St. Nikolaus visit to the Sophienburg Museum on Dec 5, 1980.

By Keva Hoffmann Boardman —

The small dining/living room was stuffed with my eight aunts, seven uncles, Grandma and Grandpa, and my cousins. I think there were about 13 of us kids at the time. It was Christmas. Grandma’s tree was decorated with old ornaments that were not like our 1960s ones. And there were bubble lights — magical, colored-liquid-filled tubes of glass that absolutely mesmerized us.

The night before, Christmas Eve, we had all bathed and washed our hair (not a daily thing) and donned our Christmas finery. I always had new red patent leather “Sunday” shoes; I would get new white patent leather ones for Easter. Then we’d pile into cars and drive to church.

Christmas Eve in the little stone country church was an event full of familiar carols, candlelight and the pungent but refreshing smell of cedar. Some of my aunts would sing in the choir up in the loft. The church was filled with folks we only saw when we came for Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter. They were mostly “cousins” and relatives of my Grandpa and Grandma’s families. The highlight of the service was at the end when men, usually my uncles, would hand out a white paper bag, with “Merry Christmas” stamped in red on it, to each child. Inside were oranges, apples, pecans, a peppermint stick, possibly a chocolate Santa and a small toy. Do you remember the metal clicker toys?

But now it was Christmas Day! We had eaten a huge lunch around one long table made of several tables and wood planks. Everyone always sat in the same place, kind of like we do in church. My cousin Becky and I always sat at the end on the piano bench. After lunch, all the leftovers were put away and every dish was handwashed, dried and returned to the cupboards. Then the tables were cleared and taken down, the chairs moved all around the edge of the room, and again, families moved to their oddly pre-ordained places. Then we waited.

Knock, knock, knock.

St. Nikolaus was at the front door. We could see him through the glass. My cousin Becky would begin to whimper. She always cried when St. Nick came. This year, some of us were on a quest to find out if St. Nikolaus was REAL. Last year, we were all agreed that he could have been Uncle Leroy dressed in a costume. He had been missing from the room.

“It’s not Uncle Leroy,” I whispered to my cousins, “he is sitting over there.” We all began counting-up the uncles. “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight….and Grandpa!” We looked at each other in shock. But at that moment, an aunty had let HIM in the door.

St. Nikolaus was dressed in a red coat, boots and had a beard…sort of like Santa, but definitely not Santa. For one thing, he was quiet and spoke little. And, he was not at all jolly. He had a bag and a stick and he walked slowly with purpose.

Cousin Becky was crying for real now. The two of us always sat on the bottom stair of the stairs that led to the upstairs dormitory-like bedrooms. Mom was one of six girls and three boys and the upstairs was divided into two large bedrooms. Four of the families gathered had slept up there the night before.

“Shhhhhh….,” I told Becky and put my arm around her.

St. Nikolaus began walking around the room and stopping at each child. He looked at you with a frowny, stern face, and yeah, he was a little scary. But I never cried like Becky did. As he circled the room, each of us waited in stillness for our turn to “face-up and fess-up” to St. Nikolaus. He had come to see if we had been good. “Do you obey your Mother and Father?” “Do you go to church and say your prayers?” In light of his commanding presence, you had to tell the truth.

As soon as he had passed, each of us let out an audible sigh then began to once again take a look around the room to see who was missing. One of the boys snuck out the kitchen door and checked the back porch. Another went to see if there was a strange car parked around the house. But all to no avail. We couldn’t find one clue that would let us know who or what was St. Nikolaus.

“Merry Christmas!” said St. Nick as he went out the front door.

Now you’d think that we would just run after him and see where he went, right? But that was all part of our parents’ ingenious plan, because at that point, presents mysteriously appeared in front of us which totally distracted us from continuing our quest. Ripping paper, giggles, loud voices, laughter, “thank-yous” and hugs had become much more important.

St. Nikolaus had come and gone and we kids were no wiser.

Fast forward 20+ years, and I had my children hang up their stockings on December 5th to see if St. Nikolaus would visit. They dutifully wrote him a letter telling them if they had been good or bad and requesting desired gifts. Their St. Nikolaus always visited in the dead of night and filled their stockings with chocolate oranges, candy canes and a little toy. Except the one time he left them only one piece of chocolate and soap. The soap was for keeping a civil tongue in their mouths; it seems they had been terribly disrespectful to their parents and each other.

St. Nikolaus is a custom that the German immigrants brought to Texas. His feast day is December 6th, but it is on December 5th, St. Nikolaus Eve, that we put up our stockings and wait for his visit. Here at the Sophienburg Museum & Archives, we celebrate this tradition each year. Families can come to the museum at 5pm and 6pm on Thursday, December 5th. Cost is $5 per family and you need to call the museum and make a reservation for your preferred time. St. Nikolaus will visit with the children and they will make an ornament. You can then tour the museum which has been decorated for the holidays. Photos are encouraged, especially photos with St. Nick!

It is a great traditional start to the joyous Christmas season.

“Around the Sophienburg” is published every other weekend in the New Braunfels Herald-Zeitung.