CHRISTMAS MEMORIES
Christmas Memories
By
Carol Dickerson Dunbar '52
"stuff" around the tree at Christmas as we were pretty poor in those days. We
did not "know" we were poor, and we weren't. We just did not have much
money. We were rich in so many ways. Mama and Daddy always had us well
clothed (most clothes were hand made) and of course, very well fed, as we grew
most of our food. I remember one year, sometime between Thanksgiving and
Christmas, Dad, my Uncle Terry and some more men helped Daddy butcher a
couple of hogs. There was about a foot of snow on the ground at the time,
which had frozen over with a crust the night before. There was always a
discussion as to who would kill the hog. Much earlier a big fire would be built
and a 50 gallon drum, which had been filled with water would be heated to a boil
over the fire. Then the drum was placed in a slanted hole which they had dug
down into the ground for easier access. They slid the hog carcass down into the
scalding water so that the hair could be easily removed. The wonderful fresh
sausage, pork chops, salt cured hams, etc. seem to be fresh in my memory
even now. We always had some of that along with fresh made biscuits on the
breakfast table. Beth and I learned to make those at an early age (9 - 10) and
my family says I make the best biscuits ever consumed .
I have rambled enough. Sometime
I'll write you and tell you about watching
Daddy "ball hooting" logs down
the mountain, and our special "trace" down the
mountain where we slid on pine straw
on a home made sled. Dad was good at
making the things we played with.
Oh, yes, I remember the home made ice
cream. One thing we had plenty of
was milk, except when the old cow went
dry which usually did not occur at the
time when we might have had snow!
We did not have electricity until maybe
1940 and thanks to Dad, we had the
first TV in the community. We did not
have a phone until after I graduated
from high school.
Most of this is not Christmas related,
but when I got started I had a hard time
stopping.
Hope you and yours have a wonderful
Christmas. Attached is the
Dunbar home in 1996 just before Christmas. That's real snow!
My Best
Christmas Present
By
Carolyn Carnes Brewer '51
Precious memories often flood my mind
of living in Wolffork Valley as a
child. December was a magical
month as I looked forward with expectation to
the excitement Christmas would bring. I have never forgotten how my precious
dear Papa looked as he came down the hill from the forest above our
house;
a sweet ole' hound dog following him.
To this day lovingly I can just see
Papa with an axe over one shoulder and
the other arm balancing a beautiful
hemlock or cedar. Papa always seemed to
have a knack at finding the most perfectly
shaped tree which had its own
corner of the living room reserved
just for the tree at Christmas.
When the colored balls, garlands and
icicles were all in place, we believed
it to be the prettiest tree ever!
The silver star which adorned the top
was a reminder of the bright star over
Bethlehem long ago.
I was a little girl about five years
old when I received the most special
present that Santa ever left for me.
Early on Christmas morning I rushed
into the living room and under the
tree was a shiny bright red tricycle, my
only other present was a pack of chewing
gum on the seat. With doors opened
through bedrooms I could circle round
and round through the rooms on my
first set of wheels. I would
guess with the imagination that I had as a
child, I traveled many miles to far
away places on my little red trike.
Remembering
Mother at Christmas
By
Dale Denham Shaffield '59
about is my Mother. Mother always made Christmas very special for Ann
and me. Having raised three older siblings she now found herself a
single parent raising Ann and me.
Late October and early November found Mother in the kitchen making
fruitcakes. Dark and light ones. I remember helping by dumping the
ingredients in at just the right time. And, wrapping the cakes after they
had cooled in cheese cloth and Mother soaking them in wine and storing them
till they had "mellowed". Everyone loved Mother's fruitcakes. She made the best.
Mother was very active in our church.
Each year she would take on the
responsibility of helping a "needy"
family. Each year as Christmas grew
near and Ann and I would start talking
about what we wanted "Santa" to bring
us; Mother would remind us that if
we wanted Santa to bring us a new doll
that we had to pick one of our old
dolls to give to the children of the
needy family. So we would all
go shopping for new doll clothes. Ann and I
would clean our dolls, comb their hair
and dress them in their new clothes.
Mother would collect food donated by
the church members. She would prepare a
cooked meal and, of course, one of
her fruitcakes would always make it's way
into the basket of goodies we were
taking. Ann and I looked forward to
making the visit with Mother.
We would play with the children and when it
was time to leave we always thought
about "our" dolls we were leaving
behind. I tell you this story
about the "needy" family because when I look
back now, I realize that we were also
a "needy" family. It's just that God
blessed us with a Mother who always
took care of us and never allowed us to
know we were "needy".
One year Ann and I wanted Santa to bring
us a "Margaret O'Brien" doll.
Mother told us that she was not sure
if Santa would be able to fill our
request and not to get our hopes too
high.
On Christmas morning what did we find
under the tree.........that's right!
You see, our Mother, always made sure
she took care of the "needy".
May all of your Christmases be special.
