This is more of a memory of a tradition past. When I was a young squirt, every Christmas Eve, we gathered at my Papa's and Granny's house. It wasn't a huge house so between all us grandkids, my aunts and uncles, my great granny, my Papa's sister and her husband, my Papa's brother, and whoever else that were close friends of the family might show up they had a house full. This was just a small two story in the old part of town. We never did a huge spread of food, my granny had had health problems for a few years up to this point, so everybody brought the largest array of cheese, lunch meat, bread, spreads, and anything else sandwich related I had ever seen. I'll never forget the stockings my Granny had made for all us grandkids. They were plaid, Christmas designs, with all our names sewn on a tassle hanging from the top. Mine had a nutcracker holding a trumpet on a background of green. I don't know when she made them because I had had mine since my first Christmas. They were always filled with nuts, apples, oranges, a few candies and usually a toy like an action figure or something. All the folks bought for us kids, nothing real huge or expensive but numerous presents. With 5 to 7 gifts per kid, 10 kids, each adult drew names for each other, most of my aunts and uncles got little somethings for their siblings, it took 3 adults at least 20 minutes to get it all handed out. RIP! the kids would start once we got the go ahead. You couldn't hear over the tipping paper, and thank yous being shouted around the room. The poor living room would look like it had been wrapped by the end. After a little play time with our goodies we would all sit and talk for hours before heading home to wait for Santa. The adults would usually find their way around the table and I would always sit on Mom's knee because the family stories would always follow. I can't tell you how many times I've heard about my Great Papa throwing a hog into the back of a truck by his ears, when Papa farted, licked his hand and rubbed it on Granny's leg in bed one night. She thought he had messed the bed and basically called him everything but a white man while slowly rolling back the covers to get out of it. The time my aunt literally crammed a broomstick handle up my uncle's butt as children. Crude? Yes. Funny? Oh yeah. But they are part of my history.
Granny died when I was six, Great granny when I was 10. The stockings faded away but we still met until my early 20's. Sadly it seems life has sped up. People are busier. The stories and sandwiches were always there. Eventually the gifts started being less as everybody drew a name. We have had kids of our own. Everybody does their own family thing now.
I can tell you one thing. One day, when my kids, bring my grandbabies over on Christmas they are going to get stockings with the same nuts and fruit we got. Nothing more memorable than those nuts and fruit in that stocking. I'd do anything to bring that back.
Hard to type all that on a cell phone with tears rolling down your face. Goodnight and Merry Christmas
