A Look At Christmas Past
My goodness, where has the year gone? Here it is! Christmas again. Yes, it’s that time of year when families gather, gifts area shared, and reunions of family and friends are common. The sparkle of eyes and laughter of children with the thoughts and dreams of those special gifts under the tree (or setting in the driveway?) Yes, it is wonderful and happy time, for most and all that food. Turkey, pies, cakes and candy !!! As in years past, I guess some of my own children will home. It is good to see smiling faces. Also, at this time of the year, I think of the Christmas that has meant the most to me down through the years. My father and mother divorced when I was two or three and I was raised by my grandmother., “Miss Ora” as most people called her in 1943. In 1944 my father was in the army, over seas, just doing what he had to do to stay alive. My grandmother was caring for my great-grandfather in Julian. There was very little money at our home, just enough I guess. As I recall, the nights were long and cold. Sometimes the bell at the little white Methodist Church would ring, which meant that there was a “Blackout” in the community with monitors walking to see if any lights were visible. The “Black Out” was practiced so the enemy would be unable to see that there was a village below. After a while, the bell would ring again, and it would be the “All Clear”. The church was an important part of my grandmothers life in those troubled times. The days were cold, but filled with excitement for, most of the time, for there was always something new for a boy my age to see or to do. Something of interest to watch. I guess that one of the most interest to me, was the coal burning train that would stop at the depot. That was a busy place in that time. The trains were long and heavy with the materials of the war. Jeeps, trucks, tanks and big guns. All on the way to support the men at war. Late in the evenings, grandmother and I would walk to the Julian Mill and pick up corn cobs to burn. Mr Dave Horney had given grandmother permission to get the cobbs, for without that, she would never have picked them up. That Christmas, with her help, we had a small tree decorated with some home grown popcorn, some orange peeling tied to branches with sowing thread, and two glass ornaments. That at one time, had been part of a set. I think I also tried some apple peelings for more color but that did not hold out too good. As I recall, the tree was small compared to the container of dirt that held the tree up. It was one cold winter night that my grandmother sat by the old wood stove and gently and in a soft and tender voice , told me that some of my friends were going to get new toys and clothing and other things for Christmas, which was going to be the next day. However, there was no money, so there was not going to be anything under the little tree for me, except an apple and orange. She then hugged me and told me about Joseph and Mary and the Birth of Jesus, who had been sent to earth to save all mankind. I do not guess I understood all this too well, but my grandmother said it would be all right, so I knew it would be. We then knelt beside her bed as she cried and prayed for all the hurting world, for my father, for all the men fighting overseas and for me. Grandmother was 67 at this time and as the years have gone by, I know it must have been hard for her to explain this part of life to me. I am sure that she must have felt more alone at this time, than maybe at any other time. But then I stop and remember the strong and personal faith that she had in God. I am more than 70 now, and to this day, I have never know how it came to be, but there was never a happier child than I was to wake that Christmas morning to find the most beautiful tricycle beside that little tree! So what if it was so old that the paint was worn off and some of the spokes were missing from the wheels? It was still the most beautiful and treasured gift that any boy could have wanted. Each time that I remember that time in my life, so long ago, and the fund and excitement that I had with that tricycle. I stop and remember with a thankful heart, that I had a strong and loving grandmother whose strong and unshakable faith in God knew “That everything would be alright” and it was. My father came home several months later, suffering from injuries which he received in battle. In time, he recovered from outward injuries, though he was never quite the same. Times did improve, but I still remember and thank God for my grandmother, Ora Garrett.
Story By Winfred L Garrett