Christmas
Memories
By
Bob Clackum '54
WE LIVED IN A LITTLE TWO ROOM SHOTGUN HOUSE, AND THERE WAS NOT A LOT OF ROOM FOR A CHRISTMAS TREE. I REMEMBER ONE CHRISTMAS WHEN MY KID BROTHER, RAY, AND I WENT OUT LOOKING FOR A GOOD CHRISTMAS TREE. WE COULDN'T FIND ONE THAT WOULD FIT OUR SMALL HOUSE, SO WE CUT DOWN A LARGE PINE TREE AND CUT THE TOP OFF. AFTER DRAGGING IT HOME AND DECORATING IT WITH PAPER CHAINS WHICH WE HAD MADE AT SCHOOL WE WERE VERY PROUD OF THAT TREE. I REMEMBER THAT MY TWO SISTERS, MARCELLE AND LOUISE, GOT A BETSY WETSY DOLL THAT CHRISTMAS. RAY AND I SPENT THE DAYS AFTER CHRISTMAS PLAYING ARMY AND STABBING THE DOLLS WITH A KNIFE OR STICK. BOY, DID WE HAVE FUN.
THE CHRISTMAS MEMORIES WERE VERY TOUCHING; ESPECIALLY THE ONE BEVERLY WROTE. IT REMINDED ME OF MY PRECIOUS DEAR MOTHER. CAKE WAS A SPECIAL TREAT AT OUR LITTLE SHACK AND US KIDS ALWAYS FOUGHT OVER WHO WOULD GET TO LICK THE PAN. OUR TREE WAS A PINE FROM THE NEARBY WOODS, WITH NOT TOO MUCH DECORATIONS TO GO ON IT. OUR STOCKINGS WERE HUNG ON A HANDY NAIL AS WE HAD NO FIREPLACE. WE NEVER GOT MUCH IN THE WAY OF PRESENTS BUT OUR STOCKINGS WERE ALWAYS FILLED WITH CANDY, NUTS, AN APPLE AND ORANGE. WE ALWAYS LOOKED FORWARD TO CHRISTMAS AND OUR MOTHER NEVER LET US FORGET THAT IT WAS THE DAY WE CELEBRATED CHRIST'S BIRTHDAY.
I remember one Christmas about a year after Dad left home. Word was sent for mom to have us at Aunt B's house. She lived on Panes Ave in Atlanta. We spent the night sleeping on the floor. Dad arrived sometime that night with another woman who we would later call Aunt Kitty. They spirited Ray and myself away to Memphis Tenn. We were traveling in a Packard with no heater and it was as cold as blue blazes. Ray rode in the front between Aunt Kitty and Daddy, wrapped in a quilt. I rode in the back wrapped in a blanket and cried and froze at the same time. That was in 1940. In 1941 Pearl Harbor was bombed and Dad sent Ray and myself back to Georgia on a train by the Travelers Aid. We never saw Dad again for 30 years. I learned that he had tried to enlist in the Marines but couldn't so joined the Merchant Marines. You know, the outfit that delivered the bullets and beans to the fightin' men. He was later injured in the explosion of the Grand Champs, the ship he served on while it was docked next to the ship Texaco in Galveston, Texas. Texas City was destroyed in the explosion and a lot of people were killed.
Most Vivid Christmas
Memory
By
Angie Brack Parkerson '59
I have hesitated on writing about my
most vivid Christmas memory because the
ones people enjoy reading are the fun-filled
times in a loving family. Mine
is not that way at all.
The Christmas memory so vivid in my
mind still brings tears to my eyes when
I think about it. My mother had just
died on Nov. 12, when I had just turned
12 years old. My dad was 38 years
old and could not handle 9 kids alone.
He had given all of my brothers and
my sister away to foster homes. I was
left to live with my grandmother, because
no one wanted me.
I know at 12, you're supposed to know
for sure about Santa Claus. But, I so
desperately needed to believe in someone,
until I still wondered. I recall
vividly, saying out loud after I had
gone to bed on Christmas eve, "Santa,
if you are real, I'll find out tonight."
Then I went to sleep. Of course,
the next morning there was no sign
of Christmas at all. We didn't have a
tree anyway, so that day started off
no different than any other. No one
knew the pain in my heart. Having
just lost my mother, then my brothers and
sister, and then, the reality of no
Santa. It was almost more than I could
bear at 12 years old. About mid-morning,
my dad arrived with a couple of
gifts. I don't remember what
they were, but I finally felt like someone
cared about me just a little.
Little did I know then, that my loving
Savior was in control of my life. He
would love me through many heartaches
in my lifetime, but He would also
bring me more peace and joy than a
million Santas could have ever done
The Christmas Doll
By
Susie Brim Peterson
'59
The war was just ending and there were
a lot of children's homes in Macon, GA.
just as there were throughout our nation.
I had just become the youngest child to
be placed at the home I was sent to.
At Christmas each child composed a short
list for Santa, in order of preference.
