Author's note: Every Christmas is special, but one in particular stands out in my memory. Alma Brown is my father's stepmother, but she is the only Grandma Brown I have ever known. The year we spent Christmas Eve in her home is one I’ll never forget. Pardon me while I reminisce.
"But how will Santa find us?" At 7 years old, on Christmas Eve, that was my biggest worry. We were traveling from Columbia to Spartanburg, South Carolina, in our black 1958 Chevy Bel-Air. The 2 hour trip seemed like an eternity.
My parents had explained that by spending Christmas Eve at Grandma Brown's house, we could avoid having to make at the long drive on Christmas morning. To them, it made perfect sense. To me, it was craziness! Why spend every night of the year in the same house, only to change houses on Christmas Eve? It will sure confuse Santa and upset his schedule. I had visions of waking up on Christmas morning, only to find a bare floor in Grandma's living room, while all of my stuff sat lonely and unused at our house.
"What if he doesn't know where we are?"
I asked for the fourth time. My brother, Mark, who was two years older than I, just rolled his eyes and covered his ears.
"Just shut up," he told me. "He'll find us."
I couldn't understand why Mark wasn't worried. He stood to lose as much as I did. But for some reason he had changed his attitude about Christmas altogether. He hadn't wanted to sit and flip through the Sears wish book with me as we had done every other year. He had even refused a chance to sit on Santa's lap at the store. I couldn't figure him out.
Mama reassured me, once again, that Santa would have no trouble finding Grandma's house. I was skeptical. Mama had never lied to me, but she could have been mistaken.
The sand hills of Columbia finally gave way to the peach orchards of Spartanburg County and the familiar foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains. We dropped off our clothes at Grandma Brown's house and then drove to my other grandmother's house for Christmas Eve dinner.
Christmas Eve dinner at the Husky house was not your traditional celebration. Everyone brought covered dishes. We had everything from Aunt Alice’s macaroni and cheese, to Aunt Bobby's specialty (and one of my personal favorites), pigs in a blanket. They were made from little wieners wrapped in bacon and biscuit dough and baked with just a touch of mustard.
Grandma and Grandpa Husky had four children, two sons and two daughters. All were married and among the four of them, had 13 children of their own, many of whom were also married. In addition to them, several assorted aunts, uncles and cousins (including Helga and Lila all the way from Alabama) also attended the Christmas Eve celebration. Imagine the entire congregation of a small Baptist Church all crowded into a three room frame house. That's about what it was like. There was always a lot of hugging and kissing and more than enough of "My, haven't you grown!" and "You’re getting so big I hardly recognized you!"
We ate our dinner on paper plates perched on our laps. The small children, including Mark and I, were made to sit on the floor so we wouldn't spill as much. This tradition of celebrating Christmas with the entire extended Husky clan, much in the style of a family reunion, continued up until a few years ago when my Grandpa Husky died.
One year, my husband, finding himself unable to tell which cousin was which, accused my grandparent's of hiring actors every year just to confuse him.
After dinner we passed out presents. Each grandchild was given a small present, usually socks, and we all sat and watched as Grandma and Grandpa opened what looked like a mountain of gifts. We waited anxiously to see if they would like the presents we had given them. Sometimes, I wonder how they kept up that smiling and nodding through every gift as if each one were the treasure they had always dreamed of.
We eventually made it back to Grandma Brown's house. She greeted us with a hug and a kiss. Then, crouching down so as to be on eye level with us, she delivered the big news.
"The man on TV just said that the Air Force had spotted a sleigh being pulled by eight tiny reindeer... In our area!"
"Oh no! Grandma!" I grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the bedroom. "We've got to get to bed!"
Before we could do that, however, there is a small bit of business we had to attend to. Mark and I distracted Grandma what Mama filled the stocking which hung on the wall with apples, oranges, nuts and a hand sized baby doll. In this small act, we saw ourselves as Santa’s helpers'.
