This time of the year brings very special meaning. Anticipation of its arrival was quite a bit more than a child could bear. The smell of fresh home made cookies, breads, pies and such for the big day's feast. The rushing secretive movements, of Father & Mother, not to mention my four older brothers. The adobe garage, barn and bedroom sometimes were off limits for a short time, especially the high shelves in closets, which stood vigil from curious little hands. Plans and invites were made far in advance, and finally Christmas Day. Nothing fancy, no tree, no wrapped presents. Mother in the kitchen tendering the ole wood Home Comfort wood burning stove. Breakfast was on the grill and so was the smell of the summer's goose or turkey. The old stove pouring puffs of smoke into the cold crisp winter morning sky. Seemingly knowing just what to do? Besides cooking the meals for a hungry family, it also kept the weathered three-room shack and its occupants toasty warm. After the morning chores of milking cows, feeding pigs & chickens, carting wood and coal inside for the day's burn. Also bringing in buckets of water to drink from the artesian well. Breakfast was set on an old round oak table, with twenty coats of varnish on it, surrounded by four chairs that didn't match & a five foot wooded bench against the wall. Oatmeal with real cream, twa bach, several dozen fried eggs, sunny side up, pancakes, fried freshly cured ham, coffee & fresh cold milk held us till noon. After all this was gone, everybody except Mother pitched in to do the dishes. Just who's turn to dry, this time didn't matter. Let's just hurry. Then came the moment everyone had been waiting for. Big shortening cans full of popcorn balls, peanut brittle [Father's delight] were brought out to enjoy. (These were made quite well in weeks prior to Christmas Day, and were off limits). There were times when even fresh oranges and such were available too. What a delight. After a while, Father would bring out the old German Bible, and read to us the Christmas story. Gathered around the old oak table, graced only with an oil lamp. I remember standing on the rungs of the back of the chair, peeking over someone's shoulder. The day was filled with tons of joy, love and laughter and good things to eat. Then small gifts [usually the home made variety] or well-needed clothes were exchanged. True appreciation and happiness abounded. What a blessed day! May each of you too, find a real peace and joy this Christmas Day. God Bless.
*This framed article was penned, shortly after Christmas Day 1982, in honor of my Father & Mother, of the drafty home place and the fond memories it brought as a child. The four siblings who may have graced the table, for Christmas dinners several times during my childhood? Many times my Father may not have been present, being on a drunken spree? However, Mother and the boys made the best it could possibly afford. Sometimes, we may have had the opportunity to go to Grandmother's house or an Aunt.
A further explanation to this writing needs to be written. Christmas eve 1982 was a very depressing evening. My roommates had gone to enjoy a festive evening, and I felt alone and deserted. In the lonely passing hours, I made an attempt of suicide. Futile in the attempt, I woke the next morning very sick. I made a resolve, NEVER to attempt again or to allow anyone else that despair, NOR having a place to go on Christmas eve.
Thought it was appropriate so you too can have a bright & blessed CHRISTmas.
