Post #96 – Women’s Memoir Writing, ScrapMoir – Matilda Butler and Kendra Bonnett
Scrapbooking Our Memories, One Story at a Time
Sometimes a family member surprises us with a gesture that didn’t seem possible. Mary Edge shares her award-winning memoir vignette with us, a story about a Christmas Tree that will always live in the memory of her family.
FAVORITE HOLIDAY MEMOIR CONTEST WINNER, FINALIST
The 1958 Christmas Tree
Mary Edge
The year was 1958. At that time the family consisted of Daddy, Mama, Papa, (my mother’s father who lived with us during our childhood and adored us all). We were six kids then. By 1966 the number grew to ten kids, but I won’t go into that story this time.
We lived in a very old rental house that both Daddy and Papa found in a small rural community. My dad and grandfather worked for the landlord doing odd jobs for a break in the rent. It was a large home that had four bedrooms, a living room, formal dining room, expansive kitchen, and one bathroom. Later I found out it had been built in the 1800’s.
Even as a young girl I could see that the old house must have been a luxurious home at one time. The house needed paint inside and out, and the windows were single pane windows, the kind that have bubbles in the glass, and that seem to give a wavy appearance to the objects on the other side. The house didn’t hold much heat in the winter, and yet we never seemed cold. It could have been because my mother was always cooking in the kitchen, or because it always gave us a warm feeling to have her around. The old house sat about 200 feet from a two lane highway that ran right through the middle of town. Our back yard was an old creek that had dried up, but offered a view of huge sycamore trees, grasses and large boulders. And a few feet to the side was a gigantic barn where Daddy and Papa stored their tools and equipment they used for work.
The town’s population was a whopping 200. There was a grocery store, post office, a gas station, a bar, an elementary school, and a church. Across the street from the old house was the bar, and it was called the 19th Hole, because about two miles south there was a golf course. Down the street to the west of the 19th Hole was the grocery store and a little further west was the gas station, and around the corner before you got to the gas station, was the post office, which was a gathering place for all the locals to hang out when they went to get their mail. And there was a strip of granaries where local farmers stored their grain that ran east and west the length of the town.
The elementary school we attended was a two room school. Kindergarten through fourth grade was in Mrs. Lewis’s class and Mr. Hamilton had fifth grade through eighth grade. In-between the two classrooms was one big room with a stage and that is where we had all of our school programs and meetings, and where commencement ceremonies were held when I graduated from eighth grade.
The only church was Immaculate Conception Catholic church. It was at the far easterly end of town. Fr. McSweeny was our pastor. He talked with an Irish accent and was a very kind man. He knew that St. Jude was my mother’s patron saint and once, when he went to visit his homeland in Ireland, he brought back a lovely statue of St. Jude and presented it to my mother as a gift. She cherished it and we still have it to this day. My dad and grandfather volunteered their services by helping with the gardening on the church grounds. And that was where we worshiped and gave thanks for all our blessings.
My parents felt that it was a good community to raise their children, a place where they were well known and respected for the people they were rather than their income status. The community accepted us and they were always helping us with clothes that their children had out grown. They were hand-me-downs, but my mother was so resourceful. She would take the clothes apart, alter hems, mix and match to give the clothes a new appearance. We always looked stylish and blended in very well with the rest of the children. One neighbor, she lived next door to the 19th Hole, raised chickens and periodically give us some of her beautiful brown eggs.
The grocer, Mr. Cain, was also a butcher and he give all the parts of the beef he was going to discard to my dad. There would be beef bones, and parts that are now delicacies and that we have to pay for these days. Mama would make the best meals out those gifts from God and Mr. Cain! And in exchange my parents and grandfather would do small deeds to repay for their kind gestures. Mama would give them home made tortillas, enchiladas, or her famous sugar cookies. Daddy and Papa would do yard work, or repay with whatever they could to show their gratitude. They were always demonstrating to us to give back in some way.
