A Christmas Story

Shirleen waited. Her brother, Max, was supposed to be home to help her find a Christmas tree, but he was out somewhere with his cousin, Stanley. They were always getting into some sort of shenanigans together, and today was no exception, only it was time to get a tree! Absentmindedly she picked up her quilt square then sat it back down. She had been attempting to make her stitches as clean and concise as her mother's all afternoon. While quite skilled herself with a needle and thread, she never quite emulated those perfect stitches neatly dotting the edge of her mother's squares. Nobody could, really; her mom was unbeatable when it came to weaving needle and thread among the lattice of fabric. She removed her metal thimble, sat the brightly colored pieces down again and got up to get a closer look out the living room window, the one facing the road. Finally! There he was, slowly making his way up the gravel drive, just about to reach the closest edge of Mom's garden to his left. Christmas tree time! She ran to bundle into her mittens and boots before meeting her brother outside.

Their dad, Walter, used to accompany their trips out to the pine thicket, a little patch of earth down past Granny Ollie's house inhabited by stubby, scrawny pines haphazardly relaxing about the plot. These days the two siblings were strong enough to wield the hacksaw themselves, so they trudged through the woods alone. The trees were never the right size or shape, not like the tall stately triangular ones Shirleen would see when flipping through the glossy pages of her mother's magazines; the ones currently infront of her were squat little things, preferring to rest casually in a jumbled ball a few feet high rather than stand at attention proudly holding their cone heads high for a star to perch upon. The pines in the thicket were green, though, and as far as she and Max were concerned, that was enough to constitute a Christmas tree. So they chose one they could drag home and began sawing. Back and forth, back and forth, until the little trunk gave way and the pine unceremoniously rolled onto its side, submitting to be dragged home.

While the tree rested against the wall of the living room, Walter nailed two boards to the bottom of the cut tree, forming an X with the boards and stood the tree on its new base. Shirleen's mom set a bowl of popped corn kernels between them. They threaded their needles with a long strand of shiny black thread. They carefully strung the fluffy white puffs onto the thread until they had strands long enough to envelop the tree. Shirleen gingerly opened the box of glass ornaments her family had spent several Christmases saving up to buy and carefully hung them among the popcorn and pieces of silver tinsel woven among the branches. The glossy red bells were always her favorite, glinting in the light as she moved about the tree. While her dad had the nails and hammer, handy he nailed a set of their warm winter stockings to the mantle, ready to receive oranges and peppermint candy. Shirleen could hardly wait for the Christmas celebration!

Finally, after a week of being as good as Shirleen was able, Christmas Eve arrived. Every year it was a big to-do, and as evening fell, her house began to fill with family. Grandpa Orren and Granny Ollie came in, followed by Aunt Wanda towing Shirleen and Max's three cousins, Don, Imogene and Stanley. Her cousin Imogene was only three days younger than she, so Imogene felt more like a sister than a cousin. Max and Stanley were also very close in age, so they were always getting into some sort of shenanigans. Immediately they ran off to play together, leaving Shirleen and Imogene to ponder the options of what might be arriving inside Santa's Christmas bag this year. Suspiciously, as every year, Aunt Wanda had an excuse ready for why Uncle Frank wasn't joining in on the festivities.

After a while, Shirleen heard a scuffle outside. She and Imogene ran to the window to look. Nothing. She heard it again, this time on the side of the house! Everyone sat gathered in the living room, the only heated room in their house, listening intently above the hissing of the burning coal in the stove. They heard the window upstairs scrape open, and footsteps creaking the floorboards in the room upstairs. Filled with excitement and anticipation, Shirleen and Imogene squealed, knowing that Santa was finally here!

A red clad arm swung open the door hiding the stairs that lead to the second story of the house. A heavily padded, white bearded Santa Claus, who Shirleen suspected was actually her skinny Uncle Frank hidden in a suit stuffed tightly with pillows in the front and back, came blundering down the final few stairs. His big red bag, odd shapes bulging into its sides, rested on his shoulder. "Ho ho ho!" he yelled. "Merry Christmas!" Santa ceremoniously plunked down his gift bag, preparing to hand out gifts to the little group of children now swarming him. He rummaged around, jangling the items inside as his hands rested on each, drawing out the big reveal until he pulled out a prized toy and handed it to its recipient. Each child received one or two toys and a handful of hard candies. Shirleen couldn't wait to unwrap the cellophane wound tightly around the shiny purple and red candies she coveted from catalogue pages all year long. Uncle Frank, erh, Santa, pulled out a beautiful new doll, curls carved around her porcelain face, blue eyes blinking and handed it to Shirleen. She couldn't believe her luck! Max received a Radio Flyer wagon which he had been hoping for because he loved to go fast and had told her he had plans to make it go even faster as soon as the weather warmed up enough.

