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One of the most satisfying pleasures of Christmas is taking down my boxes of ornaments from the attic and unwrapping memories of past holidays.

The flush of memories, temporarily forgotten, comes rushing back as I rediscover ornaments carefully packed away in old newspapers.

The most emotional unveilings are of ornaments given to me the first Christmas after the births of my son and my daughter. My favorites are a little brown ceramic bear with dangling arms that a sister-in-law made for Andy in 1988. And a pink Hallmark carousel pony with Rachel’s name and birthday, May 4, 1992.

My Christmas boxes seem to have more ornaments for “Baby’s First Christmas” than any other theme. There is something endearing about the birth of a child that prompts friends and relatives to bestow these special ornaments on parents.

And then, in what seems like no time at all, reindeers made out of clothespins and glitter-globbed Santas with cotton ball beards take over the ornament box.

So again this year, a few days before Thanksgiving, I dragged down my Christmas boxes and set them on the edge of my garage.

Andy, now 26, was coming home for the holiday with his new wife, Erin. I thought Andy would want to dig through these boxes and take a few ornaments back to hang on his and Erin’s first Christmas tree.

So on Saturday afternoon, Andy and Erin went out to the garage to sort through the decorations. When I checked a half-hour later, they had set aside a dozen or so ornaments, including those from Andy’s first Christmas.

I felt a real tug at my heart when I saw that little ceramic bear — the one I had cherished almost as long as my son — laying on top of their pile. But I just smiled and said I was sure the ornaments they had chosen would look great on their tree.

A few weeks later, my daughter Rachel was home from Jacksonville to celebrate an early Christmas because both of us will be away with friends for the holidays. Like Andy, Rachel went through our Christmas boxes to find favorite ornaments for her tree in Jacksonville. Even before looking, I knew that the little carousel horse with her name in cursive letters would be in Rachel’s take-home pile.

Letting go of Rachel’s carousel horse and Andy’s ceramic bear was a rite of passage — more for me than for my children. I’ve come to realize that parents go through as many rites of passage as their kids — we just don’t talk about it. We anticipate the transitions as our children grow from infants to teenagers, and all too soon leave home for college and jobs with plans and dreams separate from our own.

And one of those rites is passing along our most treasured gifts, which for me includes giving my children their first Christmas ornaments. And it is with joy that I share with you this, my newest Christmas memory.

Diane Kortus is publisher of The Laker/Lutz News. She has owned the newspapers since 2000, and has been publisher since 2009.

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I have always looked forward to Christmas.

Except for one year.

My sister Anne Marie was very ill, and I just couldn’t feel the joy of the season.

So, instead of going to get a freshly cut tree from a lot and decorating it with my friends, Bob and Heather, I decided not to put up a tree.

When I told Heather that I was skipping our annual tradition, she invited me to come to their place and help them to decorate their tree. As I put ornaments on their tree’s branches, I knew the decorations evoked memories of happy events, important places, and special moments for my friends.

And, I thought to myself: I have a fine collection of ornaments, too.

So, on my way home, I bought myself an artificial tree from Walgreens. It wasn’t very tall or full, but putting my ornaments on its branches — and remembering special times with family and friends — restored my Christmas spirit.

That was Anne Marie’s last Christmas.

Her legacy lives on, though, through the lives of her children and grandchildren, and in the happy memories of her that I carry around in my heart.

I especially feel her presence each year, as I hang ornaments that she gave to me on my smallish Walgreens tree — celebrating Christmas and all that it means during Anne Marie’s favorite season.

B.C. Manion is community editor of The Laker/Lutz News, joining the paper in 2010. She writes news and features, takes photographs and edits the work of her colleagues.

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It didn’t matter if the tree wasn’t always real. Or that we weren’t wealthy.

What mattered was that we spent the holiday celebrating the birth of Christ in the company of family and friends — Polish style.

My parents saw that our Polish heritage played a huge part in celebrating Christmas when I was growing up. There are so many memorable traditions, a few of which I try to carry on today.

Christmas Eve, or “Wigilia,” was our most important holiday tradition. We’d eat delicious pierogi and break bread. The bread, or Christmas wafer called oplatek, was imprinted with a holy picture. We offered our oplatek to family and friends to ask for their forgiveness, or to extend a wish for happiness.

