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| The ice did a number on the Black Lotus in front of our home |
Yesterday morning, we left the land of ice and snow and are now
in Georgia, with a trip to North Carolina planned before we head home in early January.
The past week was a whirlwind as we had one
of the worst ice storms in memory. Someone
reported that there were 60,000 people in our county without power, which is a little
surprising as I thought the population was closer to only 55,000. We spent 36 hours, without power, huddled around
the living room fireplace. But with smart
phones and car chargers, we never felt like we were unconnected! Others are still without power and some may go
for well over a week in the dark. But down
here in Georgia, it’s going to be about 50 degrees and I am upset that in forgot
to bring flipflops! Here is my memoir of
another Christmas journey. The year was 1966
and I was just a couple weeks shy of turning ten.
Christmas always began early in my childhood home. We’d get up before daylight. My brother was generally the first to get up,
usually around 4 AM, and he’d go between our room and my sisters, encouraging
us to get out of bed and to get ready.
We would ignore him for a little while, but soon we were up. We also had to wake my parents who had sent
us to bed under the threat of bodily harm if we went into the living room
before they were up and ready for us to arrive, which meant my dad had to set
up his Super-8 movie camera with the oversized flood lights that would greet us
as soon as we stepped into the living room and were literally “blinded by the
light.” All those old Christmas movies
show us with the color bleached out of our faces and our eyes squinted with
hands covering them as we come in and try to find our presents in a room that
was as bright as if a nuclear explosion had just occurred.
But there was another reason that
Christmas often began early this particular year. Like
the first family of Christmas, we had a journey to make; only we started ours
on Christmas and not before and instead of a donkey traveled in a Ford. After an hour or so of playing with our toys,
and a hearty breakfast of eggs and sausage, sweet breads and fruit, we loaded
up the car for the trip to our ancestral home—to Pinehurst, in the Sandhillls
of Moore County. It was a three hour
trip—all two lane secondary roads that cut through the pine forest and tobacco
farms of Eastern North Carolina.
Although we knew they’d be more presents to open once we arrived, my
sister, brother and I didn’t relish the thought of the drive. We also didn’t like
the idea of leaving most of our toys behind, as there wasn’t enough room in the
car with the three of us and an infant. As we drove past homes, we’d see kids
out riding new bikes and passing new footballs with their dads. Such scenes only made us feel sorrier for our
imprisonment in the car.
Once we got to Pinehurst, we began
the circuit of visiting our grandparents and great-grandparents. The particular occasion I have in mind, we
stopped first at my mother’s home. I
received a Kodiak 126 camera. My grandfather, as was his tradition, had large
boxes and crates of fruits and nuts and he’d give everyone who stopped by a bag
containing an orange and a tangerine, apples and an assortment of nuts. It was his way of sharing and making all who
visited feel welcomed. As we waited for
the first of our Christmas dinners to be served, all of us kids, which now included
our cousins, ran around in the fields laid fallow for winter.
What I remember most about my mother’s
parents’ home at Christmas was the cedar tree—an Eastern Red Cedar, the kind
which gives off a wonderful fragrance that fills the house. This bushy tree was simply decorated: white
lights, red ornaments and silver icicles. It seemed much prettier than our skinny
store-brought tree and since my grandfather had cut the tree down made it even
more special.
After lunch, before we headed off to see other relatives, I
was able to snap a photo of my grandparents out by the holly bushes in front of
their house. It was a little crooked,
but they stood close together for me, my grandmother thin and my granddaddy, a
little chubby (like me). It would be the
last photo taken of them and in a few weeks, we’d again be making the trip to
Moore County for his funeral at Beulah Hill Baptist Church.
Dinner, late Christmas afternoon,
was at my dad’s parents. Before eating, we
exchanged gifts. If my memory is correct,
I received a Boy Scout hatchet and soon became the terror or trees and fence posts
everywhere. That hatchet served me well (and
got me in trouble) for a number of years before I lost it on a scout camping trip.
Since it was already dark, I didn’t get to
try out the hatchet. Instead, we moved into
the dining room for the last of the day’s feasts. We certainly didn’t need dinner for after
stopping at two sets of great-grandparents, who both gave us candy and
fruitcake and other goodies; we were stuffed.
But my grandmother had prepared a feast and we indulged ourselves on ham
as well as sweet potatoes, collard greens, biscuits and homemade pie. It would be late in the evening when we were
ready to head home. My grandmother fixed
a few biscuits with slices of ham, just in case we got hungry and set us away
with a pan of her famous persimmon pudding, a going-away tradition that continued
until she moved into a care facility.
Driving home, I pressed my nose to
the window and peered out into the dark night.
From the east, the tree stars of Orion’s belt rose over the horizon as
my breath formed frost on the car window.
I scrapped it off with my hands so I could continue to see. As we passed the same houses in which the
kids played outside that morning, I saw families gathered around the Christmas
trees in their living rooms. Smoke from
fireplaces filled the air. These houses
seemed warm and cheerful, but I no longer wished to join them. It had turned out to be a special day and I
was satisfied. I felt loved and a part
of an extended family who cared for me.
Somewhere in the night, as my dad drove and he and mom talked, the three
of us in the backseat fell asleep. When
I woke the next morning, I was home, in my own bed.