These lists were disbursed to the various
charity organizations that participated in
fulfilling underprivileged children's
Christmas dreams.
I don't remember making a list that
first year. I think all of my energy was
focused on being away from my Mother
amongst strangers and trying to wish
myself "home" again in our little apartment.
I believed in Santa and the older girls
at the home fostered that belief with gleeful
enthusiasm. Our "cottage" was electrified
with the excitement of Christmas and
we were caught up in the waiting.
Christmas morning found us breathless
around the fragrant, beautifully
decorated tree that held the place
of honor in our front visiting room. There were
gifts for everyone and the girls eagerly
tore through the wrappings to reveal the
treasures hidden inside.
I waited and watched in amazement of
all the gifts, the excitement, the
"family" sharing in all of this wonder.
I had never experienced anything like this
before and I had no idea what to expect.
Then it was my turn. All eyes focused
on me as our Matron moved the largest box
of all in front of me. There was a
collective murmur of awe through the room. I
stared in surprise. I could not imagine
opening a package this large. It was
almost as tall as my little five years
of height. Where would I start? Some of the
girls were more than willing to help
and in no time the box was open.
There were treasures within the treasure
itself, most of which I don't recall now.
But one special gift filled my Christmas
and the years to follow with its presence
- a beautiful brown-haired doll dressed
in blue and wearing little black patent
shoes. She became my friend and my
confidant.
For me, the rest of the day paled in
comparison to this bright shining moment. I
know because of the years that followed
that there were Christmas carols and
another Christmas Tree and celebration
at the Main Building along with the
traditional dinner, hard candies and
oranges but the gift of this doll had won my
heart and brought a measure of peace
and security to my world.
Through the following years this little
doll went with me wherever I traveled until
we both arrived at RGNS, again frightened
and alone, and started a new life. We
soon found the love and acceptance
of family there.
I left unexpectedly in the summer of
1958 when I located my Mother after years of
separation but my little brown-haired
doll remained and the House Mother was
never able to find her.
A lifetime of years have passed and
I know we both show the "wear and tear"
of living, as we should. My hope
is that my little brown-haired friend filled
another heart with that same spirit
of Christmas when they discovered her
packed away in a dusty box in the darkness
of the storeroom there.
The
Meaning of Christmas
By
Gwen Raby Mansini '60
"Childhood
Survivors".
Painted by an artist friend, it is a picture of a little wooden chair that
belong to our son, Chuck,
when he was small and also our daughter, Susan's favorite toy,
"Bun", a bunny that
was loved to death. The rest of the items in the picture reflect
other things stored in an
attic that have survived the childhood days of several children.
Christmas
has always been a special time to me. I remember deep snows
when
we lived
at Franklin and sledding through a cow pasture and UNDER a barbed
wire fence.
How stupid was that? We could have ripped our eyeballs out. I
remember my mom
making snow cream out of snow. I thought she was a genius.
I remember the smells
of Christmas as my mother would bake these incredible cakes from SCRATCH.
Black walnut pound cake (my daddy's favorite) from black walnuts
from the trees in
Cowee Valley at Franklin. I remember cracking them open on a
piece of old railroad
rail and picking out the meat with a nail. She made a fabulous
fresh coconut cake that
looked like it was a foot high with creamy, white 7-minute icing and fresh
coconut
from coconuts she would put in the oven to get them hot enough, so
they could
be easy to crack open. But first, she would take a hammer and nail
and puncture
three holes in the bottom of the coconut and let the milk drain out.
Once when my mother
was in the hospital at Christmas, I wanted to keep the tradition
going, so I made the
fresh coconut cake. I never realized how much work it took,
including grating the
coconut on a hand held grater. She also made something called
Japanese Fruit Cake
that had a mixture of sugar, pecans, coconut, oranges and the
juices. It was moist
and delicious and also a lot of work. I remember once when I
was little finding a sooty
huge foot print on the floor in front of our fireplace. Later, I
learned that my granddaddy
had done it to help us believe in Santa Claus. I remember one
year getting a child's
iron and UPS (or whoever it was 50 years ago) bringing a box to our door
the next
day and in it was a child size ironing board. I remember my
mother telling me
that Santa must have left it at the North Pole and the elves sent it
on down to North
Carolina for him. I also remember the year I got a string of pearls
in a box with
a card that said, "Merry Christmas, Gwen. Love, Santa."
and it was written IN MY
MOTHER'S HANDWRITING. I confronted her with the box in the
kitchen and that's
all I remember, because that's the day I no longer believed. I
bet half the people
in the world in therapy are there because of the major
disappointment experienced
when they were a child and discovered that Santa Claus was a hoax.
Somewhere
along the way, the true meaning of Christmas has become the central theme
for me
and my family, and many of us realize we don't need another necktie or
bottle
of bath bubbles or another sweater. We now experience
the joy of giving to someone
truly in need and we do it in honor or memory of a family member or
friend. I love
Christmas and all that it means to people all over the world.
Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night.