Merry Christmas..Early

HOLIDAY MEMORIES FROM TIME PAST

Lets look back, way back now. You have to be old to be considered, to be a part of memory.

Lets say..oh..around 1949, 1950. Long ago, right? History, that's what it is. Yep, ancient history.

Remember grade school, the holidays and how they were treated, beginning with oh..say..Valentine's Day..Remember? Remember you're in the fifth grade, you've spent the day, or at least it seems so to you, but actually maybe three or four hours, you've studied hard..Oh, no, not so hard. Actually it was fascinating. Listening to Mrs Stevens as she reads to you from a geography book, describing life in Africa, and later the arrival of Columbus in America. Boring stuff, yes, I know, to some of us, but to me and the other "teacher's pets," it's heaven in sound.

But remember now, it's Valentine's Day, and eventually, maybe about one in the afternoon, Mrs Stevens turns to the side, to what the whole class has been anticipating, to the huge pile of valentines stacked on the floor beside her desk. She asks Violet or Johnny to come up and help her sort through the many colerful cards, all just bristling with promise..to pick up each card, read off a name to come and pick it up.

We each go and pick up our cards as our name is called. Each one we look at is a thrill, a secret message from a well known and respected classmate. We all do the same, the very same thing, we look for a special one, the one that says, "From..Guess Who," the one we hope is from that little blonde, cute, sweet angel we dream about every day, well, every day since maybe last Tuesday when we stopped dreaming about that little red haired girl. We never learn, never know. That "Guess Who" one is the most important of the year, because it could be..it might be..And that is more important than reality.

There are other interesting times, at least for the boys. There is "yo-yo" season, remember? Look out there, around the playground. Every kid you see has a yo-yo going. Not just a yo-yo, oh nope, that ain't it. Each one has a special yo-yo, remember? A Duncan. There might be a million others, but the only one that counts is a Duncan. Every middle finger on the right hand of every ten year old on the school ground is swollen because of the Duncan Yo-yo string that is looped tightly around it. Each group of kids you see has a contest going.."Rock the cradle, Walk the Dog, Around the World.." Remember? Yes you do if you're old enough. There's no way you could have missed it.

Then Marble season..Oh my, what a time of year..Look back, look at your knuckles..How scruffed they are, dirt embedded in your skin, calloused, rough and thick. Now what in the world could cause that? Oh, you know, you remember. Remember drawing the ring, counting out your marbles to supply half, your opponent the other half, then using your "steelie" to shoot? Remember it's "for keeps" now, don't be a cry baby if you loose all the marbles you brought from home today. Every one you shoot from the ring is yours, but there's always one little "crook" who is better than you and cleans you out. Remember him? I think his name is Benny Collins..Yep, that's it. I remember him well.

Ohhhh, and the most important, most exciting time of all..The Christmas season!!

No, not "Holiday," Not "Winter Celebration," CHRISTMAS SEASON!!!!!!!

Still in the fifth grade, still feeling infinite love for that sweet little..'er..which was it? That little girl with the brown curls..yeah, that's the one..Everyone is dying to stop studying for the afternoon, sometime around December the first..It's just unbearable, you just can't stand one more single minute of Lewis and Clark..The stove in the middle of the classroom is stoked with coal, it's warm and toasty inside, you can see snow falling outside the window.

You fight it, you strain..Then finally, oh wow, finally..Mrs Stevens sends out the three biggest boys..that's you and me and Roger, remember?..To find a CHRISTMAS TREE!!!! Not a holiday tree, not a pine or a cedar tree, but a CHRISTMAS TREE!!!!!

We, the privilaged three..out we go into the raw winter wind, wading the white crystal snow..That is mostly a lost memory here in Tennessee now..It seldom snows anymore, but it did then, in 1950, or maybe it's 1951, the snow is knee deep as we climb the gentle hill directly behind the school, wearing mittens that we consider to be sissy and taking them off as soon as we're out of sight of Mrs Stevens..We find a tree almost as soon as we get outside, but hey, that ain't gonna work..We pretend not to see it and climb the steep hill leading away from school, the hill on the edge of Mr Mike Pat's pasture, where he keeps his son's pony. Of course we pause to feed the pony sprigs of sage that we manage to pull out of the depths of snow drifts that we plow through as we go, carrying our hatchet, borrowed from the school janitor.

Two hours, or maybe fifteen minutes later, we reach the hill top and argue fiercely about which of the many available cedars and pines we will take back. Finally a choice is made, a fine aromatic cedar that is too tall to fit in any classroom in the state, but down it comes with much hacking and grunting. Back to class it goes, and we make it, believe it or not, in time to put nit inside and still catch our big yellow bus to go home for the night.

Somehow, by magic..The next morning, there she is, all magestic, standing proud, in a pan of water where she might live forever if allowed. She stands now, almost half as tall as she was when we cut her down..where the rest went, we know not..

All the day long, as we read "Huck Finn" and do long division, there she sits, all bare, waiting, anticipating..until finally, yes, there it is, time to decorate, to cover her with beautiful glass balls and tin foil icicles. Every member of the class gets to add his or her special touch. Underneath her reaching branches are all the colorful boxes, packages, and envelopes that each of us has brought for this special day, fulfilling our obligation to someone whos name we drew out of Mrs Steven's handbag a week before.

Dear God, I pray that the children of today and tomorrow are allowed this wonderful pleasure, that it isn't taken from them by those who are no longer young at heart and no longer believers of Thy holy word...

For those of you who look on this with contempt..I wish you also to have joy during this holy season.