let him stay inside (they probably also had him on high alert in case I ended up following suit & coming back inside too) to help arrange everything under & around the tree, they did give me my singular moment where they broke it down for me & explained what "From Santa" meant in our household whenever I'd see it on one of these.

Since that time I've read better versions, though in the grand scheme of things, & knowing my parents' history of "explaining 'life' things", I've got to give them their due cred; they earned it. On this, their method worked well.

It also took our family into a new phase for the next few years; maybe it was just the following year.

Mom wanted to keep the "process" of our family unwrapping our gifts exciting & unknown. It took Dad until many years later to kick in & really help out with wrapping the family gifts...He'd typically only wrap those which he'd picked out for Mom...& on those he'd typically pre-fill out a bunch (these are the type we'd have around to use) with their respective names in the "To" & "From" fields...So there Mom was filling out every name tag.

She decided to get creative. She came up with a system. The system consisted of coding our names when she wrote them down. This way whenever we'd reach for the next gift underneath the tree, we wouldn't instantly know who's gift it was, & therefore elongate & enjoy the gift giving exchange a bit more among those under our roof (grandparents weren't included in this).

Her coding, which I took the longest to decode (because I wasn't really thinking about it!) was to number Dad's gifts "No. 1", "No. 2", "No. 3", etc., in so that his name was effectively the number of the gift she'd wrapped for him. And for each of us kids, a different amount of stars was written in the "To" field. I believe mine had five stars written in the "To" field on the name tag of each gift. Each gift's "From" field read "Mom & Dad" in so that as not to tip off which were Dad's, his therefore technically read that they were "From" him & "To" him, even though incognito.

The idea did work well & it did serve as a great segue between these younger years while we grew into our tween & adolescent years.

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Late December Birthdays & Duplicate Gifts

When Dad's talked about it, he's explained that Grandma didn't care for her birthday any longer, not because, it being one week before Christmas Day, it'd get lost in the Advent season & Christmas preparation - rather, because, on separate years, both her mother & one of her brothers died on her birthday.

Apparently having me as her only granddaughter didn't win over & heal her heart. 😂 It's not a laughing matter; it really isn't. I can say that, even at her birthday & when we'd visit for Christmas (where we spent our youngest years with our other Grandma on Christmas Day), she'd be quite happy, content, & pleased to see us & be with us.

Since Dad entered her world as menopause knocked on her door, & Dad didn't marry & have a family of his own until he entered his 30s, Grandma waited around quite a few decades to be able to say she had a granddaughter.

Memories of Grandma include things that are her favorite color: pink, & finding these & these stored in these & kept in the bottom of one of these, which Grandma had in the corner of her eat-in kitchen, which had previously been a bedroom; Dad's - to be exact.

Before the era of Grandma having grandchildren, the house she lived in had been built as a single-family house. In the general idea of these things, it had remained a single-family house - with one front door which opened to a living room with a staircase just a few feet ahead leading to the second floor & to the finished attic, which was also a bedroom.

The difference was, at a certain point in the cycle of life, this house, that our ancestors had built by hand for themselves, changed from simply having a basic setup for one family, to having a setup for two families, rather two generations, which could amicably & trustingly, live together, yet separately, under the same lock & key.

And so the change remained into the decades of my youth where the room Dad had spent his childhood growing up in, studying in, etc., had now become a room with a kitchen sink, a standard-sized kitchen counter, kitchen cabinets, a stove, & a full-sized refrigerator/freezer - with a table large enough for six people to comfortable dine sitting in the middle & just enough space for everyone to also back up their chairs when they needed to sit down & stand back up. It was in the corner of this room, opposite the refrigerator, that this sat. It was the corner nearest the doorway from where we'd enter, so we'd be able to reach inside on our way into the room, formerly Grandma & Grandpa's bedroom (& the exact spot of where Dad was born 😮), now Grandma's living room, where we'd gather with her before we'd eat.

There had been a section nearby where the television stand sat that I'd often scooch in the corner of with these. Grandma never complained that I'd keep to myself on the side of the room, she'd simply look at my layout from time to time before checking on things in the kitchen. This little section off in the corner also happened to be where I was sitting as I unwrapped my gifts from Grandma one particular Christmas.

