Posted on 12/17/2002 11:23:00 PM PST by daisyscarlett
Molly ~~~ your descriptions are so vivid I feel as if I were by your side. Wonderful writing and heartwarming thoughts! Thank you!
daisy ~~~ your presentation is just perfect! Truly beautiful!
Thank you, Hostesses...)
The place that is first and deepest in my heart is my Grandpa's 80 acres of cotton farm in West Texas, outside a dusty little town called Maple. It is sacred to me, my Jerusalem. Hot summer days, snowy Christamases...yellow watermelon...exploring Grandpa's sheds and junkpiles...walking the furrows, a treasure of dirt clods, dark and rich soil, little puffs of white in the rows of green. The sight of Grandpa out on his John Deere, far off on the flat horizon. Grandma's voice, and her kitchen.
I dream about it once in awhile, being there...it is always changed a little, but still feels the same, like home.
Thank you both for this beautiful thread. When I read your words, Molly, I pictured in my mind how this thread should look, and when Daisy's plans for being gone this week changed and she could help with this week's presentations after all, she took your words, and created this, one of the most elegant and beautiful Christmas threads I've ever seen.
The year is 1937 and the world is gray. At the end of a muddy, rutted, dirt road deep in the rolling hills of the Cumberland Plateau in Tennessee you will see a gray clapboard cabin. Beyond the cabin the road drops into a creek swollen with winter rains. It doesn't matter, for nothing travels this road except horse-drawn wagons.
The cabin sits on a foundation of stacked limestone rock; a pillar of rock at each corner. If you are so minded you can throw a cat under the house and it will land on it's feet in the back yard. An L-shaped porch wraps around the front and side of the house, and the tin roof sags between the poles too weak for the load of it.
Inside the front door is a small alcove with a set of stairs leading up to an attic floor. Underneath the open stairs is a double bed that fills the remainder of the space in the alcove. The floors are made of a single layer of planks and when the wind whistles under the house, it pushes up between the boards so that one's feet are always cold. Beyond the entrance is a large room with an open fireplace made of giant slabs of limstone. The fire is the only color in the room except for the quilt on Mom and Dad's bed. The room serves as bedroom and living room. To the side of that room is a kitchen with a wood stove, a couple of tables, and a pie safe. Water is drawn from a well outside the kitchen door.
It's Christmas Eve and the family; Mom, Dad, Jo, Bill and Nan are sitting in front of the open fireplace. Mom is large with child again. She is shaking a popcorn popper over the flames. The children are stringing popcorn onto threads, diligently working to decorate the cedar tree that Dad has cut earlier and set in the corner over by the kitchen. They have already cut snowflackes from folded pages out of the Sears-Roebuck catalog and placed them on the tree. It is a peaceful scene as the children dream of the wonders of Christmas. They look forward to morning when there will be apples and oranges and peppermint candy in the stockings they have hung on the mantle. They know there will be no toys.
All is too quiet for a house full of small children. Suddenly comes a STOMP, STOMP, STOMP on the wooden boards of the front porch! The children are startled and frightened. Then, BOOM, BOOM, BOOM! The door threatens to remove itself from it's hinges. The children run to hide behind Mom as Dad goes to the door. In a moment he returns followed by an apparition in black who is shouting, HO! HO! HO!
Dad says, "Children, look who's here. It's Santa Claus!"
The children have never seen Santa Claus. They have heard of him and how he delivers toys to children on Christmas, but he has never stopped at their house before. The loud, frightening person stomps over to the chair by the fireplace and sits down. He pats his knee and says, "Come children, sit on Santa's lap and tell him what you want for Christmas."
Bill, not wanting to show cowardess, ventures closer. Jo is measuring the distance between fear and curiosity. Nan is cowering behind Mom with undisguised terror. The man in black has a red face, making it an added color to the fire and the quilt.
After Bill and Jo have gathered courage enough to get close to Santa to express their wishes, Mom and Dad insist that Nan must go and tell Santa what she wants for Christmas or else she might not get anything in her stocking. Eventually avarice gains the upper hand over fear and Nan moves a few steps beyond Mom's chair and whispers, "I want a doll."
