Christmas Past

I can't remember a time growing up when we didn't head to the woods on Christmas morning. 

That was then, times are different now that we all have families of our own.  These days we have lazy Christmas mornings, watching kids open their presents, visiting with each other while the turkey is being cooked.  The dog pens have long been torn down, and we're never late for Christmas dinner anymore, but that wasn't always the case.

Opening Presents

Christmas mornings would always begin around 4 a.m.  Daddy would wake us up early so we could see what Santa had brought.  There would be three big piles of gifts in the living room.  Toys were plentiful, and each pile always had bags of nuts and fruit.  I think Daddy must have only had nuts and fruit for Christmas when he was a young boy.  Occasionally, Keith and I would have a new shotgun or some hunting clothes in our piles.

The house would be lit up with Christmas lights.  Mamma always did a great job decorating for the holidays.  Our tree would be covered with "golly-whopper" lights; not those perfect little lights you buy at Wal-Mart, but with big, colorful bulbs that would cast a fuzzy glow over the tree.  Ornaments included richly colored globes with indented star-shapes, probably saved from our time in Germany when Daddy was a young soldier.  Tinsel hung from top to bottom, lots of tinsel.  I always loved our Christmas tree.

Play time never lasted long for Keith and me.  Hunting clothes had to be put on and fried-egg sandwiches eaten for breakfast.  Daddy would start warming up the truck.  Our deer hounds would begin to stretch and whine with excitement, getting ready for another chase.  Daddy's old friend, Thurman Martin, would usually pull into the driveway by then, politely refusing to come inside for a cup of coffee.  Keith would be in a mild panic looking for his shotgun shells.  Janet would usually stay home to play with her toys.

You could always hear the mufflers on Eddie's truck long before he arrived at the house; Susan and Granny would show up later that morning.  Momma would still be in her night gown, getting a big turkey ready for the oven.  All of this would be going on with daybreak still no where to be seen.

The Morning Hunt

Christmas morning hunts were different, too.  The CB radio had less chatter on it.  Much shooting could be heard around mid-morning, as the country kids began trying out their new guns.  Anticipation of Christmas dinner would start early.  Anxiety about loosing the dogs would begin to rise.  Small hints that dinner-time was fast approaching could be heard over the radio.

We all loved to hunt on Christmas morning, but we wanted to get home for dinner, too.  Finally Daddy would make the call and we'd head home, knowing a feast was waiting there.

Dinner Time

A "feast" is the best way to describe our Christmas dinners.  Momma's turkey would be golden brown.  Granny and Susan would bring in smoked pork roast and broccoli dishes.  Home-made mashed potatoes and dressing would be ready, with steaming gravy in a big bowl.  The cranberry sauce would almost be dancing on its platter.  Ambrosia and 7-layered salad would be on the counter.  Pots of beans, peas and greens would be simmering on the stove.  The smell of baked rolls would travel throughout the house.  Susan would make wonderful chocolate desserts.  Pecan and coconut pies were just begging to be tasted.  Banana pudding waited in the refrigerator.  Sweet tea would be poured for all.

The women in our family usually blessed the food.  In the early years we prayed where we stood, later we would hold hands in a family circle and pray.

TV trays then came out and adults fixed plates for the kids.  Daddy occupied his seat next to the stove.  As we got older, the boys would line up in the kitchen, each one waiting politely, but ready to pounce given a small opening to the food.  Compliments were quickly given to all the cooks as each new dish was sampled for the first time.  Small talk was bantered back and forth.  Granny was always concerned that we try some dessert.  Hours of hard work in the kitchen would be over in no time; stomachs full, appetite's quieted for a while.

After dinner, time would slow down again.  Bed sheets would cover the left over food.  Naps were taken, football games were watched.  Some of us would head back to the woods, either looking for lost dogs or getting in a few hours of "still" hunting.  Leftovers would be warmed up again around dark, one last chance to celebrate the fine Christmas meal.

For a long time our family traditions remained largely unchanged.  Some years we were late for dinner, some years not all of us made it to the morning hunt.  Some years a few of us were missing; not by choice, but because we each took our turn standing freedom's guard in a foreign land.  Each Christmas wasn't perfect, but I'll always cherish my Christmas memories forever.


Mike's Holiday Tip -- Don't be too late serving dinner.  The boys might want to get in a late afternoon hunt.

Mike Griffin, an old Ludowici boy from way back.

PS - All of my stories are true, or mostly true or maybe just made up :)

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