Friday, December 25, 2009

A Country Christmas

Another holiday, another old Toastmasters speech. Reading this now brings mixed emotions as my family celebrates our first Christmas since Grandma's death. This was always her favorite holiday. While we miss her, she would never want us to hold back the celebration. So Merry Christmas to all, and to all a Good Night!



The air was frigid.  Not bitter, but bracing, refreshing.  I lay on my back looking up at the stars, amazed at their clarity, each one a blazing fire, but somehow the heat was left behind as the light traveled across the vastness of space to meet me in the middle of nowhere.  OK, it wasn’t exactly the middle of nowhere, but it was real close, the middle of Kansas; Barnard, Kansas to be specific.  My grandfather was born there, my dad was born there, my uncle still lives there, and for me, that little town of 103 is Christmas.

As I lay there, a 10-year old boy amazed by stars unseen in the city, Christmas Eve festivities were ongoing inside.  We were, as always, at the old homestead, the home my great-grandfather built over a century ago.  In it he and his wife raised 7 burly boys and one very tough girl, most of who carried on the family tradition of farming the fertile Kansas fields.  My grandfather was the eldest of those 8, and at the time I was stargazing, he was the patriarch of the brood.  Inside, he would have been occupying the recliner of honor overseeing the celebration.

The house was never actually big enough for the original 10 residents, let alone the 60 that were bursting from the seams that evening.  Three or four generations of Wallaces celebrate in that house every year, and though some pass on or move away, others enter by birth or marriage.  The house is always warm, almost claustrophobic, but with a palpable aura of love and family that I experience nowhere else.

Thinking back, it’s not hard to recall the menu that night, because it’s always been the same.  Two or three of the women bustle about in the kitchen, serving hot chili and potato soup that warms both body and soul.  While you’re there, you can pick up some iced tea (unsweetened in the Midwest), lemonade, or water.  Coffee is available later on in the evening.  Turkey and ham sandwiches are made with rolls so white and soft that they hardly require chewing, and the whole thing is held together by dollops of full-fat mayonnaise.  Grandma always supplies the bottomless popcorn tin, a family favorite that is always begun, but never seems to get finished.  Debra can be relied on to supply “shorty”, a family recipe that somehow manages to produce a bread-like food from nearly pure lard.  Although traditionally always requested, you can count on seeing it again at dinner Christmas day.  And long before Jello Jigglers, finger Jello was a staple, red and green translucent cubes that slide down your throat as fast as you’re willing to consume them.  Innumerable cookies, crackers, cheese and the ever-present sweet pickles round out the informal meal.

Later in the evening, when everyone has eaten their full and the soup ladles scrape bottom; I would be back inside for the carols.  In a family with 42 first cousins, several managed to achieve musical talent, and one leads us on the piano as careworn carol sheets are found and passed around.  Everyone is encouraged to pick their favorites to sing, although those under the age of 10 seem to have inordinate influence on the song selection.

Sometime during the singing, you can count on Santa Claus appearing, riding in from the night in his Mercury Cougar sled.  His pillow-gut and polyester beard are not always in the best of shape, but everyone looks forward to his visit and the candy he carries.  It doesn’t matter if you’re 8 or 80, he’s sure to encourage general good behavior and scold the bad (and he seems to find particular delight scolding those older than him).  With a final Merry Christmas and a ho, ho, ho, he departs, off to destinations unknown.

When the night is over, we say our goodbyes and return to grandma’s house, and attempt to sleep before the big Christmas morning.  For now, however, I was content to look at the stars, blazing balls that appear so tiny and bright.  For a city boy, the clear nights of the country are an uncommon and awe-inspiring sight.  But the true brightness, and what draws me back each year, is what was inside; the love of my family, the warmth of tradition, and the simple down-home comfort of a true country Christmas.

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