We lived in a very friendly and family-oriented place. The town was called Tres Pinos, which means Three Pines in Spanish. The weather was hot and dry and yet we could usually count on a nice gentle breeze in the late afternoons to cool the evenings down.
Summers were so much fun in Tres Pinos. Several of us kids would all get up early, do our chores, and about 9:00 am we would walk from one end of town to the other calling out each other from our homes. That’s if we weren’t already waiting out in our front porches. We made sure to have our baseball mitts, balls and bats — whatever we had to share with each other. If we weren’t done with chores, we would pitch in to help each other so we could all go play ball at the Tres Pinos school ball field. By the time we got started, it was around 10 am. The games usually lasted until about lunch time, or if we could see that it was going to be an extra hot day, we would end before noon.
The youngest of the kids was about seven years old, and the oldest two were my best friend Kathy and me. We were twelve years old and took charge of everything. The kids all looked up to us, and we were like big sisters to all of them. Sometimes we got a little bossy with our own siblings but we knew if we got home or if one of us came home squabbling we would not be allowed to go play and it would be the end of our summer fun! So we all made sure we took care of each other and settled our differences before we got home! After our baseball game, we would collect our nickels, dimes, and quarters together. Sometimes, if we were short on funds, one of us would run home and get some extra change from our parents. Off to the grocery store we would go, skipping and running, everybody talking at the same time! Our pet dogs were always with us too and they seemed to be smiling to be included with our fun! If we had enough money we would buy hot dogs, candy and soda. Sometimes it was just candy and soda, maybe some bags of peanuts. But it was the weenie roasts that were so much fun!
We would rotate going to our homes, and we all had a constructed fire pit in our backyards. We had dug a hole, lined it with rocks, deep enough to hold kindling and small pieces of wood. Kathy and I were always in charge of getting the fire started. We would roast our hotdogs, and they were the best tasting hotdogs ever! Even with the bits of grit and dirt that might get into them from the sharp sticks we used to stick through them to hold them over the fire. The little kids were a little clumsy and would drop one or two, but we would dust them off and they were just as good.
One day after having our lunch, we decided to go to the grain barns and sing and yell out our names to listen to our echoes. We climbed the platform where the trucks would back up to dock and load the sacks of grain. I can still remember exactly who was there. I remember most my brother David’s best friend Raymond.
Raymond’s mother was a single parent and she had two sons, Raymond who was nine and a teenage son who went to high school in a neighboring town. They were a close family and Raymond’s teenage brother took on a father’s role when their father abandoned them. He was quiet and very reserved, and their mother was very proud of her son who took good care of his little brother Raymond. Raymond’s family lived across the highway and next door to the grocery store.
Well, back to the summer afternoon when we are all yelling out our names, singing, and dogs barking. All of a sudden we were surrounded by bees! They were swarming all around us, and the little ones got so scared! What we had not noticed is that there was a bee hive on the wall of the barn in one of the knot holes of the wood. Our screaming and yelling must have disturbed them and what had been a fun filled afternoon turned into a chaotic run for your life situation. But Kathy and I, being the protectors of our group, started swatting off the bees and told the kids to run! We all ran waving our hands above us to make the bees leave us alone, and were scared out of our wits! Once we were safe in an open field, we told the kids to keep still for Kathy and I to inspect them. Everyone seemed okay except for Raymond. I can still see and hear Raymond come to me with tears steaming from his sky blue eyes looking up at me with the sun shining in his face, beads of sweat rolling from his brow, and between sobs asking me, “Mary, do I have any bees on me”? To my surprise indeed, he had one bee pinned to his ear like an ear cuff! My first instinct was to scream, but I knew I would frighten him more, so I quickly told him to stand still and immediately flicked the bee off of his ear! We never went back to the grain barns again!