Also on Christmas Eve, I or one of my three sisters would add hay to our crèche in preparation for the Christ child. We’d then dress in our Sunday best, pile in the car and attend midnight Mass at St. Mary’s Catholic Church. Even though we didn’t understand the language of our parents — no matter how hard they tried to teach us — just listening to the Polish Christmas carols gave me more reasons to love the season.

And even though I can barely stay awake for a midnight Mass today, to this day, hearing Polish carols transports me back to my childhood.

My parents always did their best to make sure we had wonderful presents to open. But while the presents nestled under the tree brought sparkles to our eyes, it was the manger that took center stage in our home.

Baby Jesus was not added to the crèche until Christmas morning, and the scene would remain center stage until the three kings arrived Jan. 6.

For us, that one solitary life changed the world. Nothing meant more than honoring the birth of Christ with the breaking of oplatek and a Christmas toast among family and friends.

The faith my parents instilled is a constant with me today. My crèche for baby Jesus always has a prominent place in my home. My parents still mail me oplatek so I can break bread with my family and friends.

I may sing Christmas carols in English, but the English does not diminish the feelings brought on by the beautiful Polish verses.

I am so very grateful to my incredible parents for honoring our heritage over the years, teaching us that no matter what you believe, we should treat each other with love, dignity and respect.

Mary Rathman is the editorial assistant at The Laker/Lutz News, joining the paper in 2002. In addition to proofing stories, advertisements and pages, she compiles the What’s Happening, Health and Chalk Talk columns.

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Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, I dreamed that I was a princess.

I was 10 years old, and pink and purple were the colors that shimmered and shined for me.

I wanted a bedroom fit for a princess. I wanted pink walls and a full-sized white canopy bed with layers of purple ruffles, white nightstands with small lamps that were fitting, and a white fur rug to place my princess feet upon. This was a Christmas wish.

As the gifts started going under the tree, I would try to figure out which part of my princess room could fit into the box. The day arrived when a very large, but flat, gift appeared. Could it be my princess bed?

My parents asked me if I really thought a big canopy princess bed could fit into such a box. How could it? I knew they were right: No way a bed could fit into that box.

Why should Christmas come to our home when my one and only wish was not coming true?

Christmas morning came anyway. The house was full of soft and glowing lights from the tree and decorations, hot chocolate was in our cups, and beautiful Christmas music was playing throughout the house. Everything was beautiful, and we were all happy and dancing around, enjoying our Christmas Day.

I told my mom that it didn’t matter too much that I would not have a princess room, and that I still liked Christmas Day.

She smiled and winked at me. She told me that I have been a princess since the day I was born, and I didn’t need some silly bed to prove it.

We gathered around the tree, and I was instructed to open the first and largest gift. I opened an end and peeked inside. There was a picture of the most beautiful canopy bed I had ever seen. It was not just white, but trimmed in gold. I was so overwhelmed, I cried.

There was no way that a bed was inside. My parents had convinced me it could not be. The box was opened, and piece-by-piece, it came out to make my complete full-sized princess bed.

Not only that, I had a matching dresser, two bedside stands, white shimmering lamps, and layers upon layers of purple bedding, canopy and curtains.

Within a week, my beautiful pink and purple princess room was complete, right down to the white fur rug. I still remember the way it looked.

But the best present I received that Christmas was not that, it was the memory of those words my mother spoke.

– Carolyn Bennett

Carolyn Bennett joined The Laker/Lutz News in 2004. She is responsible for processing advertising copy for production, and ensures ads are scheduled and running correctly in the paper. She also is the paper’s customer service representative and sales assistant.

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Some of my favorite memories of Christmas are the parties that my mom’s company threw every year for children of struggling families.

My brothers and my sister and I were always eager for the annual event, which included lunch, a movie with popcorn, and a present from Santa. We would get dressed up for Christmas, and would be excited, never knowing what present we would receive.

We lived in Flint, Michigan, the hub of the automobile industry. My mom worked at General Motors and was bringing up four children on her own. She couldn’t afford big Christmas presents, and while we never went hungry, we sure ate a lot of hamburger casserole meals.

We loved mom’s company party. We hardly ever got to go to a movie, and if we did, we never got popcorn. Plus, the gifts were always things we enjoyed.

