(8 pm. – promoted by ek hornbeck)
Those of you that read this regular series know that I am from Hackett, Arkansas, just a mile or so from the Oklahoma border, and just about 10 miles south of the Arkansas River. It was a redneck sort of place, and just zoom onto my previous posts to understand a bit about it.
Every family has certain traditions that they keep for whatever holiday that they hold dearest. When I was little, it was Christmas because my mum loved it so much. Here and here are some references to her.
As I sit here around 6:30 AM on Wednesday the 21st of December, less than a day from the solstice (thank goodness, as the short days are sort of getting to me), I recollect on what we used to do for Christmas.
This is sort of a stream of consciousness account of what I remember, a gemisch of recollections from when I first can remember to when I was older, and even with a bit of more recent history. That is not typical of my pieces here, but after all, it is Christmas.
I have already talked about some of those traditions here, but intentionally left out many more since it is getting close to Christmas. My mum was a very traditional person, but she had her own ideas about things.
First, there was no opening of a single gift for each family member on Christmas Eve. ALL of the presents were kept until Christmas morning. She loved the intrigue. This a later tradition, but I should tell you now. After the former Mrs. Translator and I were seriously dating, and even after we were married, I would always pen the lyrics for “Christmas” on the refrigerator door grocery whiteboard. Here is the real song by The Who:
Is that great, or what? I just love that song!
Part of the celebratory rituals was participation in our youth Christmas program at my little church. I belonged to the Hackett United Methodist Church, and only recently withdrew my membership due to the national UMC’s failure to excommunicate George W. Bush over his warlike actions and my own coming to grips with being a hypocrite as a nonevangelical atheist belonging to organized religion. Keep the nonevangelical part in mind, because one of my core beliefs is the right for anyone to believe as a matter of faith whatever ones wants. I never challenge nor ridicule those choices, unless the practitioners get in my face.
In any event, we always called the get together at the Church the “Christmas Tree”. We would always have a Christmas Tree, always an eastern Red Cedar that one of the congregation (in later years, often me) would cut and nail to the crossed one by four support. Since it was most often only displayed for less than a week, water was not a big deal. The ladies from the church would always give a bag of fruit to each of the kids, with apples and oranges mostly in them. Then we would have some sort of a play, always with us kids in it, and some singing. Then the minister would give the Christmas message, almost always 2 Luke, and then Santa would come.
My dad had a bad habit of running out during the middle of the service, and he ALWAYS missed seeing Santa come! Of course, as I realized later, HE was Santa, but as a romantic little kid I never made the connexion until later. Many years later, I actually played the role myself, wearing the same suit that my dad wore. Those services normally were conducted on the Saturday nearest Christmas, so could be as long as almost a week before, or, like this year, on Christmas Eve.
Anyway, apart from the church services and the things that we did as described in the links given earlier, we had our own family rituals. Traditionally, Christmas Eve was a day and evening for visiting. We would take home made goodies to friends and neighbors, and others would come to call on us after dark. Uncle Dan almost always showed up on Christmas Eve. There is more on him later on in the piece. Later in the evening, after the former Mrs. Translator and I got serious, we would have the Christmas Eve wine (my parents were new to the tradition) always a very nice German Piesporter.
During that time, my brother and his wife (later his latest squeeze) and child would come from Dallas (after he was divorced, his former spouse and child would visit and stay is a separate room, but would come) and even later the former Mrs. Translator and I would. But this is supposed to be about early memories.
Christmas Eve was always full of suspense, because as I said before, presents were strictly off limits until Christmas morning. We would have a light dinner, because Christmas Day was a feast day. We would get up early, me usually leading the way since I was the baby, and after my mum and dad awoke they would put on coffee. After the coffee was ready, we would open the presents. I was always the “gopher”, getting presents and handing them, one by one, to the intended recipients after I got old enough. I really tried hard to make sure that everyone got theirs in turn, so that no one felt left out.
After the presents were all opened and the trash collected, it was time for breakfast. It was not just any breakfast, either. My dad and brother were big time bird hunters, and even in poor years my dad would freeze enough quail (bobwhites in our area) to make sure that there were enough to go around for everyone. Christmas breakfast was always fried quail, gravy, biscuits, and jelly or jam. It never varied. We would have it around 10:00 AM, with another pot of coffee. The former Mrs. Translator was so impressed with the custom that even after Christmas was no longer possible at the big house she insisted that we buy quail from the grocery store and keep with the custom. I think that she does it with what is left of my family to this day.
After cleaning up the mess from breakfast and a rest to play with the presents, it was time to get ready to cook Christmas dinner. It was always the same: turkey, ham, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, giblet gravy, dressing, rolls, a Waldorf salad (I never liked them), the lime Jello and cottage cheese monstrosity, cranberry sauce, and lots of different pies. There were pumpkin ones, pecan ones, chocolate ones, lemon ones, and whatever other ones that people would bring.