As Santa prepares to leave, Bill remembers something he has heard about Santa. "Santa, where are your reindeer?"
Santa replies, "I left them across the creek. There's not enough room for them on your roof." Then he stomps across the planks and booms out the front door hollering, "Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas!"
The silence in the room is more pronounced after the noise of the nocturnal visitor. The children are amazed and speechless, and Dad meets no resistence when he orders them to bed. They get into pajamas by the fireplace and run to the bed under the stairs as Mom brings warm bricks wrapped in cloth to tuck at their feet.
Christmas morning breaks cold and crisp with ice forming on everything, including the water standing in the bucket on the kitchen table. The children run to the fireplace and grab their stocking from the mantle. Yes, Santa has left apples, oranges, peppermint sticks and nuts in the stockings. The children are happy as they tackle the unfamiliar task of peeling oranges. Dad comes in and says, "Look! There seems to be something under the Christmas tree!"
He reaches under the tree and brings out some packages wrapped in newspaper and tied with colorful ribbon. He reads from the packages, "This one says to Bill," as he hands Bill the gift. The girls watch as their brother tears open the paper to reveal a toy truck. Wonder of wonders! Now they are excited to receive their own packages. Jo finds books and paper dolls. Nan, who asked for a doll, was overjoyed to open a miniature trunk containing, not one, but two tiny dolls. It was the first Christmas gift she had ever received and one that she would treasure for the rest of her life. But the greatest gift of all is the memory of a night when Santa Claus himself crossed the creek and manifested in a little country cabin in Tennessee. Merry Christmas to all!
In an earlier post on today's thread I commented about one of my most memorable places we went to, now here's another place I remember with fond memories, I was hesitant to name this place since it is not in the US, but, since we did spend Christmas there several time when I was growing up and my mother was born and raised there, I need to mention it.
I told you about my dad's birthplace and parents and family. But we would alternate our visits between my dad's people and my mom's folks.
Mom was born in a small town in northern Saskatchewan, Canada, called St. Walburg.
A small town who's main source if income was grain crops and beef and dairy products. It was founded in the early 20th century by mostly people from Minnesote, North Dakota and other northern states. There were also Germans, Ukraininas, French, English, and even Jewish people there. but the town was predominately Catholic, such as my mom's family.
Her parents migrated there from Minnesota at separate times in around 1903. They met and married in 1911 and raised 6 children in different towns in Saskatchewan, Manitoba and Alberta. My mom was thier youngest child.
When I was growing up in the 1960's we used to go one year to Tennessee and the nexy year to Saskatchewan. so we got to know both sets of grandparents and Aunts and uncles.
Though, my mom's dad died before we were born, so I only knew my grandmother.
I can remember all the fun we had in Saskatchewan. I loved to hear about the antics of my mom and her siblings. There were not as many cousins to play with as my mom was the only one in her family to marry and have children. So we played with each other and explored the area around were my grandmom's farm was. We went acouple times to spend Christmas with Grandma Fuchs, as we would call her, and our Aunts and Uncles there. We would always have to bundle up there as winter in that part of Canada was wicked and when it snowed it didn't fool around with a few flurries here and there, It would start to snow in around October and stay til April.
A week before Christmas our uncles would take us kids out to find a Christmas tree, that evening we would spend in setting it up and decorating it. they didn't have a regular stand so they used an old wagon wheel that worked just fine!
On Christmas Eve we always opened our presents.
What I loved most about my mom's family was the closeness they had/have to each other, the sense of humor of each member.
Though ther are only my mom and one of her sisters and two of her brothers left, the memories keep the others alive!
What a beautiful story!
I just wiped tears out of my eyes from posting my memories of Christmases in Saskatchewan, Canada. Then I read your story and had to wipe them away again!
Merry Christmas!
We also had oleanders in our yard and made leis from the blooms. This was before it was discovered that oleanders are (gasp!) poisonous. How did we ever survive?!
Thanks for your writings today. They were so enjoyable.
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May we all capture and appreciate the true spirit of giving, and gracious receiving, and honestly honor the One Who was Born on Earth that we could know Love..
dutchess sorry about your kitty! Yikes.
Kay, thank you so much....note to you soon....
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