Those holiday parties made a real difference in my life, and to this day, they have inspired me to want to bring cheer to children who otherwise might not receive Christmas presents.

For years, my family and I have taken angels from our church’s tree to provide presents for one girl and one boy. It’s been our tradition for my two children to go with me to shop for these presents, because we wanted to be sure to select the perfect gifts.

I also wanted to teach my children to be aware that there are others who are less fortunate, and the importance of sharing with them. I want the children who receive presents from our family to have the same happy feelings that my mom’s company party gave to me.

– Terri Williamson

Terri Williamson is a senior account manager. She joined The Laker/Lutz News in 2003, and she establishes, maintains and strengthens relationships with local businesses and helps them with their marketing efforts.

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I have many wonderful Christmas memories, but two in particular stand out.

The first was when I was in college. My family had moved to Florida from Ohio a few years earlier, and when we went back to visit for the holidays, our family had grown too large for all of us to stay at my grandparents’ house.

My parents had this great idea and rented two cabins at Mohican State Park. They drove up early, and since we were only staying there a few days, my mom brought just a handful of small Christmas decorations to make the cabin look a little festive before the rest of the family arrived.

They didn’t have room to bring a tree, so my mom jokingly said that if we saw a tree lying in the road to bring it with us.

My sister, brother and I were driving up to the cabin, and sure enough, there was a beautiful blue spruce tree on the side of the road.

My mom couldn’t believe it.

We put the tree up and hung a few ornaments on its branches. It was such a simple tree, but it meant so much to all of us to have it for our Christmas celebration.

It was a cold winter that year, and the blanket of fresh snow on the ground outside the cabins was absolutely gorgeous.

I will never forget how beautiful it was for our family to be in those cabins in the middle of the woods, as if we had the whole place to ourselves.

There were no stores or restaurants nearby, just our family spending time together creating wonderful memories.

My other favorite Christmas memory is from when my daughter was little. My husband had this terrific idea of having a hayride from our house in Wesley Chapel.

It was a great way to bring lots of family and friends together the week before Christmas to just have some fun.

After we decorated the trailer with garland, the kids had an awesome time breaking the bales apart and spreading hay everywhere. Sometimes it seemed like there was more hay on our driveway than on the trailer, but it was great to see them have so much fun.

We wore Santa hats, rang our jingle bells, and sang Christmas carols while we rode the streets of our neighborhood.

Each year it got bigger, and we even had to add another trailer so everyone could ride. After the hayride, we had a big cookout, and to make it even more special, Santa arrived and handed out gifts to all the children.

It was such a huge success that we had it for several years.

It was a fantastic way to spread holiday cheer. It was intended for the children, but I am pretty sure that the adults had just as much fun.

I know I did.

– Mary Eberhard

Mary Eberhard joined The Laker/Lutz News in 2003. She is the accounting manager and handles invoicing, accounts payable and accounts receivable.

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Anyone remember Christmas Eve 1989 here in Tampa Bay?

My husband Gary and I were married for only two years, and it was the first year in our new home in Lutz.

It was crazy cold that year. As people switched on their electric heaters, plugged in their Christmas lights, and turned on their electric stoves, the resulting power shortage caused rolling blackouts.

The house would be full of light and warmth for about an hour, and then poof — everything was dark. There was no way to know how long we would be without light.

Typically the power would be out for an hour or two, but sometimes it would be out for three.

We were forced to sit and relax by candlelight, and we found ourselves engaged in pleasant conversation. We had no idea when we would receive the glorious gift of electrical power again.

When the power went back on, we would jump up and do as many tasks as we could that required electricity. I ran the vacuum, cranked up the heat, used multiple burners on the stove, and heated the big oven and the toaster oven at the same time.

We didn’t know how much time we had before cold darkness would return. Just as abruptly as lights went on, they’d go out again, and we’d be back in the darkness, fumbling around in a search for lighters, candles and flashlights.

While in the throes of it, it felt like the rolling blackouts during the holidays were a curse. Looking back, however, it’s easy to see that the loss of power was not a burden, but a gift.

It was a blessing to spend those interludes between our frantic bursts of activity savoring the company of each other.

– Suzanne Beauchaine

Suzanne Beauchaine is an account manager with The Laker/Lutz News, joining the paper in 2013. She seeks to listen to customers to ensure their advertising meets their marketing needs.

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