The toys and been delivered, the children excitedly played with their new loot. Along with the beautiful doll that she decided to name Elizabeth Anne, Shirleen was gifted a brand new coloring book and a beautiful pair of sun glasses. She could hardly wait to use both, so she donned her new pair of glasses, marveling at the new world she saw from their lenses. She and Imogene set up to color while the adults visited. Shirleen chose an image of a cow since she knew first hand what a cow should look like. Most of the pictures in the book were of things she had never seen in real life but finally, something she was positive she could do beautifully since she could make this cow look just like the brown cow out back who gave her family milk every day. She picked up her crayon, working hard to stay in the lines, only coloring the spaces that were supposed to be brown, no slips across the thick black lines on the paper. After what felt like an eternity of concentrating she was finally finished. She laid down her crayon and removed her sun glasses. As she studied her handiwork, a feeling of horror washed over her as she realized the colored lenses of the sun glasses had made her crayon look brown, when in fact it was purple! She couldn't believe she had colored a cow purple! What would Imogene think? Her parents were sure to think she was crazy. She vowed right then and there only to wear her beautiful new sunglasses outside and only when it was sunny.

Just then there was a kerfluffle over by the stove. Shirleen looked up to see Santa smoking! Not a cigarette or a pipe, no, no, his backside was about to go up in flames! The room filled with the smell of burning polyester and was accompanied by thick dark smoke as everyone rushed to help put out Uncle Frank and his pillows. Due to all of that padding he must not have realized how close he was standing to the hot coals in the stove and had caught his beautiful red suit on fire! After Santa was successfully patted out, he announced that he needed to go deliver more toys and turned toward the stairway to the second floor. The last thing Shirleen saw was his singed backside as he sheepishly retreated the way he had come.

After the excitement of the evening, it seemed Shirleen could never fall asleep, but eventually she dozed off. Christmas morning, she woke to the smells of her mom starting on Christmas dinner. Her dad lit a fire in the stove and the family gathered to find what had arrived in their stockings overnight. In each was a bright, round, juicy orange and a few striped sticks of peppermint candy. Oranges were a delicacy, only arriving on Christmas every year, so Shirleen tried to save hers until she couldn't stand to wait any longer. Stowing the candy safely in her pocket for later, she busied herself helping with Christmas dinner.

Walter walked out to the meat house and pulled a ham he had cured earlier in the year down from the rafter. He brought it inside and began carving away the thick salt covering while Shirleen began sifting flour for biscuits and her mom stewed the pinto beans in a large pot. Cornbread was also made, with corn they had dried in the fall and the kernels were ground into meal on a stone out in the granary. With the ham sliced, biscuits and cornbread baked, beans piled high into a bowl and potato salad whipped and topped with slices of boiled egg, the family pulled their chairs tight under the round oak table and Christmas dinner was served.

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I hope you enjoyed my Christmas story, as it is actually my Aunt Shirleen's. I asked her to tell me what her Christmases were like when she was growing up and while my dad added some delightful details, many of which I'll add in future stores, all of this was before his time. I wanted to share this one as though I had been there because I wish so hard I could have been. Just to experience the love and family in that room on Christmas Eve.

Shirleen told me that while she understood her family had less than perhaps one living in a big city or those families with parents who had factory jobs rather than ones such as theirs who ran a farm, she never felt like she didn't have enough. I think that is the biggest theme of her story. This family I get to be part of may not have had a lot in the way of physical things, and my dad's Grandpa Orren and Granny Ollie helped pay for many of the kid's toys, they do the best they can to show how grandly they care for their children.

I know my parents do so much for me and I obviously appreciate that immensely, but I know the reason for that is because they saw their parents do it for them. I adore the attention paid to the traditions celebrated and that Uncle Frank came up a ladder and crawled in through the window every year. My dad told me that he didn't know it was Frank until Shirleen, 12 years his senior, told him when he maybe was 8 or 9. The stove incident was before his time but he said he heard about it for years after. He said he got a little suspicious when he saw Uncle Frank out the front window with a pedal car under his arm, a present for which my dad had exclusively asked Santa.

Another reason I wanted to ask Shirleen for her memories is because she's the closest thread I have tying me to my Granny. Someone recently told me that when someone close to you dies, their voice gradually fades from your memory. That might be, but I can so easily conjure my Granny's laugh like she was there chuckling right next to me. But that's because Shirleen has the exact same laugh. Sometimes I find myself making the same little chuckle and am so proud my Granny is still here with us. Anyway, I used my story as an excuse to go out to Shirleen's house and make her drag out all of her family pictures and show me her dolls, many of which she still has nestled in a trunk in the basement, and the old ornaments that used to adorn the Henderson Christmas tree. I have them now and can't wait to mingle them with the old ornaments I got from my mom that hung on her parent's tree.

I hope you all are having the best and happiest of holidays. Be sure to take a minute and be thankful for your family; it doesn't matter how much physical stuff comes with them on Christmas. Keep your traditions close and continue those traditions for your kids if you can. It never hurts to take just a few minutes to be thankful for those who have come before you.

What traditions do you celebrate because your parents did?

My grandpa Walt with Max and Shirleen.

Shirleen's dolls. 

Grandpa Walter