Tom's Christmas Message - 2016

Thank goodness "someone" is writing a post for this blog. Merry Christmas from Tom and all of the Jones family.

My Brother, Tom's, Christmas Message 2015

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Tom's Annual Christmas Message

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Tom's Annual Christmas Story

My brother, Tom, writes a Christmas story for his company's newsletter each year. Last year I shared several years of newsletters on this blog throughout December. On this Christmas Eve 2012, I want to share this year's contribution. Merry Christmas from all of the Joneses . . . and thanks, Tom.

Real Meaning of Christmas

This post is the second in a series of posts written by my brother, Tom.  They will be posted throughout the month of December.

Elf from Shillito Window 

I was in the fall of my early grade school years when it was confirmed, about Santa Clause that is.  I had easily figured out the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny but Santa was big step and after all, I wanted to believe!  But undeniable evidence came one afternoon walking home from school with two of my buddies.  Ted Middleburg and Tom Forte were two of the coolest guys in my class and they were talking about the new kid in school, they didn’t like him.  As they elevated their status by putting down the new kid it happened!  “He’s so stupid he still believes in Santa Clause”.  Ouch!  There it was independent confirmation.

As one of the oldest of 7 Jones kids, I had a sacred trust to keep this discovery top secret.  My older sister verified this fact and told me she had kept it from me not wishing to ruin my fun.  She had found Christmas presents in the attic a couple of years earlier and had filled in the blanks.  Was I the only one who had been so slow to realize? 

Crowd Outside of a Shillito Department Store Christmas Window, 1970

With five younger siblings, my sister and I doubled our effort to continue the childhood fantasy for them.  Like actors in a B movie, we took it upon ourselves to explain the multiple Santa Clause’s in the stores at Christmas.  We became experts in identifying the “real Santa” as opposed to his helpers.  “Is that the real Santa?”  my brothers would ask, no, that’s one of his helpers, the real Santa is in Candy Land at Shillitos I would explain.  We even went as far as pressing my father’s boot into the fireplace ashes on Christmas Eve in order to eagerly point to the footprints on Christmas morning.

Mark Jones and Santa

Years later while Christmas shopping with my young family my son Mark looked at me and announced “Dad, I know Santa is really you and Mom”.  I confirmed his suspicion and quickly cautioned him to keep it a secret so that he would not ruin it for his younger sister.  Something happened, Mark dropped his head and he lost the sparkle in his eyes, you see, right then he still wanted believe in Santa, he needed me to keep the dream alive just a little longer he was not quite ready to have dad put it to rest so quickly.  That night as I tucked him into bed, he looked at me and asked, “Dad is Jesus real?”  I was heartsick!  In a matter of moments I had ruined the childhood fantasy I worked so hard to keep alive in my siblings years earlier and caused my son to question the real meaning of Christmas, the Birth of the Savior. 

Mark is grown now and we both have become wiser.  We can walk through the mall at Christmas and identify the “real Santa” from his helpers.  And we know without a doubt that the angles were right when they announced to the shepherds 2000 years ago “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people.  Today in the city of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord”.

Photo Credits:  The two pictures from the Shillito Christmas Windows were found using google images.  I could not establish copyright.

'Tis the Season - The Christmas Gift

Tom Jones
Guest Blogger

Let me introduce you to my brother, Tom. I think he is a "closet" blogger. He is the President of Bryan Equipment Co. here in Cincinnati, a distributor of Stihl Chain Saws and related products.

For the past decade, Tom has written a Christmas letter that has been published on the cover of the company newsletter reflecting on the meaning of Christmas. Of course I've been a fan as he often refers to memories I have of growing up in a special family.

From now until Christmas, Tom's annual letters will appear in this space. In a couple of cases I will take the liberty to insert pictures from Christmases past of the Jones Family.

So have a cup of hot chocolate and enjoy!

One Year in early adolescence, it happened!  I discovered where my parents hid the Christmas gifts that they had accumulated throughout the fall in anticipation of that great morning.  I was the second oldest of seven children and our suburban home was modest. There just weren’t any hiding places that “the kids” could not find, but somehow my parents managed to keep this place a secret.  I suspect dad set the location as he was an expert at this and other tricks; like hiding Easter baskets in impossible locations behind the shower curtain suspended from a clothes hanger up high, just for sheer orneriness.

