A Barefoot Christmas
A Barefoot Christmas
When the weather is like this around Christmas, it reminds me of some Christmas celebrations at my grandparents. I know we spent time with my Daddy's family, but my most vivid memories are those at my Mama's home. There were more cousins near my age, and we had spent a lot of time together during summers and weekends.
We always had our shoes off when possible. Unless it was fairly warm, we ran the risk of incurring adult wrath. We considered any temperature above freezing as acceptable, but they had different standards. So when it was this warm, off went the shoes. We were 'barefooted as yard dogs' as my Mama so colorfully put it.
The first thing on the agenda was the Christmas dinner. The cousins would roll out the old flatbed trailer. That was no problem because there a lot of us. The Aunts as we called them, would cover the trailer with cloth and out came the food.
The trailer was covered with some or all of the following:
Fried chicken, roast beef, sweet corn, hot biscuits, plain rice, green beans, okra (both fired and boiled), mashed potatoes, cornbread, lima beans, corn on the cob, collard greens, pork chops, macaroni & cheese, Irish potatoes, gravies and dressings of all kinds, chicken pilau, catfish stew, pork roast, turkey, butter beans (the gray ones-yum!), yams, squash, and many other dishes that escape me right now.
For dessert, there was pound cake, pecan pie, pumpkin pie, apple pie, fruitcake, chocolate cake, cookies of all types, lemon meringue pie, and eleventy billion other things. It was a wonder we could even walk after the meal.
One time an aunt brought 'three bean salad.' This concoction was viewed with great suspicion because it had not been fried, baked, broiled or subjected to heat and grease of any kind. People took some so as not to hurt her feelings. To this day I remember some of the looks given that dish.
After everyone had eaten, the real fun began. The adults cleaned up and gathered in groups to chat or whatever. WE, the kids, headed for the fireworks. I do mean FIREWORKS!
SC sold any and everything. Cherry bombs, M80s, Roman candles, HUGE firecrackers, and stuff I can't even remember. It seemed to include everything up to dynamite, and we probably could have gotten our hands on some if we had tried.
We also got sparklers which were very dull unless used in an unsafe manner. Nobody ever said anything, so we used everything in an unsafe manner. Sparklers were good for 2 things as I remember. We played Sparkler Tag. That will insure Olympic speeds. We also scraped the powder off and found other uses for it.
Our parents bought us everything back then. They also never supervised us. We had a couple of general rules. We never hurt animals, and we never threw them an adult. That would insure an end to this tradition. When I look back on it, I wonder why none of use suffered major injuries, and if our parents were secretly trying to get rid of us through attrition.
At any rate, off we would go to blow things up. I think we even were making crude IEDs. At some point, 2 groups would form and the Christmas war would begin. We would go deep into the woods and gleefully toss these merry surprises at each other. There was a premium on arm strength, walking softly, excellent hearing, and very quick change of direction. At some undefined point, it would stop and we wandered back in or some rest.
We would sit on the front porch and either rock or swing. A few had to sit on the steps. We drank sweetened ice tea, and talked about everything. We also kept our ears open so that if the stories our Mamas were telling in the kitchen drifted our way, we might find out some secret family nugget.
I miss those barefoot Christmases, and the people we were then. Young, stupid, foolish and oblivious in those moments and sure we would not get hurt. We didn't argue about politics or current events. For that day together, we closed ourselves up in our own little world as dangerous as it actually was.
I don't see these relatives anymore because the discussions immediately start with political shite. It goes downhill from there. I long for the days when we only wished to blow useless stuff up and scare each other to death. Better that than trying to or supporting blowing the whole world up and scaring the entire planet to death.
(I hope this isn't used to start some sort of DU war. As bizarre as it may seem to some, this is my story. I think most people tell some family story that would raise eyebrows on some people. Thanks, Grits)
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Those memories are a treasure.
