“Ma asked if they were sure the stockings were empty. They put their arms down inside them to make sure. And in the very toe of each stocking was a shining bright, new penny! They had never even thought of such a thing as having a penny. Think of having a cup and a cake and a stick of candy and a penny. There had never been such a Christmas.” – From Laura Ingalls Wilder’s “Little House on the Prairie”

We know how you are. If that television that waits under your Christmas tree is anything less than 60 inches, you will whine until spring.

You want the Nexus 7 this year and if the wife doesn’t get you the newest Wii, it’s divorce time. And who can blame you? You deserve all these things and more. And anyway, isn’t that what Christmas is all about? Magnificent gifts with big price tags?

We’re not saying you should hang your head in shame or anything, but it’s come to our attention that Christmas wasn’t always this way. Old-timers will tell you about day when a kid was perfectly happy with an orange and a wooden top in the toe of his or her Christmas stocking. There was a time when hand-carved dolls and knit mittens would have elicited shrieks of glee from unspoiled children who never expected such riches.

These days? Try getting away with giving such simple gifts and you will be flogged with a Yule log and shunned from the family. As people, we have prospered over the generations and with prosperity comes higher expectations. We don’t want just a few simple items under the tree; we want gifts stacked higher than the star at the top of the tree. A new wardrobe, the latest phone and maybe a few gift cards would be a good start, but surely there is more.

Yet in spite of what has become a tradition of greed, it’s the simple trinkets that shine like the North Star in our memories. You may have gotten a Blu-ray disc player and the newest Kindle under the tree last year, but, somehow, those things can’t compete with the Stretch Armstrong, the Lite-Brite or the Spirograph you tore open as an 8-year-old. Kids don’t pay attention to trends and prices. They just know what they want and if Santa happens to deliver, the euphoria cannot be described. Surprises are even better. Getting a bicycle with the optional horn when you were expecting nothing more than underwear and crayons? That’s heaven. It’s something you will remember over decades as the holiday continues to morph.

And that’s the end of the guilt trip. What follows are the stories of people young and old who remember that very special gift from bygone years. Some of these memories have endured nearly three-quarters of a century and almost none pay  attention at all to silly things like price, RAM or SD card capacity. They are gifts that brought joy, and to the owners of these memories, that’s what matters the most.

Donna Yates, Leeds

My special Christmas gift didn’t come wrapped in a box with Christmas wrap and a beautiful bow on it. It came in a Christmas stocking that had been hung on my bed with tender loving care and eager anticipation by a child full of Christmas hopes and dreams!

I don’t remember how old I was, but this was during the 1940s. I was at an age when my head was full , not of sugar plums dancing, but of Santa delivering Christmas presents to good boys and girls and reindeer pulling his sleigh!

The excitement that filled my head several days before the “Big Day” was so much, I thought I’d burst! I didn’t know how I was going to make it until Christmas Eve.

I admired our family Christmas tree every day. I would even lie under it often, taking in the odor of the pine boughs made more pronounced by the hot Christmas lights. My little fingers would poke and fondle presents already under the tree, wondering what was inside! What a magical time of year for me!

Christmas Eve finally arrived. My mom helped me hang my stocking on my bed post and tucked me into bed under the warm covers. I was tingling with excitement at the thought of the next day!

I fell asleep after a while, and woke up in the middle of the night. “Had Santa come yet?” I wondered. I was positive I’d heard reindeer hooves on our roof earlier! But, what if Santa was in the process of filling my stocking and would be angry at me for being awake. I slowly raised my arm up toward where my stocking had been hung. IT WAS FULL! I was so happy as I managed to reach for the string hanging down from the ceiling light in my bedroom. I pulled on the light and carefully got my stocking down.

I don’t remember much of what was in my stocking that year except for a very special gift . . . a plastic, green pen with Rudolph’s head and bright red nose on top! I fell right in love with that pen and felt so special that Santa had brought it to me. It had to have come from his workshop! I used that pen every day until the ink was used up.

My Rudolph pen got lost throughout the years amidst things I accumulated as I aged, but the memory of it never faded. It didn’t come wrapped in a neatly wrapped package, but it was my most cherished gift of a Christmas past!

Barbara MacGregor, Rumford

My husband, Sandy, wed me in May 1979. That summer we were employed as gatekeepers at Katahdin Ironworks in Brownville Junction. On my birthday in July he left to bring my brother Mike back to Bangor and to buy me a present. When they went by a “beagles for sale” sign, he asked Mike, “Do you thing think Barbara would like a beagle puppy?” My brother replied, “Oh, sure. They’re cute.” (My mother later wrote in a note to me, “Who’s the puppy for, Barbara or Sandy.”)

