My grandma died December 16, 1964. I was devastated. She was always accepting of me and seemed not to notice my faults. She had mailed her Christmas gifts to us the morning of the evening of her death. The box arrived two or three days after her funeral. It was a macabre feeling, being anxious to find out what she’d sent, knowing she was in Continue reading
Christmas story
Fleas Come Home for Christmas, Willie Tharpe (Part 2)
Even Daddy, determined to be the “Man of the House,” found it hard to defend Willie Tharpe after Willie set the bed on fire, sneaked the dogs in the house, and left us with a maddening infestation of fleas that Christmas. Though he never acknowledged his embarrassment, Daddy never invited Willie to sleep in the house again. Periodically, Continue reading
All I Didn’t Want for Christmas!
If you have to exchange gifts at Christmas in large extended families, drawing names is the lesser of two evils. Fewer tasteless, outrageous gifts tantalize the hopeful. Desperate relatives save the expense and time spent shopping for hideous gifts that hit the trash or wait to be regifted the next Christmas. Continue reading
Fleas Go Home for Christmas, Willie Tharpe
Daddy wasn’t just a magnet for strange characters. He beat the bushes to flush them out. If that hadn’t worked, I believe he’d have up tacked up posters. Mother had no way of anticipating who he might drag in for supper, overnight, or until further notice. I never did understand why she didn’t murder Daddy. He must have slept sometime! Continue reading
Goodwill Toward Kids At Christmas!
I was dying for a bicycle. What I really wanted was a Spitfire, dark blue! That had to be the most beautiful bike in the world. However, I was a realist. I had heard my mother worrying over Christmas enough to know there would never be enough money for a new Spitfire. That would have cost more than she had to spend for the whole family. I would have been happy with anything of a reasonable size without training wheels. It didn’t have to be new. It didn’t have to have a horn. It didn’t have to be blue. I just wanted a bike.
My mother did make a mysterious trip to Goodwill in Shreveport before Christmas. There is no way I could have missed knowing this. She was a timid driver. “Driving in town” was a frequent topic of discussion among her group of friends. The bolder ones proudly bragged, “I drive in Shreveport!” Most of them “drove in Springhill.” Mother didn’t mind “driving in Cotton Valley.” It had businesses on two major streets, no parallel parking, and no parking meters. A kid could drive a tricycle down Main Street undisturbed.Needless to say, Mother must have felt pretty pressed by our pleas for bikes to plan a trip to Shreveport. She worried a lot that Goodwill might have parallel parking. Finally, the big day came. Though she was secretive about her purpose, I knew it had to be related to Christmas. She even recruited a friend to babysit Connie and Marilyn, the only time I’d ever known her to do such a thing!
She left as soon as we were on the bus, not getting home till long after dark, unheard of for her. There were no packages. The next day, we stopped by Bud Hooten’s Hardware store where she bought a quart of sky blue enamel paint, some sandpaper, and a brush. We took these to my Uncle Albert’s house. He had a boy, Bobby, staying with him. While Mother drank coffee with Aunt Jewel, possibly the dullest woman on earth, Bobby came in, wordlessly took the bag from the hardware store, and disappeared. Mother entertained no questions, so I knew it all had to be related to the trip to Goodwill and Christmas.
Christmas morning finally came. The mystery was revealed. Next to the tree stood two bikes of sky blue, a color never favored by Spitfire! Draped across the handlebars of my bike hung a string of lollipops! I was thrilled with my bike. “Oh, I love it! I love it! This must be what you got at Goodwill! I never thought I’d be able to get a bike for Christmas!”
At the mention of Goodwill, Mother’s face fell. I never dreamed she’d think I’d believe this was a new bike! It was obviously repainted with wear marks that a simple paint job couldn’t fix.
I tried to make her feel better. “I love it. I knew we couldn’t ever get new bikes. I just wanted a bike.
She recovered, somewhat, though still disappointed. “Oh, well, I’m glad you like it. Now be careful. As soon as it was daylight, we were off on those Goodwill bikes, riding the first of a million miles!
Christmas Revelations
We’d put away all the Christmas decorations weeks before. We’d finally gotten our eighteen month old, John, to bed after several unsuccessful attempts and had collapsed, totally whipped. Meanwhile, he’d been entertaining himself rummaging quietly through a dresser drawer we’d thought inaccessible. After a few minutes, he toddled into the living room victorious dragging garland, an ornament in each hand, announcing, “Santa Claus is coming to town. I’ll be damned!”
Rocky Christmas
The most thrilling Christmas gift I ever got was a red wooden rocking horse, named Rocky. I was so excited Christmas Eve I woke up half a dozen times asking if it was time to get up yet. Finally, about four o’clock, Mother and Daddy gave up the battle. We had to stay in our rooms for eons till Mother got coffee made. When she and Daddy were finally settled in the living room, they let us come in to see what Santa had brought. The tree, lights shimmering beneath the angel hair was breathtaking. Off to one side sat my red rocking horse! It was really bouncing horse on springs. I must have bounced ten-thousand miles on Rocky, the frame jumping off the floor till Mother couldn’t stand the racket and slowed me down.
