By Allen Hamrick
Hey folks, its Zeb here drainin’ some ink for ya. Here it is near time for old Claus to start slingin’ all them gifts out of his sleigh fer all the little ones to enjoy. He is gonna streak through the air dodging shotgun blasts, birds, and snow squalls all so our little ones can be content on Christmas morn. Kinda makes you wanna break out in song don’t it? Now you know Bull Snort an Buford an Crybaby and Vixen…Bonehead an Pea Brain an Bucky an Shave Tail… but do you recall the most biggest bu-uck of all? Pucker the big lipped white tail had the biggest rack around, and if you ever saw him, you would wanna bring him down……. Well, at least that’s the version sung around the pot belly at Pap’s barber shop. This time of year, all the good that’s in anybody tries its best to sneak out and become a part of the festivities. For some, that good is limited, if you know what I mean. Christmas is the only holiday of the year that lasts longer than the family dinner or get together. Its preparin’ at its finest – cookin’, cuttin’ the tree, decoratin’ the tree, hangin’ lanterns, shoppin’ and buildin’. Why, it lasts near a month. Don’t forget the singin’, local quartets to full blown choirs brave the cold and their health to bring the gift of music to the hills and hollers we call home.
Now I’ll admit, some of them singers could calm storms with their sweet tunes, but others could rattle the ears on a concrete statue and make the moon plug its ears. Granny Dingle decided she would join one of the groups last year and offer her services to the needy. They decided their first stop was at Rood Dellar’s grandmaw’s house due to her being a hundred years old. She came out on the porch with coffee in one hand and her Bible in the other ready to hear the Christmas tunes of old. Granny Dingle opened up her wind pipes on Silent Night and hit a note that was so sour Grandmaw Dellar lost her hearin’ and busted her coffee mug, while all 50 of Rood’s goat herd stampeded and was head buttin’ anything that looked like it was makin’ that awful sound. Granny’s kater wallin’ sent ten people to the hospital with minor butt cheek bruising. Needless to say, Granny has to sing but in her house under the floor boards facing the dirt.
Christmas always brings joy to our hills – deep snows, horse drawn sleigh rides by candle light, the finest cooks preparing their meals and the scent fills the air as it send a warm invite to all who smell it as it drifts through the valley. It’s a good time to be alive. Dads are busy building toys declaring to their kids that they are helpin’ Santa. From sleds to doll houses, smoking pipes to promises of a better year ahead, all gifts do not have to be bought; some of the best require just a sacrifice of time and thought spent on makin’ somethin’ special for the ones you love.
Over the years, there was a couple that in people’s eyes was poor, but at Christmas he would cut the tree and she would prepare the meal. There were no presents but there were gifts, gifts that truly mattered. The man would get his neighbor who played the fiddle, and as he sawed the strings, the man would take his wife by the hand and dance into the night under the light of oil lamps. We don’t see that these days as things that truly matter have fell prey to Amazon and Google, among others, and a whole new world has opened up for people to explore. For me I like the old one. Why, a person can just sit in a chair and do all their shoppin’ with the touch of a finger. I wonder if it’s the reason that folks have lost their touch with nature; without love there is no sacrifice just the need for more.
Ah, that’s just me bein’ a softy, I reckon, but round here we ain’t lost touch with nothin’. We all like to get presents, and my favorite is my own meat loaf and my own bowl of cole slaw with no strings attached. Course I like a good pan of biscuits as well. There’s lots of singin’ and a ton of food and plenty of joy to go around. This may not be the normal for where you are, but it is here. Grandmas sit in special chairs and tell their favorite Christmas stories to all who listen, from little ones to big ones. Their stories fill hearts and minds with imagination with memories of times we only wish we could have been a part of. Some of the stories have a sack of wind tied to ‘em, but they bring a smile to some much needy faces. One story was about a mule named Christmas Cleetus. It is a story that will wrap you in awe, but I’ll tell it to ya some other time as my ink bowl is just about empty.
So, this Christmas, be sure to remember the true meaning of Christmas before it’s gone into history books we no longer read. Sing yer songs in earnest and watch out for the goats. Give a gift that costs nothing but effort – light some candles, take a sleigh ride, send a card – experience Christmas the way it should be with charity and love. From all of us here in our neck of the woods, me and Pepper, Lew and Gracie, Pap and the rest of the crew, have a Merry Christmas and a happy New Year!