Then, for Christmas he bought me the ideal gift: a double-barrel 20-gauge shotgun. Now my mother and sisters were totally disgusted. My father and brother thought it was great. With that $7 beagle and my shotgun (named Sting,) we enjoyed many Saturdays finding rabbits. I eventually shot a deer with that gun as well. That shotgun will last more than my lifetime, and was the first weapon I ever owned.

Josh Shea, Auburn

The best Christmas gift I ever got was the Atari 2600 video game system. For whatever reason — and I think it was just to throw us off their trail — my brother and I thought there was no way we’d ever get one. My school-teacher parents, in my mind, were antivideo game. Maybe they were just good actors. The gift came when I was 8 or 9, right at the height of the Pac-Man craze in the early ’80s. Opening that package with my brother and seeing that it was actually this unattainable item was one of the greatest joys in my life. Somewhere, there’s a photo and it looks like someone set me on fire. It was a genuine surprise, and while the graphics would make kids today laugh, it’s one of those things I’ll never forget getting and wish I still had today.

Jane B. Theriault, Lewiston

The year was 1935. My sister was 3 years old and I was 8. Everybody was preparing for Christmas. We were not poor, nor rich, just an average family with basic needs. Christmas Eve, Mom and Dad were in our small living room trimming the Christmas tree. We could never see the decorations until Christmas morning after Mass, so they had put a sheet over the glass door that led to the living room. My little sister and I looked at the door with anticipation. We couldn’t sleep.

The next morning, we awoke with a lot of commotion in the kitchen. We ran out to see what was happening. In those days, we had a wood stove and the fire was up the funnel. Mom took a box of salt and threw it on the back burner. Finally the fire settled down. The door to the living room was open, but we were so scared that we never noticed the open door. We could have gone to look at the tree, but mom told us to get ready for church. In the meantime, Dad closed the door.

After church, we went to sit next to the tree. To our amazement, Dad had brought a cardboard fireplace, which was set in the corner. How excited we were.  . . . I don’t remember Mom and Dad exchanging gifts. I think there was only enough money for my sister and I.

My sister got a small carriage with a doll that looked like a real baby. I got a yellow crib that looked like what the babies have today and a great big doll made of cloth, but the head was plaster with beautiful eyes that opened and shut. When the excitement calmed down, my Dad put his hand in the fireplace and pulled out a beautiful wrapped box. He handed it to my mother and said in French: “This is for you, Cherie.” It was a lovely woolen bathrobe, blue and red. Mom cried and so did I.

Aside from the fire, it was the most memorable Christmas of my life. I’ve had many since, but not as precious as that one.

Ruth A. Hiltz, Lewiston

I am a senior citizen, 90 years old, and I invite you to go back in the memory of an 8-year-old girl named Ruth at Christmastime on a big, beautiful farm in South Livermore.

No electricity – lanterns, lamps and candles were our lights. We decorated so beautiful, homemade decorations for all special days. Santa? You bet ya! Jesus’s birth, so special.

It was Christmas Eve. We five kids sat on the floor of our dining room, waiting for Santa to come. My brother Bert, who worked for Snow’s (for) many years, came in and said “the sleigh and reindeer are on the roof;” and of course, we could hear them!

My oldest sister, Edith, who wrote Livermore news for the Lewiston Daily Sun, did everything to make it real. Tree was decorated, thread spools with a little candle in each window. Beautiful. Edith made a mistake and opened the door to the sitting room where the tree was and there he was, putting presents on the tree. Yep. He drank the hot chocolate and ate all the cookies, even left us a letter.

When the presents were given out there was a big box for my sister Alta and I. With excitement, we tore the paper off and opened the box. And there was the most beautiful big doll – porcelain head, no hair, no rolling eyes, a straw body and no shoes. Edith had made a dress from the colored, printed grain bags Papa bought his grain in for the cows, etc.

Oh, what a Christmas: Candles, tree, Santa, reindeer. Did I believe in Santa? Oh, yes! Then, years later, I learned that my Santa was our beautiful neighbor Anna Boothby!

 C. M. Primozich, Norway

X-mas, as a kid, age 5 or 6, plus a brother 9 or 10. Not much money. Parents very practical. Two aunts, not married, had money and came on X-mas morning. Always brought great toys. We got two pump shotguns that shot ping-pong balls. We could load up to 12 at a time and shoot until they were gone. Played with them until we wore them out – maybe seven to ten days. Then they disappeared with mom throwing them out. Aunts got us lots of good stuff over the years.  . . . We drove everyone that came to the house crazy with them.

Carol Wyse-Ricker

It was the year 1993 that tennis bracelets were a big hit with all the women. So for Christmas that year I let my sons (and) boyfriend know that I really really wanted a tennis bracelet. Christmas morning my family gathered at my house and my oldest son handed me a box to open first. I opened the box to find three tennis balls tied together with elastic. Having this mystified look on my face wondering what it was suppose to be, my son looked at me and said, “Mom didn’t you say you wanted a tennis bracelet?” Everyone starting laughing. I wore the bracelet to other functions that we were going to that day to show off my handmade tennis bracelet.

