Thursday, December 26, 2013

Christmas Journey

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.  

16 comments:

  1. nice...grammas house was always the place i so looked forward to on christmas...all the cousins...i have some very warm memories there...ours was up early as well....we told our boys this year they had to wait til 6...haha...i miss live trees as well....

    thanks for taking us on the journey of christmas with you....

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    1. happy new year to you as well...
      may all your journeys be full of awe and w(a/o)nder

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  2. Sage, this is a wonderful personal essay --captures beautifully the dreamlike compression of happy and sad memories that blend in us-- and you wake up in your own bed. My compliments and admiration.

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  3. Sounds like you had some wonderful Christmas memories as a kid! Yes, Georgia is a whole lot better than where you just came from! I can get used to these kind of winters!

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  4. Beautiful Christmas memories.. a big part of what makes the holidays so special for so many.

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  5. It is a wonderful childhood memory, a story to be passed on through the generations of the digital youth.

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  6. Wonderful memories. We were lucky in that everyone came to our house so we didn't have to travel. I liked that, although I generally got to sleep on a palelt on the floor during the holidays

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  7. I remember that Kodak 126 camera....first cartridge camera after we gave up threading spools. And I remember the long Christmas car-rides, too, though in our neck of the woods the kids always had to scrape ice off the windows in order to see moonlight gleaming off the icy landscape.

    Very nice essay, my friend. Merry Christmas.

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  8. That's so nice - lovely memories of your grandparents.

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  9. Frost in the Carolina's. Do you mean mist or fog ?.

    A lovely kind beautiful story.

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    1. Vince, the Carolinas do receive frost--and in the 60s and 70s, it was even colder. Seldom did we get snow near the coast, but we did get frost and temperatures dropping below freezing.

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  10. Thank you for all the kind comments and may everyone have a wonderful 2014!

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  11. Happy New Year, Sage! Have a terrific 2014 filled with lots of great adventures!

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  12. Things are looking up if you traded in your pickup for a black lotus out front!

    I have never had another Christmas tree than Eastern Red Cedars. For me, they are Christmas and can't be replaced by other types. Ours is now sitting out in the snow waiting to be recycled here in another week or two.

    I had forgotten about my old Kodak Instamatic camera I got for Christmas as a child. That was my first camera I ever owned and I took a lot of pictures with it. I can still remember the whine of the flash!

    Good to hear you have power again. It sounded like a doosy of an ice storm.

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  13. You have some really nice memories and how you feel about them came though in your writing! Hope your 2014 is off to a good start.

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  14. Great post, Sage. We always went to my grandmother's on Christmas Day, though it wasn't a 3-hour drive. Like you, I hated leaving my toys behind, and also remember similar thoughts passing by houses which looked so cozy and happy.

    I was always the one to get up early and wake my sister.

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