Christmas Oranges

A few years ago, when Macey first got a Christmas stocking at our house, she was puzzled by the extra large orange in the toe of the stocking.  "An orange?" she asked quizzically.  That got me to thinking about the tradition we have in our family about putting oranges in Christmas stockings, and I wanted to write it down.

When I was a kid, stockings hung on the wrought iron divider between the living room and dining room.  Initially they were the traditional red and white fur ones, our names written on them with glitter glue by Mom so we could tell them apart.  Eventually we each got striped ones.  Mine was red, white, and green.  I still have both.

Stockings were always an afterthought for us kids in our Christmas toy frenzy.  We'd be so busy playing with all the goodies Santa brought that we wouldn't even think about the stockings.  Midway through the morning, one of us would remember: Stockings! and we would sprint towards them, hanging off the wrought iron, stuffed with goodies.  Sometimes I would remember before my sisters, but I wouldn't say anything because having those stuffed stockings hanging there kept Christmas going just a little bit longer.

They were filled with chocolate Santas and foil Christmas bells and candy canes. Hershey Kisses and Rolos. Sometimes small toys like those water games with the rings that you try to get on the little pegs or the Wooly Willy with the metal shavings that you could use to give him hair or a beard.  Sometimes we got Tinker Bell nail polish or Dr. Pepper flavored lip balm.  There was always a handful of nuts in the shell (Almonds were the best. Brazil nuts the worst.  Who can crack those shells anyway???)  At the bottom of the stocking was a giant red apple and a softball sized orange.  Mom told us they were so big because they came from the North Pole.  The fact that apples and oranges don't grow that far north not being an issue because, well, Santa.

We always knew we were at the end of the stocking when we got to the fruit.  It always tasted just a little bit sweeter than usual, and I liked to keep mine in my stocking so I could eat my North Pole fruit on my own time, savoring each delicious bite.

When I became a mom, I continued the North Pole apple and oranges but not the nuts.  I would go to Kroger a day or two before Christmas Eve and look for the biggest most perfect specimens I could find and hide them away until the big night.  I continued the story of how they came from the North Pole with my kids, and they always looked forward to eating fruit from Santa.  Eventually, oranges became the only fruit put in the stockings.  Still big, bright, and blemish-free.  

My mom was born in 1939, so figuring that her family got fruit from Santa, this is nearly a 100-year old tradition.

When I got to thinking about why we put fruit in our stockings, I thought about how Mom didn't have the luxury of year-round oranges when she was a girl.  Citrus was a seasonal fruit back then and also fairly pricey, especially for her mom who was a widow with 7 kids.  It would have been a real treat to get an orange and some nuts and candy in her stocking.  My dad, who grew up in a more well-off family, also got fruit in his stocking.  He loved tangerines, and his sister told me the other day that they always got a tangerine in their stocking.  

So we continue this tradition, whose meaning, like many traditions, may one day be lost to time.  I give my kids oranges because my mom gave us oranges because her mom gave her oranges...I hope this will continue on into the next generation because those North Pole oranges are just so much sweeter than regular ones.