If you asked your children or grandchildren what they received for Christmas last year, would they remember? Would those remote-controlled cars or battery-operated games still be in working order or tossed on a shelf in the basement?

I would hope that each Christmas is as memorable for them as some of mine have been for me growing up in “The House of Children.” When I was a kid, the lead-up to Christmas Eve and Christmas Day was filled with anticipation and traditions.

It all started with our Dad piling us into the station wagon and heading to the local Christmas tree lot to select the perfect tree for its prestigious spot in the corner of the front room of our family home.

Once that was secured, the old decorations were brought up from their resting place in the basement.

As kids, we didn’t actually decorate the tree but instead watched our Dad wrestle with strings of lights and meticulously place each ornament on the tree.

Keeping the family cat out of the tree was a daily chore.

Even more care was given to the placing of the Nativity scene complete with a three-legged camel and, occasionally, a missing Wise Man. The infant Christ Child was not placed in His crib until Christmas morning.

Somehow Mom managed to save some of the holiday decorations we made in school and they, too, were placed about the house.

The mantels in our old Victorian home were decked out with fragrant, live greens interspersed with colorful ornaments and lights. That Christmas tree and other decorations were magical and kept our attention without the need for TV or video games.

Christmas traditions were something we looked forward to all year long. For my four sisters and me, it was a special shopping night and dinner out with our Dad.

We got dressed up for a night on the town and then went shopping at the downtown stores for gifts for our Mom.

Then it was on to dinner at some of the area’s finest restaurants.

From Ernie’s Esquire to the Three Gaynors or Oglebay’s Ihlenfeld Dining Room, dinner with Dad was a princess-like experience.

Mom, on the other hand, was tasked with taking my seven brothers on a shopping trip that usually ended up at the G.C. Murphy store in downtown and burgers and fries from Burger Chef.

Traditions included a new pair of warm pajamas on Christmas Eve.

Also, when the appropriate age, tradition included Midnight Mass for the older children with Dad and morning Mass with Mom with some of the younger kids.

I don’t know how our Mom accomplished all she did to make our Christmases so memorable but she did. She had a knack for shopping and shopping on a budget. Somehow many youngsters’ dreams came true on Christmas morning.

Maybe it was a new basketball or a set of Nancy Drew books, but Mom knew.

Later when I was married, Mom gave us an unusual but interesting present on our first Christmas in our three-room apartment. S

he presented us with a garbage can. It was not just any old Wheeling Steel can but an elaborately decorated metal receptacle.

It was painted white with a red and blue Pennsylvania Dutch motif.

This can was too pretty to use for garbage and has traveled with us throughout our 48 years of marriage. It has held our son’s toys, books and other items, but never trash.

So you see, a Christmas tradition doesn’t have to be fancy or expensive.

It can be as simple as a trash can or dinner at the local burger joint. Just make it your own and have a memorable holiday season.