When we were kids we always opened gifts at home on Christmas Eve. Then on Christmas morning, the family loaded up and headed to Townley where my grandmother Ferguson lived.
Mama and Papa Ferguson had 13 kids. I’m not sure how many grandkids they had, but if you could get the family to vote for you, you could win an election in Walker County.
Papa Ferguson died when I was young and the only memory I have of him is the one that lives in faded photographs. My mama had a handkerchief that was in Papa’s pocket when he died. He’d put four pennies in one corner, wrapped the handkerchief around the coins and tied a knot in it to keep them secure. I hadn’t thought of that handkerchief for years until this moment.
Mama Ferguson never remarried and lived alone in an unpainted house on the hill overlooking the community. It was an old camp house, with a front porch so high you’d need a parachute if you jumped off of it.
When you dropped in to visit Mama Ferguson, you’d most often find her sitting in front of her black and white TV. Her hearing got bad in later years so you could hear that TV when you drove up in her yard. Inside it was so loud the windows rattled.
On Christmas Day we all started arriving just before noon and by lunchtime, the house was buzzing with kids, grandkids, and other kinfolk who came in from all over the county.
Firecrackers were big then, and the kids and everybody had a pocket full. I remember spending most of Christmas afternoon dancing and dodging firecrackers.
Mama Ferguson died while I was still in high school and Christmas Day changed for my mother’s family. We no longer had that anchor so it seemed each of the 13 families were set adrift to fend for themselves on Christmas Day.
New traditions were born for the Watson family. We still opened our gifts on Christmas Eve, but instead of it just being my immediate family, all of daddy’s brothers and sisters as well as their kids came to our house to open Christmas presents. It was a madhouse.
A few years later when my cousin Bruce Levan became a preacher, he used to read the Christmas story from the Bible to everyone gathered at our house. Normally it was so noisy you couldn’t hear yourself think, but when Bruce read the story, you could hear a pin drop. I’ve never heard that story read better. I bet his kids and grandkids still love to hear him read the Christmas story.
But time marches on and loved ones die. Each time someone passes, it leaves an empty place in the family, and things naturally change.
Like every family, Jilda and I’ve lost a lot of loved ones through the years and I’ve noticed these last few years that our Christmases are much simpler and aren’t nearly as noisy as they once were.
These days we spend a lot of time on Christmas Day watching old holiday movies, listening to Christmas music, but we both remember with fondness all those noisy gatherings at Christmas with our loved ones.
Both Jilda and I want to wish you all Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.
Mama and Papa Ferguson had 13 kids. I’m not sure how many grandkids they had, but if you could get the family to vote for you, you could win an election in Walker County.
Papa Ferguson died when I was young and the only memory I have of him is the one that lives in faded photographs. My mama had a handkerchief that was in Papa’s pocket when he died. He’d put four pennies in one corner, wrapped the handkerchief around the coins and tied a knot in it to keep them secure. I hadn’t thought of that handkerchief for years until this moment.
Mama Ferguson never remarried and lived alone in an unpainted house on the hill overlooking the community. It was an old camp house, with a front porch so high you’d need a parachute if you jumped off of it.
When you dropped in to visit Mama Ferguson, you’d most often find her sitting in front of her black and white TV. Her hearing got bad in later years so you could hear that TV when you drove up in her yard. Inside it was so loud the windows rattled.
On Christmas Day we all started arriving just before noon and by lunchtime, the house was buzzing with kids, grandkids, and other kinfolk who came in from all over the county.
Firecrackers were big then, and the kids and everybody had a pocket full. I remember spending most of Christmas afternoon dancing and dodging firecrackers.
Mama Ferguson died while I was still in high school and Christmas Day changed for my mother’s family. We no longer had that anchor so it seemed each of the 13 families were set adrift to fend for themselves on Christmas Day.
New traditions were born for the Watson family. We still opened our gifts on Christmas Eve, but instead of it just being my immediate family, all of daddy’s brothers and sisters as well as their kids came to our house to open Christmas presents. It was a madhouse.
A few years later when my cousin Bruce Levan became a preacher, he used to read the Christmas story from the Bible to everyone gathered at our house. Normally it was so noisy you couldn’t hear yourself think, but when Bruce read the story, you could hear a pin drop. I’ve never heard that story read better. I bet his kids and grandkids still love to hear him read the Christmas story.
But time marches on and loved ones die. Each time someone passes, it leaves an empty place in the family, and things naturally change.
Like every family, Jilda and I’ve lost a lot of loved ones through the years and I’ve noticed these last few years that our Christmases are much simpler and aren’t nearly as noisy as they once were.
These days we spend a lot of time on Christmas Day watching old holiday movies, listening to Christmas music, but we both remember with fondness all those noisy gatherings at Christmas with our loved ones.
Both Jilda and I want to wish you all Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.
Thanks for sharing these memories. Our family, too, has made some adjustments to the holiday as loved one pass one. This year my daughter, who is a senior in college, suggested that we not buy anyone in our immediate family presents, but rather to make donations to Heifer International instead. We thought it was a good idea.
ReplyDeleteWe bought some token gifts for a few friends and in-laws, and passed out lots of baked goods, but for ourselves, we refrained from the mad search for presents to honor our daughter's request. We made the Heifer donation so that someone who is struggling will have some practical aid. We may have started a new tradition in our family.
Thank you for the Christmas memories. We've never been a large family and with everyone scattered all over the country, we definitely don't get together. So very quiet at our house.
ReplyDeleteHow does that song go??? Precious memories, how they linger.... The older we get the more our Christmas becomes a memorial.
ReplyDeleteI had the best of both worlds today: I went to a lovely gathering this morning, and then spent a quiet afternoon with the dogs.
ReplyDeleteLove
Lola
Merry Christmas to you and Jilda! I'm glad I found both your blogs as I've enjoyed your stories and Jilda's wonderfully touching posts. Have a great week!
ReplyDeleteWonderful memories Rick. I hope you had a lovely day.
ReplyDeleteOnce again, I just enjoy the style of your writing as well as thebstory behind it. Beautifully written, Rick, almost like a painting I can picture each bit of it.
ReplyDeleteOur family too celebrated Christmas Eve and it almost seemed magical when it got dark. When my grandfather died, our family stopped going to Wisconsin and my Grandmother came to our home. The memories of going to their little farm is etched in my memory forever even though he died when I was ten. Things change and now our family celebration is getting loud again with four grands. I love every minute of it. Thank you for the Christmas wishes and I'm sending them back to you!