When the last of the turkey leftovers are finally and mercifully finished off and the temperatures begin to drop, you can feel here in the Kennebunks that Christmas is in the air. For those of us who are swiftly climbing the rungs of the aging ladder, it can become a time to reminisce about past Christmas holidays in these two villages nestled along the Atlantic shore.

Our Kennebunk Christmas memories date back to our 1972 move from Cape Cod. I was to teach history at Kennebunk High School, while Shirley was transferring to New England Telephone in Portland. Shauna, our toddler daughter, later joined in 1978 by her little brother, Nathaniel, would play a joyful role in all the Christmas celebrations that awaited the Murphy family.

Another stop would always be the Landing Store for ordering (the 49th time this year) our Christmas Day apple pie, writes Tom Murphy. Dan King / Post

We settled into our new Maine lives and after restoring the old Ivory Goodwin cape at 10 Mechanic St., we built our first house on 13 acres along the Kennebunk River, just slightly upriver from the Wedding Cake House. It was a long-drawn out purchase negotiated by realtor John Downing. The post-and-beam, broken-back 1790 saltbox reproduction looked like it had been standing there when Nathaniel Gilpatrick was building and launching wooden vessels for the West Indies trade.

Sandy MacKinnon built the 900-foot driveway and for two-plus decades he, then his son Mike, kept it plowed when we still had real Maine rip-roaring winters. By mid-winter, they’d have to use front-end loaders to push back and pile up the snow, creating 10- to 12-foot high snow forts. They were perfect for adolescent snowball battles, usually ending when someone took a slushy snowball in the face. The forts were also the perfect launch pads for what felt like super-sonic sled and toboggan zips down the old shipbuilder’s steep hill.

Regardless of age or the century, it’s a Christmas tradition that you have to put together a “wish list” for Santa. Our generation’s wish lists were inspired by the Sears & Roebuck’s winter catalog. Flipping through its pages, we had to have a good imagination, because you had to visualize in catalog black and white the toys, wagons and bikes. As the Sears catalog made its way through the family, there was just one rule — you couldn’t tear a page out.

Back in the early-1970s, and before the Toys R Us warehouse stores, the Jack family welcomed local youngsters to their Western Auto and Toy Store on Main Street. Everything Christmas was now in living color. You could touch it and sometimes even get down on the floor and play with it. You could even maybe sit on the bike of your dreams. Parents, seeing all of the excitement, patted themselves on their backs for their earlier foresight in opening up a Christmas saving account at the bank.

Once the wish list was prioritized, parents helped their children pen a letter to Santa. Back then Kennebunk’s Post Office was housed at today’s police station. Postmaster Robert Spofford always set up a Santa’s Mail Box in the lobby. As the days grew shorter and the temperatures fell, the “Great Santa Claus ‘Wish List’ Rush” was on.

The rumor around town was that because Mrs. Claus was so busy at the North Pole, Mrs. Virginia Spofford was now helping with the crush of “Dear Santa” letters.

As new residents of the Pine Tree State, we pledged that we’d only buy Maine-grown Christmas trees. Our first trees were bought at the Woods Tree Farm on the Log Cabin Road, but soon their trees outgrew the space in our small-roomed house. We had heard about the cut-your-own Holmes Tree Farm, so the kids would search for their perfect tree. With my trusty hand saw, I’d crawl under the tree, sometimes in the mud, and perform my duty. The only exceptions were the years when Shirley would exercise her “Mother’s Veto,” selecting a sad, pitiful, “ Charley Brown” tree, which she believed needed a loving family.

One of the Christmas parental duties that I enjoyed the most was taking our kids out shopping for their mother’s gifts. In the ‘Port, Dock Square was our ground zero for great shopping choices. First, we’d be up the outside stairs to the Book Port, where Jack and Shirley Fenner and the store cat would greet us. Shirley would guide Shauna and Nathaniel over to the Children’s and Young Readers’ Corner and just like magic their soon-to-be favorites would appear under our Christmas tree. Jack usually had for me a late-but-emergency order for titles from our book publishing company, Durrell Publications.

