the homesteaders daughter: Old Christmas Carols

Tuesday, December 15, 2009

Old Christmas Carols

Old age--from my point of view--has one thing going for it this time of year. I have a huge stock pile of Christmases to remember every evening just before falling into a short nap in my recliner. As it stands now, I have much clearer memories of those 30 years ago than I do the one last December. As time rolls on my recollections seem to move further back with each year. If it keeps going this way one of these winters I will experience vivid scenes from my very first Christmas, at age five-months while forgetting to put the lights on the tree THIS year. It just goes that way in life and the longer we are allowed to live, the more there is to forget about yesterday and to recall about the far past. There is that wonderful thing that happens to us oldsters. (I'm 78) we are given the gift of remembering incidents that happened many decades ago. My mom was still recalling songs from the far past just before she went to the Lord at age 94.

To get a bit serious, there are some slow moving, yet relentless machines at work to plow under some of our oldest traditions. The trappings and scenes of Christmas, and some people's attitudes have changed from the times of my youth. I hate to have to say it, but they haven't added anything positive that I can see. The greatest thing about this special day of December 25th is that it doesn't matter what we humans do or don't do about it; it will go right on being celebrated as the birth of the Savior in the hearts of millions. There is an astonishing phenomenon working its way through the country right now--a movement we couldn't have imagined on ly a few short years ago. There are those who would be much more contented if the whole Christmas thing would go away. It seems to worry them a great deal, particularly the spiritual aspects of the season. Even the decorated tree has become forboding enough to cause some of them to change its name to something less threatening than,'The Christmas Tree."

I have heard it said that the more fanatical people become the more ridiculous they become. Maybe so. As far as that goes, there are those who would call me a fanatic because I am a Christian. My Christianity is not just a bi-product of being born in America, and it isn't a religion; it is a relationship with Christ..not to get excited please, my soap-box is nowhere in sight. I am not a, "Bible Thumper." But, I do cringe to hear unbelievers explain what goes on in My heart and mind as a Christian. When they attempt to do so, it is so obvious they haven't a clue as to who we are. And hey; I don't expect them to. After some research of the different movements afoot that would squash all reverences to Christianity. It almost seems silly, but, of course, it isn't.

Perhaps the traditions could be made to disappear from the American scene over time, but I don't believe it would have much of a spiritual impact. They might do away with the Nativity scenes, rename the town-square trees, change the words to "Silent Night" --as one school already has--not allow Christmas songs at the school pageants, let the retailers tell their personnel not to greet their customers with the apparently dangerous statement of, "Merry Christmas" and it woudn't matter one iota to the faith that can move mountains. It isn't often that I splash around in the political pond, and actually don't feel that I am getting my feet wet right now. But, you know what? I just had to say something about the attacks on Christmas.

No one knows the date of Christ's birth. The 25th of December is just the day that was decided on to celebrate what was a wondrous day for believers. But it isn't necessary for our faith. Neither are, "Silent Night" or the stable with the baby in the hay. We can get along nicely without, "O' Tannenbaum, the school programs with no references to Christmas, the carolers, and all the rest. Our faith and worship is based on something immovable and unchangeable. Still, how perilous can it be to be wished a, "Merry Christmas?"

*The picture with this posting is part of the remains of a very old song book I found in a second-hand store. It has all but turned to dust. I love it...MERRY CHRISTMAS

1 comment:

KathyB.December 16, 2009 at 1:39 AM
How true Audrey, and you are such a good writer, I was laughing at your description of memory...I am getting close to the age you are talking about! Hope I can be as entertainingly humorous about it as you.
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A Little bit about the grandparents

I consider myself blessed to have known my paternal great-grandparents. Allie and Knapp were a couple straight out of "Little House on the Prairie. They lost a child while still in Kansas and soon after traveled to Washington state where they homesteaded a goodly piece of land and proceeded to build a beautiful farm where the flowers bloomed with abundance to match the fruit of the orchard and the fields of grain.

Their second son, Glenn married Pearl, had a son by her but she gave her life to bring him forth. She died when her baby son, Lloyd, was born. The grandparents raised the boy while Glennn married a young woman named Beulah. They had two boys, but grandson, Lloyd stayed on with them . when he was 8 years-old his father, Glenn was killed by a truck load of logs that rolled off a train and crushed him to pieces.

Their lives seemed one long tragedy, yet love was more alive there than most any other place I have ever been. My father, Lloyd married Maudie Clark and I was their first child, born in our own little house on the Moore property. How could anything so right go so terribly wrong??

By the time I came along the grandparents were in their 80's and life happened. My parents divorced and though I stauyd mainly with my mother I spent a great deal of time with my dad and Grandpa and Grandma on the farm...or what was left of it by this time.

There never was running water in the, "big" house or an inside toilet and only limited electricity.

On most days Grandma sat in the parlor in her rocker in front of a standing radio and two windows where the honeysuckle smiled- in during the summer months; the Bible at her side.

The kitchen floor sank in a little and the oil-cloth on the big square table
was worn from the meals that had been served there. A kerosene lamp stood there also and somehow it always smelled like apple pie.

My grandma was just under 5 feet tall, with grey hair pulled back in a bun and little tiny feet. She could not see well and wore thick glasses, maybe not a pretty picture to anyone else but a matchless queen to me, and whenever she asked me to go to her closet and bring a certain box to her side I knew I was about to see wonderous things or to hear grand stories

My family's history was in those boxes and over the few years that I had my dear great-grandparents I learned who I was. Grandpa had his tales to tell also. One such story was the one about a horse kicking him in the chest and he DID seems to have a hoof print in that spot.

Grandpa chewed...tobacco that is... and watching him bite off a chunk of the rich chocolate colored stuff was very tempting. My mother told me that when she was expecting me she was so overcome with temptation that she snuck a piece of the tobacco when Grandpa wasn't looking and had her chew...and spent some time with her head hanging over the dandelion field behind the house.

Grandpa Knapp was an unusual fella. Once a year the grandparents house was scrubbed inside with calsomine, a white paint-like substance. He had to walk to the paint store which was a good 5 miles one way. His walks were going to become a problem later on after Grandma was gone but that will have to come later.