For a few days I delighted in the knowledge of the hiding place and was very careful to distract the site from my younger brothers and sister as they still believed in Santa.  Of course I could not tell my older sister, because she would tell Mom and Dad.  Day after day I would peek just to be sure the gifts were still there and would be surprised to see that the stack had grown, almost magically.  I was on lookout now, like an Indian Scout, and it became clear that my parents had become experts at this scheme.
 

Photo Credit: boyscoutstore.com

In the irksome boredom of the days just before Christmas when youthful anxiety makes you feel like you could scream, I gave into temptation and carefully peeled back the tape on the shopping bags containing the gifts.  Before long, I had experienced my own Christmas morning beforehand alone in the attic room.  It sure felt hollow but there was one overwhelming satisfaction.  The Boy Scout ax, the good one with the sure fit handle, was there in my stack of gifts.  There was nothing else in the world I wanted more than that ax! 

Christmas Eve was a bit of a let down, the anticipation was gone.  Sure I was excited for my brothers and sisters, a lot of the gifts they had their hearts set on were going to arrive by sleigh but my surprise was over, or was it?  Christmas morning, we all flooded into mom and dad’s bedroom at the appointed time, not before 7:00 AM were our instructions.  As we ripped through the gifts, something was wrong.  The items that I had seen were there, the new sweater, shirt, socks, and pants were all there YUK! But were was that ax?  I couldn’t say anything yet I knew it was missing.  I scoured the empty boxes and wrapping paper in a panic, but could not find the missing treasure, it was gone.  Later that morning my father pulled me aside and explained “Tom, I know that you went through the gifts in the attic and your mother and I discussed it and decided to return the ax that we had purchased for you.  You have many other gifts that you should be happy with but we both felt that we needed to teach you a lesson.” 

It has been more than 40 years since that Christmas morning.  And I thank God for my parents and the integrity they instilled in me and all of my brothers and sisters really that was their greatest gift.  They also taught us the true meaning of Christmas that is the gift that God has given us in his Son.   I am also glad that the scripture tells us that “God's gifts and his call are irrevocable.” Romans 11:29

First Five Jones Kids:  Kath, Karen, Tim, Tom (the author) and Ted

Tom's Birthday -- My Irish Twin

It's Tom's Birthday! It's that time of the year when for three weeks just this side of spring that we are the same age. My mother used to say that we were "Irish twins" -- a term used for siblings born less than 12 months apart. There was no time in my life that I don't remember Tom being a part of it.

In a comment to a post about another family birthday, Tom's daughter, Melissa, asked, "Was my Dad ever a kid?" That's what happens when you are one of the "big kids." All family pictures show you as older than everyone else. So I tried to take up Melissa's challenge and see if I could find pictures of her Dad as a kid.

Tom

The pictures in the collage at the top of the page include one of my favorites of Tom and I sitting on the steps of our Grandmother's house in Wyoming.  The other picture was "clipped" from a family movie.  Tom is parading in on Easter Sunday with his cousins, Chuck and Bill.  I was also able to crop a picture of Tom as a little boy from another family picture.



Dogs were always a part of our growing up.  T-Bone was one of the dogs of our youth.   Here he is pictured with Tim and Tom.

As an adult, Tom has loved and owned horses. Pictured is Tom on a horse on a family vacation to the apple orchard home of the Crowell's in Carbondale, Illinois. Mary Davis Crowell was one of Mom's best childhood friends.

I don't know where to draw the line.  My goal is to share some pictures that I'm sure most of my siblings have never seen.  So let me add a couple more.

I had forgotten that Tim and Tom played on Kiwanis Little League baseball teams. The picture almost looks like everyone was told to stand at attention.

Let me complete this birthday tribute with one of my favorite pictures. Tom has never been able to escape his role as the big brother -- thankfully for all of us, it's been a role he's always played well. I think I can speak for all of us when I say, "Happy birthday, Tom and we LOVE you."

Kath