Down the stairs and a turn to the right took us into the Copper Candle Shop, where Fred Holmberg, a fellow selectman and one of our authors, treated the kids as if they were his most valued customers. Both of them had started the tradition of gifting their mother a box of really fine candles for her dinner table. Fred usually also gifted them a coffee cup for Shirley. That may have been because I had been his daughter Kristen’s high school driver education instructor, sparing him from that chore.

Next door came the premier stop of the day — Julia’s Gift Shop. Mrs. Marcotte, whose two daughters had been in my classes, took them directly in hand to the decorated trees. Years earlier, she had introduced them to special collectors’ , hand-crafted ornaments. They were whimsical, 5-inch high characters from the “Wizard of Oz” — the Tin Man, Dorothy, the Cowardly Lion and the Scarecrow (I am looking at them on our tree as I write this piece}. Mrs. Marcotte always gently wrapped each year’s purchase, and the two of them lovingly carried them home as if they were gold bars from Fort Knox.

I was responsible for outfitting myself for Christmas, so I’d head on my own to Marier’s Men’s Shop to see Karl Hooper, “the Mayor of Main Street.” I’d replenish my supply of socks, maybe a new belt or tie, and replace my “K” ball cap if it was needed. Every two or three years, I’d buy a new Pendleton shirt, so I could be Kennebunk “chic.”

Karl would fill me in on the local happenings in Kennebunk, while I’d share what was transpiring at the capital in Augusta. I’d make a quick stop at the Brown Street Florist and Kathy Emmons to pick up a pair of poinsettias and a table centerpiece for our Christmas dinner. Another stop would always be the Landing Store for ordering (the 49th time this year) our Christmas Day apple pie.

When it came to clothes for the kids during those early years, they both loved the ladies at the Jack and Jill Store at the Kennebunk Plaza. Until kindergarten, Nathaniel was known as “The OshKosh B’Gosh Kid,’ with his bib overalls. All he wanted was a baseball cap with any team’s logo on it. Shauna, loved softball and playing along the river, so she had a lot of tomboy in her, but Santa always made sure there were frilly and girly clothes under the tree for her.

For decades, when Shirley would close down her flower gardens, she’d start planning her inside house projects and began making a separate Christmas list of the needed items — paint, brushes, and any specific tools she might need. She had been taught by her grandfather how to fix things, so she’s the only member of our family who has her own tool belt and kit. I decided I could have some fun while running down the items on her list. I knew that at Libby’s Hardware on Main Street that Reg Libby went home for lunch and that his realtor son, Jack Libby, would cover the store for him.

When I walked in the door, Jack would reach under the counter for the “Closed for Lunch” sign, posting it on the now locked door, and grabbed a couple of boxes of ammo off the shelf. Jack, a fellow U.S. Marine, had built a full-fledged shooting range in the basement. We selected the rifle of the day and the shooting challenge was on. I don’t know how many noontimes and boxes of ammunition it took me each November and December to work my way through her “projects Christmas list.” Shirley is just learning about this as she proofs this copy.

Dave Noble, a good neighbor here in the Landing told me stories about his Kennebunk High School days during the early-1950s, His family lived on Cat Mousam Road and he used his skiff to cross the river on the way to and back from school. Many days he’d bring his rifle in case he saw a rabbit and during hunting season, he’d bring his deer rifle. He and many other students would store their rifles and ammunition in their unlocked lockers. Many students, up until the mid- 1970s, after lunch in the cafeteria, would head down to the school’s basement and shoot for awhile at the school’s shooting range. Those were innocent days, now long gone.

Despite all the hustle, bustling, and commercialism of the Christmas season, we both wanted our two children to remember that Christmas was the celebration of the birth of the baby Jesus. It was a Murphy family tradition that we went to a Christmas Eve service, each year to a different church.

Their favorites were the Rev. Bob Howes at the historic South Church in the ‘Port and the Rev. Lamar Robinson’s family service at Christ Church. The scriptures and the nativity scene brought the birth in Bethlehem alive for them, and the traditional church hymns conveyed the real meaning of Christmas.

Tom Murphy is a former history teacher and state representative. He is a Kennebunk Landing resident and can be reached at tsmurphy@myfairpoint.net.