I'd say I was in about my mid-elementary years, & Mom, not wanting to ruin either her mother-in-law's Christmas with her grandkids, nor her own daughter's Christmas with her paternal grandmother, briefly mentioned on the car ride back after Christmas Day (when I'd opened a gift from an aunt, who is also my Godmother) that, should we kids happen to open any gifts which appeared to be, or definitely were, the same as one which we'd recently received, we should receive the gift just as we would had we not just received said gift. Mom would work with us to fix what we saw as an "extra of the same gift" later. And honestly, Mom's wording & explanation were such that, the way this is written here, isn't giving her talent-in-the-moment due justice; she spoke much more eloquently (or, I was just that young, innocent, & naïve - or both 😉😂).

See, we lived locally to Dad's mom; Mom's mother lived a few hours away, across a state border. Dad's mom never learned to drive. What Mom began doing, once we kids were born, would be to purchase a selection of items, drive over to where Grandma lived a few neighborhoods away from us, & set up on her bed, which was just next to her living room, the items Mom had found that she knew would both fit us kids (in the case of clothing) & that we'd like & would actually play with (in the case of toys, etc.). Grandma would basically "shop" atop her bed as if it were a store counter; this system worked for years.

It is also because of this system that Mom knew in advance that one of us would soon be opening a gift that we'd just opened as gifted to us by someone else; it was me. It was one of these.

So there I was sitting in that corner of Grandma's old bedroom-turned-living-room, opening up the gifts she'd picked out that year, (we kids hadn't yet learned about Mom & Grandma's "'atop-the-bed' shopping arrangement") & there it was. I remember opening it. I remember looking at it, thinking to myself, "Hey, Mom was sayin'..." And I looked up, sort of toward Grandma, yet truly toward Mom (though, fortunately, Mom was sitting just past Grandma, so it was basically a 'wash') & I was wearing a smile that said, "Hey, check it out..." while my head was sort of spinning in a child-like haze.

I'm sure I definitely appeared to be more satisfied than not-so-much, so Grandma's heart still swelled with contentment & satisfaction. And later on, maybe days later, maybe weeks later, as Mom worked to correct the duplication, she explained to me about what had happened.

Those days of childhood, those days of running around, being told where to be, where to go, what to do, & how to be, they seem to us as children to be such a burden, to be so "fixed", unnatural, busy, & unrelaxed. In many ways they are, yet they can be so fulfilling too. They are the days of gifts; of giving & receiving, of cherishing moments, memories, & special occasions. They are the days when "duplicate gifts" are made possible.

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The "Little People"

Mom & Dad had received an analog wall clock as one of their wedding gifts. It was black & white & had an hourly chime with a swinging black medallion at its base. It was vertical & rectangular & hung from the wall against the side of the house at the foot of the staircase leading to the second floor from the entryway foyer. It hung in a frame which perplexed me as a child.

The walls of the house were plastered in a swirl with a cream, or off-white paint color. As a child I'd considered this clock to be two pieces. One which was the actual timing device, where the Roman numerals were painted; the other, the long, vertical, simple, black frame.

I'd understood this clock incorrectly. The "two pieces" as I'd understood them to be were attached with a white-colored piece - which had no "swirl" in it because it wasn't plaster (😎😂).

It was because of our decorating at Christmas that I came to understand this clock. It wasn't that it was "off limits" throughout the rest of the year; I'd pass it many times throughout the day to get from the bedrooms (all of which were located on the second floor), to the main floor beginning at the foyer, or even to the basement & outside.

This clock wasn't something I ever found myself pondering less I was decorating it or sitting ten plus feet across from it - through the foyer - in the living room, which is where I sat while I concocted my disillusioned concept of the clock as two pieces rather than the one that it is.

By happenchance we began placing particular ornaments atop this clock, more specifically, atop the clock's frame. The ornaments which found their way to that frame's top were what we deemed the "Little People". There were a few others, such as a snowman & a Christmas tree, which where of the same make & mold, so they were affixed in place atop the frame alongside these "people", which were little ornament Christmas carolers.

There were roughly half a dozen figures in total. I remember them being about 2" high, unlike those in the image link, which are 1-1/4" high. Click this link for other varieties of these sets. Kurt Adler seems to be a modern day popular artist of these. This set is similar to the one we had as well, though there are no "Little People"/carolers included.

Somewhere during the subsequent years, placing these "Little People" atop that clock's frame created a finality within me; I'd feel decorated. Christmas was definitely coming; I was ready. I'd actually sigh a deep breath. And with the innocence of someone of my age at the time, I'd wear a smile & feel contentment I can only work toward at my age today.

When I moved out Mom made sure I took our set of "Little People" with me in so that I could still feel that feeling of completion; that Christmas surely was on its way.

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