Wish I had a picture to show you but I don’t. I did not get a REAL tennis bracelet that year for Christmas, so I ended up buying one the following year.

Marylyn R. Bachelder, Strong

I met my husband-to-be in October of 1949 and we became a couple – “going together” – but didn’t get engaged until Valentine’s 1950. At my family Christmas tree, I received a plush box (too large to be a ring and too early for one). It held a necklace, with stones of my favorite color, blue. The stones were like moon stones (no one ever said).

I’d never had such a nice necklace. I was a member and officer in the Order of the Eastern Star and an adviser in the Order of Rainbow for Girls. I wore the necklace to my brother’s wedding in Wellsley, Mass., in 1964. When I went to pack my suitcase to go home, someone had been in my locked room and had broken off the stone on the point. I last saw it in my trailer home in the early 2000s. Then it was gone before . . . moving here.

I treasured it because it was Don’s first gift to me (besides his love). He died of lung cancer in 1993. The last Christmas and birthday gifts he gave me were stolen, too. Thank God no one can take away our good memories.

Jacqueline York, Litchfield

My dad was a carpenter and worked all the time, but with a wife and 10 kids to support, it was difficult enough to feed us and keep a roof over our heads, so our Christmases were not top priority.

One year we each had one wrapped gift — a pair of underpants. I don’t remember being too bothered by it, maybe because everyone who lived on our street had big families in the “same boat. ” I guess my mother was, though. She cried a lot that morning. I didn’t figure that out until I was older.

The year I was 7 or 8, my Dad started around October telling us not to go down cellar as he had a gorilla down there that he was taking care of for a fellow. We believed him, but couldn’t stand the thought of not trying to see it. My sister Elaine and I, joined at the hip, kept trying, but were scared to death it was real, and somehow Dad was going to find out. We thought we could hear it growl when we got halfway down the stairs. We were outta there fast. We were so glad that we didn’t see the gorilla.

Under the tree on Christmas morning was a beautiful large square children’s table and four chairs made by my father. It was painted grey with red trim. The very best gift any kid could get or any four. He also made the three older girls jewelry boxes with heart-shaped mirrors on the back, also painted grey with red trim. So, I guess that was all the paint he had, probably left over from another project at work. I don’t remember what the other four kids received. I am 75 years old now and lucky I remember that much.

Jean Ferrari, New Vineyard

It was a small, cozy bungalow in Auburn that was home to a post-Depression family. The year was 1937. Mama was a stay-at-home mom with three daughters aged 6, 4 and 2. Daddy was fortunate to have a job at the Lewiston Gas Company. Money was tight and barely covered the bare essentials. I was only 6 but aware of the circumstances and understood the saying: “Use it up, wear it out, make it do or do without.”

In other words, no-frills Christmas and every other day.

How, then, could this beautiful dollhouse be under the tree? Hand-crafted by my parents, it was a dream house. There were braided rugs in the living room and bedrooms, curtains at the windows. It was furnished with miniature chairs, tables, beds and kitchen appliances, all lovingly made by Mama and Daddy. Seventy-five years later, I treasure the dollhouse and appreciate the memories of that special gift.

Jeremy Stopford, Earlville, N.Y.

Christmas 1968 when all three brothers and our parents were together for one last time at our parents’ house in Ft. Lauderdale.

Greg Barker, Lewiston

One year I got socks from everybody. Nothing but socks. Twenty-three pairs of socks. The comedy of it all was priceless. Believe it or not, it was the best Christmas ever.

Charie Barker, Norway

My very first grandchild, a girl, born on Christmas Day 1985.

Chontel MacMunn, Rancho Cucamonga, California

My dad coming home from the hospital Christmas morning when I was 8 years old.

Slinky

Paddle ball

Red Rocket Sled

Mittens

1950s

Magic 8-Ball

Barbie

Matchbox

Skateboard

Ginny doll

Yo Yo

Play-Doh

1960s

Hot Wheels

Legos

Superball

Easy Bake Oven

Barrel of Monkeys

Etch A Sketch

Lite Brite

1970s

Nerf hoop

GI Joe

Air Hockey

Skateboard

Life

Slime

Holly Hobbie

Star Wars everything

Stretch Armstrong

1980s

Rubik’s Cube

BMX bike

My Little Pony

Transformers

Care Bears

Trivial Pursuit

Skateboard

Cabbage Patch Kids

1990s

Power Rangers

Magic Eye pictures

Nintendo Game Boy

Teletubbies

Yo Yo

Toy Story figurines

Skateboard

2012

Furby

Wii U

Kindle Fire tablet

LeapPad2

Nintendo 3D XL

Razor Pocket Mod Electric Scooter