We would eat dinner in the formal dining room, and typically these were the attendees: of course my mum and dad, my grandmum, my grandfather until he died in 1969 (my grandmum was my mum’s mum, whilst my granddad was my dad’s dad), my brother and his wife or squeeze, my mum’s sister, her husband, and kids, Aunt Edna, Blind Cousin Charlie and his wife and kids, and who knows whom else, depending on the year. We always ate way too much, but it was the fellowship at the table rather than the food that was the nice part. Of course, Lucy the Cat was always there.
We usually had Christmas dinner in the middle of the afternoon, say around three or so, and after it got dark we would get hungry again. Sometimes it would be giblet gravy on rolls, but more often it was the most delicious sandwich that exists, the Coronodo Sandwich. They are easy to make, and they are wonderful. If you are using standard sized dinner rolls, you need at least two if you are hungry.
Take the rolls and split them, then coat each side with mayonnaise. Add a little mustard if you want, but I stay with just the mayonnaise. On one side, place sliced leftover turkey, and on the other side sliced leftover ham. Then add a generous amount of Monterrey Jack cheese (I have tried many kinds of cheese on these sandwiches, and this is to me the best for them). Now place both halves, cheese side up, under the broiler and broil it until the cheese gets bubbly and starts to brown. Slap the two halves together and serve immediately with cranberry sauce. This is FINE eating!
The former Mrs. Translator prefers crisp bacon to ham in these sandwiches, and that is fine. I actually prefer the ham, what whatever floats your boat! Note that these sandwiches are not good at all with presliced turkey breast and ham. For some reason they just are not the same. I think that part of the reason is that presliced lunchmeat has too much water added to it and it makes sort of a soggy sandwich. Stick to the leftovers. These days, living alone, I do not go to the trouble to cook elaborate Christmas dinners, but always buy a turkey and a ham and cook them just for this purpose. The reason that I get them now is that they are on sale.
After I cook them, I cool, slice and bag them separately and put them in the freezer. I use sandwich bags so that I do not have to thaw more than I can eat before it goes off, and put those bags in heavy duty gallon freezer bags. That way I can just take out what I will eat in the next couple of days. Be sure to try them!
After I remove the meat, the turkey carcass gets put into the stockpot and simmered for broth. I drain the carcass and, after cooling, pick off the meat from the bones. Then I reduce the broth, add the meat, then let it cool and freeze serving sized portions of it, too. When I need a quick lunch or dinner, I pull out a bag, add some water, and something like a handful of egg noodles. It is fast and really good meal for only a few cents. The carcass goes across the street to my friends’ dogs (the long cooking softens otherwise dangerous bones), and the ham bone goes into the freezer until I am ready to cook a big pot of beans.
Another Christmas tradition was the annual visit from Uncle Dan. Since I just gave you a link, I will just say here that he would show up, usually on Christmas Eve, and sing “Jingle Bell” baldy and loudly until my dad would give him a couple of drinks, and then off he would go until next year.
In the second link that I gave you in the introduction, I mentioned the Nativity Scene that my mum’s dear friend Wanda Hanks handcrafted for her in ceramic. I also mentioned that I thought that I had left it in Arkansas after I moved to the Bluegrass. The former Mrs. Translator called me a day or two later and was quite sure that she did not have it, so I told her that I would look for it.
I could not think of where it might be, but I finally remembered an old box that I had put on top of my antique armoire. I looked in it and found lots of tissue paper, so I investigated further. Sure enough, there was the Nativity Scene. I called the former Mrs. Translator to let her know that I indeed had it, and she was relieved that it has not been mislain. Since I found it, I unwrapped it and set the pieces up (the only Christmas decorating for me this year). The tallest character is Joseph, on the right with his back to you. He stands about five and a half inches. The little angel near the rear on the right was not part of the set, but Wanda had made that for my mum as well so I included it.
This set is easily 60 years old, and has not a scratch on it, is complete, and does not even have any tiny chips on it. Literally, it looks like the day that Wanda fired it. It is very unusual for something so delicate and so old to be in such good condition, and I am delighted that I found it. Christmas night each piece goes back in multiple tissue paper wrappings and back in the box until next year. Before I pack it, I shall write a short history about it and put it in the box so if I get hit by a bus people will know the significance of it.
Those are some of the Christmas traditions that we kept, and as long an my mum was living still kept long after I had married and moved away. I am very glad that our three boys were able to celebrate those traditions with the family, because their grandparents lived long enough for them to remember them well.
If you would like to share some of your early memories, please feel free to do so. They do not have to be about Christmas, but as they say, ’tis the season.
Warmest regards,
Doc, aka Dr. David W. Smith
Crossposted at
Daily Kos, and
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remembering distant memories?
Warmest regards,
Doc