The following letters were selected from entries submitted in response to our appeal for readers’ special holiday
memories.
Small-town Christmas
I grew up in the small town of Tucapau, South Carolina, later renamed Startex. We were one of the many textile towns scattered throughout the South.
I am very proud to have been known as a “mill hill” child as we were called back then. Many lessons of survival and morals were instilled in the people of these small towns from an early age. Those lessons have carried me through many hardships in my life in which I otherwise would not have survived.
As a child in the 1940s and ’50s, this was a magical place in which to live. Our imaginations were worth more than wealth. We were entertained by playing simple games: marbles, tag, red rover, hide and seek, pick a number between 1 and 100, and I see something (you imagine a color and everyone guesses what color), to name a few. We were happy and full of life. We felt protected in our small town.
Everyone knew everyone, and families rallied together in times of need. Our hardworking parents always found time to spend with us. Most of them worked in the mill and walked each day to their jobs. I watched my mama and daddy slowly walking home after eight hours of hard labor. This is unheard of today.
Holidays were times of laughter. We looked forward to each one with great anticipation. Christmas was my favorite, and I planned all year long as did most of the children. We only received one special requested present from Santa. Needless to say, we changed our minds many times throughout the year.
Decorations were homemade, with the exception of silver icicles and strings of bubble lights. Gumballs from trees were painted silver and gold. Mistletoe, holly, pine tree branches and a tree gathered from the woods gave home a festive look. We made angels from lacy doilies. Strings of popcorn and rings of colored construction paper draped the trees.
Food was abundant. I remember my grandmother baking for days. This was the one time of year sweets paraded endlessly, especially cakes, pies and fudge. Our tables burgeoned with turkey with cornbread dressing and gravy, ham, rice, cranberry sauce, candied yams, macaroni and cheese, and endless array of colorful veggies and beans,
fruit salad, fluffy biscuits, homemade jams, jellies and apple butter. Sweet iced tea and coffee flowed freely. We had enough food to last until New Year’s. Fruits and nuts arrayed every home.
Fancy table settings were rare. A crisply starched white linen tablecloth was the exception. Everyday utensils, plates and cups, mismatched from years of use, adorned our table. However, we felt as rich as kings and queens because love flavored it all.
I think back upon those days each year while I am preparing my Christmas meal. I continue my tradition of preparing each family member’s favorite dish. The extra effort pays off when I see the pleasure on the faces when I place it before them.
Yet — somehow those early years hold a special magic that can’t be duplicated, no matter how hard I try.
The simpler Christmases of yesteryears have slowly but steadily been replaced with fancier, finer displays of trappings we’ve grown accustomed to. It’s a little sad. I suppose it’s true that a small child forever lives inside each of us.
The little girl inside me longs for the simplicity of our small mill village holidays. Most of all, I yearn for the unconditional love shared amongst all who lived there. This was what made Christmas special.
Eleanor Payne Mitchem, Moore
Remember and pray
In December 1986, I was a firefighter in California. I was offered a transfer to another fire department in Virginia.
Being a native South Carolinian, I jumped at the chance just to be closer to home, family and friends.
I put my wife and daughter on an airplane, and my son and I drove cross-country to South Carolina.
I was pressed for time to report for duty. I left my wife, son and daughter with relatives in Edgefield and proceeded to Virginia to report for duty. My first duty was on Christmas Eve. My Christmas Eve meal consisted of two cans of spaghetti. At the fire department, we worked 24 on and 24hours off, and you provided your own food.
On Christmas day, there I sat in a motel room. I had no family or friends around me, didn’t know the area and didn’t know where to go to eat. My Christmas dinner was at Captain D’s. I thought about all the family being together and all the good food and fellowship that they were enjoying.
Two weeks later, my wife and children joined me in Virginia. IT was then that we celebrated the holidays. My wife baked a turkey with all the trimmings and vegetables. I finally had my family with me and a home cooked meal.
Of all the happy holidays that I have shared with my family and friends before and after that year, the Christmas of 1986 will always be a holiday memory.
Please remember and pray for the members of the Armed Forces that are separated from their families during the holidays. I know the feeling.
Charles Byrd, Colliers
Shaking the presents
In 1959 I was seven and my cousin was nine. Some of my extended family had come over to enjoy a Christmas Eve meal. After the meal the adults stayed at the kitchen table sharing another piece of my mother’s traditional fresh coconut cake, hot coffee and good conversation.
Bored of idle chatter, my cousin and I went into the living room. There we gazed upon beautifully lit fresh Christmas tree filled with aluminum tinsel and cherished family ornaments. But underneath the tree was the best thing of all, PRESENTS!
My cousin being older than me, suggested that we find those with our names on them and look at them. Well, looking turned into shaking and guessing about what might just be in that box.
We were laughing, guessing and shaking those presents so hard that the bows started to fly off, and then in walks mama to see what two little girls are doing.
She reminded us, in no uncertain terms to put the bows back on the presents and cease the shaking and guessing, because tomorrow we would find out anyway.
Well, being ages seven and nine and not quite sure if the old elf was for real or not, it wasn’t long and we were back shaking and guessing. Now, we thought that this time we were being quiet enough that we were not herd.
All of a sudden a very loud deep voice from the front porch bellowed out HO! HO! HO! One skinny legged little girl and her cousin threw the presents down, ran into the kitchen and didn’t go back in the living room until Christmas morning. I am 56 now and to this day I don’t shake presents!
Zulu Hayes, York
P.S. As we all grew up, that incident was retold around Christmas each year. After hearing the story, the little ones don’t want to shake the presents any longer.
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