Summer came and went and soon it was December. Work was scarce because Daddy and Papa worked in the fields and so money was limited to food, utilities and housing. Christmas was coming and we couldn’t afford to buy a Christmas tree. Mama had managed to save some money during the summer and had ordered Christmas gifts for us from a catalog. She hid them in her closet and I pretended not to know her secret.
The week of Christmas my brother David was playing with his friend Raymond. Raymond’s mother and brother were going to go to a Christmas tree farm and cut a Christmas tree down. They asked my parents if David could accompany them. He was so excited to hear Mama and Daddy agree to allow him to go on the Christmas tree cutting excursion. It was the first time Raymond’s family had cut a tree, so what seemed to be an average size tree turned out to be so big and tall, they could not even get it in the front door with out doing some major trimming and cutting the bottom of the tree off! When they finally got the tree in the house it was time to decorate it, but not before my brother David asking what was going to happen to the trimmings. Raymond’s mother said they were just going to throw them away and offered them to David. His mind must have been going a mile a minute while the tree trimming was going on!
David dragged the tree stump with all the branches home. It was late afternoon and with excitement and anticipation in his voice he told Mama he had a surprise, but we couldn’t see it yet and not to go in the barn. But he asked if he could use the tools in the barn to work on the surprise. Mama agreed but told him he needed to come in before dark. We could hear hammering, the clanging of buckets Daddy and Papa used to use for picking apricots in the summer. We all wondered what David was up to, but dismissed the curiosity and went about our business.
Just before dusk David was ready to reveal his project. He came in the house and told us all to close our eyes, and not to look until he was ready. We could hear the screen door open and close behind him and his grunts from carrying something, but we didn’t know what. We were all standing in the kitchen doorway from the dining room, my little sisters had their eyes closed tight with their small hands over their eyes. Mama had our baby brother in her arms with a smile on her face and her eyes closed, and Daddy’s, and Papa’s eyes were closed too, including me. After listening to David’s movements and footsteps, he finally said, “Open your eyes”! He was so excited and there stood David with a Christmas tree for the family! He had taken one of the buckets, planted an old grape stake in the middle of the bucket, and packed it tight with dirt. Alternating the branches on the stake, and securing them to the stake with wire, he constructed a tree. Kind of a Martha Stewart project, but instead it was a nine-year-old boy who had a vision and passion to have a Christmas tree for his family.
The joy and the excitement in David’s face was enough of a gift! Our faces all lit up to see what he had presented us with! We were thrilled to have a Christmas tree. We decorated it immediately after dinner. We made garlands out of paper and popcorn, and I really can’t remember where the rest of the decorations came from, but I remember Mama placing the gifts she had been hiding in her closet under the tree to give it the final touch.
Mama’s Sugar Cookies
2 cubes of softened butter
1 cup of sugar
1 egg
3 tablespoons milk or cream
1 teaspoon vanilla
3 cups flour
1 ½ teaspoon baking powder
½ teaspoon salt
Combine the dry ingredients and set aside. Cream butter, add sugar, vanilla, and add your eggs one at a time. Stir until smooth. Add to the dry ingredients to your mixture and form into a ball. Refrigerate for approximately one hour. Preheat your oven at 400. Flour your surface and roll out to a thickness of approximately 1/8 of an inch. Cut with your favorite cookie cutter and place about one inch apart on a cookie sheet. Bake 5 to 8 minutes. Remove from baking sheet immediately to a cooling rack. This recipe makes 5 to 6 dozen depending on the size of your cookie cutter. Enjoy!
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This story is dedicated to my brothers and sisters whom I love so deeply and dearly. Those of us who can still remember that day, my brother David, my sister Anita, my sister Tina, and Daddy, have shared this story with the rest of the family and it touches our hearts in the most tender and loving way. It wasn’t so much that we had a Christmas tree, but the love and thought that David expressed to us by making the Christmas tree in the year of 1958. It was the most beautiful and special Christmas tree we have ever had. — Mary Edge
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