Santa also brought me some other gifts. I was delighted to see the biggest box of all was for me unfortunately containing a tea set. I was initially disgusted, but later found the plates and cups very useful in my construction projects, excellent for scooping mud and sand for road building. The tea pot came in handy for irrigation. Despite my insistence that I didn’t want one, Santa just couldn’t get it through his head that I really, really hated baby dolls. This year’s model was a hard plastic life-size doll with molded hair. I hated it on sight. The icing on the cake was opening my grandma’s gift and finding her twin. There’s nothing better than two of something you hate! I was worldly enough by this time not to announce to the world that I hated dolls as I opened them, so I am here to tell the tale
Billy got the obligatory cap pistols, holster, and hat. I tried to work up a trade for my twin babies, pointing out we could hang them, then have fine funerals. I almost had him convinced till Daddy heard me trying to get his boy to swap guns for baby dolls and …………..well, it didn’t happen. Phyllis got a fine pogo stick, which worked just great till she wore out the stopper on the end. After that, she hopped around punching holes in the yard till she hit a soft spot and buried up. That could be fun, too.
It was a fine Christmas. Thanks Santa, Mother, and Daddy. Oh yes, except for the tea set and baby doll. I told you I didn’t want one!
HO! HO! HO! Deer Season Doesn’t Come But Once a Year
Daddy took his hunting very seriously. This was a man’s sport, an entitlement. Real men hunted and fished. A man’s outdoor gear was a reflection of him. Daddy would have sooner worn lace panties than not follow the unwritten rules. His hunting gear was a necessity, not an extravagance like a dependable car, bills paid on time, and clothes for Continue reading
Most Awful Christmas Ever
One year, the Awfuls made sure their parents had the most awful Christmas ever. Like the rest of us, they couldn’t wait for Christmas. As always, they starting finding their presents about a week before Christmas. Every day one of them showed up with something new. One day, Froggy had a brand new basketball. The next day, Jamey had a new baseball and glove. On Christmas Eve morning Davey buzzed by on a beautiful new Spitfire Bike with a horn. Boy did that make me mad! I had asked my Mother for that very bike. She said Santa didn’t have enough money to bring me a bike. That didn’t make a bit of sense! Why would money matter to Santa? She stammered around a while and finally said parents had to help Santa with expensive things. Huh, it didn’t look like Santa needed too much help at the Awfuls.
This year, Froggy’s mom made up her mind the kids wouldn’t find their gifts before Christmas. For the first time they could remember, they learned about rules. Mrs. Awful kept an eye on them every second they were in the house, only letting them play in the living room or their bedroom. Well, they could go in Crazy Granny’s room, but she screeched every time she saw them, so no luck sneaking around in there: no chances to dig under their mom’s bed or prowl through cupboards and closets, no long afternoons in the attic. She kept them outdoors until dark unless it was cold or raining. It was nice seeing them suffer the way the rest of us did. I heard she even made them do a few chores.
The week before Christmas, the Awfuls played with a collection of rag tag leftover toys just like the rest of us. No one had had caps for cowboy pistols for months. My old red wagon had a broken handle and couldn’t be pulled, only pushed. I couldn’t sucker Billy into pushing me very long, so we had to take turns. We had jumped on Phyllis’s pogo stick so much the stopper on the end was gone and it buried up in the dirt instead of bouncing. Billy’s cars had most of the wheels off, so they weren’t good for much. Even the Tinker Toys were worn out. Daddy had backed over our big tricycle, so it was a goner. Things were looking pretty bleak. We all needed Christmas!!
The Awfuls were still empty-handed Christmas Eve when a miracle happened. Becky was climbing the Christmas Tree after the cat for the hundredth time when the tree-stand broke, dumping Becky, cat, and tree all out in the floor. Becky would have been fine if she had fallen on her head, but she fell face first and knocked out a tooth and bloodied her nose. You never heard such caterwalling in your life. By the time Mom and Pop Awful got in there, it was exciting. The tree was spread across the room, the terrified cat was zipping around the room, and Becky was a squalling bloody mess. Crazy Granny chimed in from her room, so it was quite a party.
Mom and Pop Awful grabbed Becky and left instructions for the kids to mind their grandparents while they took Becky to be repaired by the doctor. This shouldn’t be too hard since Granny was wacko and Grandpa was deaf. Grandpa went straight to sleep. This was just the chance they had been waiting for. They searched the closet and dressers in Mom and Pop’s room first. Nothing there, so they checked the attic. It was spooky, but empty. They checked all the kitchen and bathroom cupboards……nothing. Finally, they thought to check Crazy Granny’s room. Of course she shrieked, but Grandpa kept snoring. Bonanza!!!! Granny’s closet was full! They pulled out bats and balls, puzzles, a tricycle for Becky, scooters, erector sets and more. It was everything they’d asked for. They started playing with their toys, and realized Mom and Pop might be home soon. They were about to pack everything back up when Froggy had a wonderful idea. “Let’s give Mom and Pop a big Christmas surprise! Let’s hide all this stuff.” They barely had time to hustle the packages to their room and slide them under their beds before Mom and Pop Awful and snaggle toothed Becky got back from the doctor. Mom gave them all their supper and rushed them off to bed so Santa could come. No boys had ever gone to bed more enthusiastically.
They tried to stay awake for the fun, but finally drifted off. Awakening to Granny’s screech, they realized the search was on. Sneaking to their bedroom door, they heard Mom Awful’s panicked whisper. “They’re gone!!! All the presents are gone!!!! Someone must have stolen them. What are we going to do???
Pop Awful was sure Mom had just made a mistake. “They can’t be gone. You just forgot where you hid them. You were worried about the kids finding them again. Let’s just think and keep looking.” They looked everywhere….all the closets……under the beds……the attics. Nothing! The Awfuls peeked from behind their door, stifling their laughter as they watched Mom and Pop tear the place up, looking for the missing presents. Just then, they heard a fateful, “quack, quack, quack” as Becky’s little wind up duck marched out of their room, straight up to Mom and Pop. They ripped the door open saw the presents spilling out from under the bed, bicycles all over the room, and their Awful Christmas started.
Nutsrok 