Milby Class of 1960: Favorite Christmas Memories

Linda Little Strickland has once again given us a beautiful story. This time she has woven a favorite Christmas memory into a story for all to enjoy. After you read her story, please add your own Christmas memories by comment or through an e-mail to me. Karla

A Christmas Memory

by Linda Little Strickland

Exciting days were ahead and I was looking forward to the yearly visit of Santa Claus. The days were cold and windy. All the leaves were gone from the oak trees, but the pines stood tall and straight. The smell of Christmas was in the air, and the dream of a new doll was on my mind.

When I was a little girl I lived with my grandparents. Each year my grandpa and I would bundle up and hand in hand would walk down to the back field and cut a Christmas tree. He would take one step and I would take three, always careful when we crossed the cow pasture to avoid any of Old Rosie's cow manure.

Pa, as I called him, would hum a song, "Daddy's Gone a’Hunting" and hold my hand tight so I wouldn't stumble. As we reached the fence line he would put his axe down and hold the barbed wire down so I could step over without catching my clothes. As we walked along he would point out to me a big oak tree where Rosie found the new calf. Before long we would come upon just the right tree, a full beautiful pine. Pa would chop it down while I stood way back so the chips wouldn't hit me; then he would drag it back to the house.

We had a big old six room house, all the rooms were the same size, we didn't have carpet or drapes. The bare walls and floors were not noticed because it was home, filled with love and laughter and excitement of Christmas. Pa placed the tree in the front room and I decorated it with popcorn strings and colored paper. The smell of pine combined with the old wood heater gave a welcome scent throughout the house.

I was so happy! Christmas was also bringing new conversation. I was so tired of hearing about the war. My uncle Troy was over in France. Mama said he had hitchhiked up to Shreveport to see me when I was born but I had never seen him, since he left for the war a few weeks later. I remember Pa would walk to the post office every week and mail him a package of "Bull Of The Woods" chewing tobacco; the Red Cross just sold cigarettes. Some of the ships carrying those packages didn't make it. Uncle Troy had sent me two little wine glasses packed in a black shell case. Prayer for him was a daily thing because many of the boys from our part of the woods had been killed or captured.

The house was buzzing with excitement. Food was being prepared and kin folks were coming for Christmas, the next day! My mama worked at the shell plant in Minden making bullets for the war. Her younger sisters, Margie and Opal, were each like a mother to me. Camp Livingston was nearby and soldiers were always a’foot dating my aunts. Of course I got lots of attention from these handsome young men in green starchy uniforms.

The time had finally come for my grandpa to get the old red rooster. We cornered him in the chicken yard where Pa made a fast leap and caught him! He was carried to the back yard and there Pa wrung his neck around, blood coming from his neck, I knew he would never chase me around the house again. Grandma had the hot water boiling on the old wood stove, tub ready to dip him into. I helped her pick off the feathers, some she saved to make pillows. I was always amazed at the different parts of a chicken. As she cut him up she would give me the craw and when I opened it up there was the food he had just eaten, I'd go feed it back to the chickens.

My grandmother was the best cook. She could cook the best chicken and dumplings. Sweet potato pies were mixed in a dish pan. Tea cakes were piled high on a plate and always a huge banana pudding, her oldest son's favorite dessert.

I kept bringing in the fire wood as she cooked all day preparing Christmas dinner for the next day. When President Truman said, " If the stove is too hot, get out of the kitchen," I knew what he meant.

Evening had come and surprise was in the air. I decided Santa Claus would not slip by me this year. I was going to sit there all night, propped up in the middle of Grandma's bed, all covered up with the heavy quilts we had pieced together during the year. As I sat there looking through the front bedroom door into the front room at the Christmas tree I felt warm and secure. I heard the wind blow hard against my window and grandma was finishing up in the kitchen softly singing, "Blessed Assurance, Jesus is Mine".

The only other sound was the crackle of pine knots burning in the wood heater from the front room. I had helped my Uncle Robert pick up those pine knots out of the woods. He let me ride on the running board of the truck as we filled it with winter wood to warm us. Pa said that those pine knots were the hearts of pine trees that had grown long ago.

As I thought on all these moments that were passing, there came a knock on the door! Now I knew Santa Claus didn't knock on doors. This was unusual because it was late; company was not due until the next day, so anyone coming that late must be in need of help! Aunt Margie ran and quickly opened the door. A young soldier stood there very straight. My grandmother, who was standing behind my Aunt Margie, said, " Yes , what do you want"?

He continued to stand there, not speaking a word. Thinking he was just a soldier from the camp playing a joke, she was about to close the door in his face. As the light from the lamp flickered upon his face, he was grinning from ear to ear. He said, "Mama, don't you recognize me?".

With tears streaming down her face she screamed, Luther, it's Troy!" I remember Pa sitting up in bed, tears covering his cheeks, unable to move. We all jumped for joy, kissing and hugging him!

Grandma said, "Troy, you come right in here and eat some banana pudding, I know it is your favorite".

The grownups talked way into the night. I returned to bed to wait for Santa and thought how happy everyone was. My eyelids began to grow so heavy, I thought, “I'll just put my head down on the pillow for just a minute. Slowly, slowly the voices in the kitchen faded away and peaceful sleep carried me through that Christmas night and that happy time of childhood.

CLICK HERE to return to the top of the main section after reading comments below, and/or making your own comment.