christmas magic c...1 christmas magic c hristmas magic christmas was magic, the sparkling time of...
TRANSCRIPT
1
Christmas Magic
CHRISTMAS MAGIC
Christmas was Magic, the sparkling time of year, when I was
growing up.
My daddy always cut our Christmas tree from the woods in
Durham County. Every tree was a BIG one that touched the
ceiling. He found the ones with branches that could hold the
decorations we accumulated year by year.
The tree went into the living room beside the front window so
that when the lights were on you could see it from the street.
Daddy’s job was to get the tree and put the lights on it. Of course,
my mother supervised the placement so that the entire tree was
evenly lit with large, multi-colored bulbs.
When Daddy brought the Christmas tree in, the time for fires in
the living room fireplace began. We didn’t use the living room in
the fall, winter, and early spring because we didn’t heat the
2
Carol Herbert
living room, and it was cold!
But, when Daddy brought the Christmas tree in, he would begin
lighting a fire at night and on the weekends so that the room
would be a warm place for decorating and enjoying the tree.
The fire in the fireplace was not a wood fire. Coal was the fuel.
Big lumps of coal brought inside in a metal coal basket with a
handle. Gasoline was the starter. When we were little, we
couldn’t be in the living room until after the fire was lit. We
would clap and cheer from the door of the dining room when we
heard the loud swoosh of the gasoline being lit.
And the room would warm. Then we could go in the room and
decorate the tree, after Daddy had the lights just right, of course.
My job quickly became the icicles when I was old and careful
enough to hang them so they didn’t tangle. All the ornaments
had to be on the tree before the icicle process started. I
remember watching my mother hang the icicles over several
nights so that the tree glistened from the tree lights and from
the fireplace. I was quite proud when I was allowed to put those
icicles on the tree. As a teenager, this was MY responsibility. To
me, there was nothing any prettier than a fully decorated tree
covered with icicles hanging in the hundreds from every branch.
There was the wrapping of the presents. A few we had bought or
made during the year, but most of the presents the children gave
3
Carol Herbert
each other and our parents were purchased on a big shopping
trip Christmas Eve. A big glass pig sat on the mantle in our
dining room (which was really our sitting room as well as dining
room when the weather was cold because it was the only heated
room in the house). Both my parents put their loose change in
the pig throughout the year. On Christmas Eve, my daddy would
empty the pig and divide the change three ways: for Betsy, Carol,
and Steve. That money was our Christmas shopping money.
Both parents would take us to the dime store to shop. We
would divide up with the parents and buy presents…keeping our
purchases secret from the recipients so that Christmas presents
would be a surprise. We went to great lengths to be sure that no
one saw their gift!
After the shopping, we took the presents home and went to
different areas in the dining room and living room to wrap them.
Then, we would start our guessing games. We could look at our
presents after they were wrapped, but we couldn’t touch them.
Over the years our guesses got better and better.
Another Christmas Eve tradition was opening the box from our
grandparents who lived in California. The box had wonderful
things to eat: oranges, almonds, fruitcake, all specialty items
that we were not able to buy at the Durham grocery stores. A new
sweater or, occasionally, a wool or corduroy skirt or dress for
4
Carol Herbert
Betsy and me were in the package. I ALWAYS got the red, while
Betsy got the blue. Of course, blue became my favorite color!
Santa came during the night. We got our school clothes at
Christmas. Until I was fourteen or fifteen, my mother picked and
bought any store-bought clothes we had. A new Church outfit
was also a staple.
The rule Christmas morning was that we couldn’t get up and go
into the living room until the fire was lit and it was, at least, a
little warm. Betsy’s and my bedroom opened off the living room
and Steve’s opened off ours. The three of us would wrap up in
our blankets and sit in the door and try to see what our Santa
gifts were from the door. We each had an area where our clothes
and gifts were laid out.
I have told the story of my first Christmas memory in the story
names “Bikes.”
As we entered our mid-teens the traditions continued. I
remember one year we got a carom board. And a small pool table
was the HUGE gift another year. Games like Monopoly and
Parcheesi and checkers were Santa gifts over the years. Then
Church books became prized gifts.
I do not remember when the tradition of dividing the piggy bank
and Christmas Eve shopping stopped. Maybe when I started
5
Carol Herbert
working in the summers when I was thirteen. Or maybe later. I
do not know.
My mother always had a deep sadness at Christmas which she
tried to cover. Her older sister Edith had died in an automobile
accident early in the hours of Christmas morning in 1948 as she
and her family were driving from Georgia to California for the
holidays. Leon Gilmore, her husband, drove the car. A large truck
had motor trouble and pulled off the road in Louisiana. Only the
right taillight worked. My uncle plowed into the left side of the
rear of the truck, killing Edith, who sat in the passenger seat and
breaking the leg of their infant daughter Camilla, who lay with
her head in her father’s lap. The two boys, Preston (7) and
Walton (5) were not hurt.
Almost every Christmas after that, we would come upon Mother
crying in the kitchen or her bedroom on either Christmas Eve or
Christmas Day. We knew why.
As we got older, we began to participate in the Church activities
planned around Christmas. Particularly Betsy loved to go
caroling, and we loved it when the carolers came to our house,
singing on the front porch.
By the time I was a senior in high school, I began going to Duke
University Chapel every year to hear their choir sing the
Halleluiah Chorus.
6
Carol Herbert
Pictures in front of the Christmas tree were usual throughout the
years. I have some of these still and will post so that you can see
our beautiful trees (with their icicles) in the living room on
Briggs Avenue.
The sweet, sparkling magic of Christmas followed me into
adulthood. I tried to recreate that for my children.
Written November 02, 2013.
7
Carol Herbert
Image (187).jpg
8
Carol Herbert
Image (188).jpg
9
Carol Herbert
Image (189).jpg
10
Carol Herbert
Image (190).jpg
11
Carol Herbert
Image (191).jpg
12
Carol Herbert
Image (192).jpg
Notice how the icicles get straighter and thicker every year.
The top picture is 1955. I was 12.
The second is 1956. I was thirteen.
The next pictures are 1959. I was sixteen. The man/boy in one of
the 1959 pictures is Mike Enfield, my fiancée. Another story!
The last picture is 1960, with Betsy and me in front of the
fireplace. Can you see the lumps of coal burning?