“Christmas is a stocking stuffed with sugary goodness.”
Christmas eve we would hang our stockings for Santa to put little surprises in. They weren’t those big fancy stockings they were our own socks, the ones we actually wore. We didn’t have a fireplace mantel so we hung our socks on our bedroom door knobs and when we moved to a bigger house they were hung on the stair rail. I thought I was quite smart the year I hung up one of my knee socks. But Santa was too smart for me and he filled up the extra space with scrunched up newspaper.
Christmas morning we would dig in those socks to see what goodies we would find.
There would be a small toy when we were little and some small gadget when we were older. There would be new socks and maybe a comic book. When we were older there was perfume for me and cologne for my brothers. Yes, there was sugary goodness, too. Chocolate and peppermint candy, peanuts and bubble gum. In the toe of the sock there was always an onion. Just to remind us we weren’t that good.
The Christmas stocking is my favorite memory of Christmas morning. It reminds me of my mother’s love and humor. We were often at odds. My temper would flare and she would put on her pea mouth and give me the silent treatment but there was always something like that silly onion in the sock that let me know she loved me in spite of our differences.
I miss my Ma. Especially on Christmas morning.
In my family there are few things that would be called heirlooms. First, because we aren’t and never have been wealthy, so rarely if ever, do we have things of any great monetary value. Second, for the most part it seems there was not much emphasis on the sentimental value of things.
I am a bit sentimental though and have a few things I would find it difficult to part with if I had to. One of them is Gramma’s rocking chair.
Gramma got it when she was pregnant with my mother which makes the rocker 95 years old. There are lots of memories that come with this chair. I remember when staying with Gramma, every morning she would sit in the sunroom in her rocker and do her crossword puzzle and every afternoon she would be there crocheting.
When Gramma died the rocker went to my mother. I don’t remember Ma sitting in it but I know having it was very important and special to her. After my parents died the chair came to be mine. It is a treasured possession and I do sit in it on occasion, usually to pray.
The fabric has been changed a few times and I am contemplating having it recovered. As far as I know it has always been in an “old” looking fabric. But I am thinking of doing it in a bright bold contemporary floral. What do you think?
I think it sounds like a rockin’ good plan!
I was born and raised in the land of the Yankees. Not the baseball team but north of the Mason-Dixon line. Then many years ago, decades ago, I moved to Rebel territory, south, very south. I have lived down south, for longer then I lived up north. And when I think about it I have acquired, I guess by osmosis, some distinctly southern traits.
I now know that being 10 minutes early for an appointment is not late but crazy early.
80* is pleasantly warm not hellishly hot.
It is not rude to ask who you are kin to or what church you go to, but is odd not to ask.
When someone does something that is maybe not the most intelligent thing you say, “Well bless your heart”, not “What in the world were you thinking?!”
We crank the car instead of starting it.
Grits are to be eaten not something you do with your teeth.
Things are toted in sacks and not carried in bags.
Sweet iced tea is the nectar of the gods.
And of course, it is y’all not you guys.
So now I am having a bit of an identity crisis. I was a bit of a rebel Yankee girl but I think now I am a Rebel Yankee or a Yankee Rebel or something like that.
But I still don’t understand the appeal of collard greens and boiled peanuts!
I have been thinking about gifts and what makes a good gift. It is nice to get big expensive things like diamonds and trips and cars, not that I have gotten any of those, but the truly priceless gifts are of little or no monetary value.
The thoughtfulness of a card sent with a personal note, a telephone call just to say hello, a greeting with a hug, a quick visit to see how you are, a ride to the store or doctor, or some comfort food brought when you need your good nature restored.
These are gifts of great worth because they show that the giver cares. They are not just giving the gift because they think they have to give something; they are giving the gift because they want to.
Often those who send cards or call, visit or hug, don’t think they are giving a gift at all. Truly, these givers give the best gifts. The gifts they give are not put away and never thought of again, or returned for something else or “regifted”. Their gifts are treasured in the heart forever.
I have so many of these treasures my heart overflows.
Last week I had a birthday. It was very nice, thank you. On special days like birthdays I tend to think about the past. I think about things I have done and people I have known, stuff like that. Well, on this birthday, and probably most birthdays, I was thinking about my Ma.
She didn’t like being called Ma, at least not in the beginning. I was the only one who called her that and I did it because it drove her crazy. The name did grow on her after a while and when I stopped calling her Ma she wanted to know if I was mad at her. Go figure. So for ever after I called her Ma just so she would know I wasn’t mad.
This post isn’t about that. It’s about a tradition of hers. She had lots of little quirky things she said and did. This one was kind of cute and it relates to birthdays. See there was a reason for the first paragraph.
Anyway, when a baby is celebrating birthday #1 three things are put on the table in front of the baby, a bible, some money, and a bottle of beer. The first thing that the baby grabs for is said to tell who the baby will grow up to be. If the bible is chosen the child will grow up to be kind and loving and good. Those that choose the money will be successful and…rich. The baby that goes for the bottle of beer will be a fun person and a live and let live sort.
I have been told one of my brothers went for the beer and the other for the money. Me? I just put my chubby little arms out and scooped them all up!