That night, I slept with Grandma in her room, surrounded by her collection of dolls. Surprisingly enough, I didn't have much trouble falling asleep. Just before I dozed off, I was pretty sure I could hear sleigh bells.
Mark wasn't as lucky. He slept in the room that had once been shared by my father and Uncle Buddy. He lay there, staring into space, trying to fall asleep. He was unable to do so for two reasons. First of all, there was the "Victorian Lady," an enormous painting that hung right beside the bed. Mark couldn't get over the feeling that he was being watched. Second, there was Grandma's cactus. It was a huge saguaro that she kept outside in the summer, but moved into the corner of the front bedroom in the winter. It stood about 6 ft. tall at that time, and kept getting bigger until Grandma finally had to stop bringing it inside. That night, however, it stood in the corner, arms stretched upward, almost human and more than little frightening.
At about 3:00 in the morning, I woke to the soft tones of Grandma's snoring. I got up, walked toward the bathroom and ran into Mark, who was also restless. We wanted to go and see if Santa had come, but knew better than to step foot in the living room without first checking with Mama and Daddy. We were sure about the time, but after much debate, agreed that it had to be close to time to get up, so we slipped into Aunt Judy's room where our parents slept.
Whereas Grandma's snores were sort of like the purrs of a large cat, Daddy's were more like the grunts of an angry wart hog. I had heard them before, of course, but in the dark, in this different environment, I was taken by surprise. I almost ran back to my bed and under the covers, but Mark stopped the snores by shaking Daddy’s shoulder to wake him.
As usual, Mark was the spokesperson for the two of us.
Daddy peered at the clock, trying to focus. He sputtered for a few seconds and then did the best imitation of an exploding grenade I've ever heard. We were told to return to bed and not get up again before 7:30 a.m.
I couldn't understand why Daddy was so upset, but I went. To pass the time, I counted to 60 over and over again, clicking off the minutes as I went. I Made it around four and a half times before I fell back asleep.
Morning finally arrived, and with it the assurance that Santa had, indeed, found us. For Mark, he brought a race set with one car that raced against a clock. For me, there was a two-story doll house with magnetic wands that moved the dolls around inside the house. Of course, both of us received books, fruit, candy and lots of " surprises ."
I ran to hug my mother, who was standing behind us. "He came!"
"I told you he would." She sat down on the floor and watched as both of us showed her our treasures, one by one.
Grandma, pretending to be very excited, told us that Santa had filled her stocking as well. Mark and I stopped playing long enough to share a conspiratorial grin.
Later that day, Aunt Judy and Uncle Sonny came, bringing our younger cousin, Jan, who I especially loved because his presence meant that I was no longer the baby of the family.
Uncle Buddy came too. While the women prepared lunch, we amused ourselves by finding ways to get near the Christmas tree and peek at the packages. Grandma always caught us and made us leave before we could get close enough to start shaking them. At noon, we sat down at the table and gave thanks. We ate turkey and dressing and all the trimmings, including Grandma's green beans (the only kind I would eat because she made them with Grandma Magic).
After lunch, we passed out presents and tore into them. My uncles and aunt always gave wonderful gifts. Then, the women did the dishes and Uncle Buddy helped us play with our new toys, while Daddy and Uncle Sonny slept in the big arm chairs. We took advantage of that time to occasionally sneak into our mouths one of the Hershey’s miniatures or “silver bells” Grandma kept in the candy dishes all over the house. Later on, we all walked next door to visit with great Aunt Ellie and Uncle C.P.. It was late afternoon before we loaded up the car and headed back to Columbia.
I remember that year so well because it was the last Christmas for many years that I would spent listening for sleigh bells. Yet, Christmas has never lost its charm and mystery for me, and after my children were born, I began to experience all those special times once again through their young eyes.
Whether you are celebrating old traditions or beginning new ones, may you have a joyous holiday season that you will be able to remember with a warm smile for years to come. Merry Christmas and God bless, from the Long family.
Published in U S Legacies Magazine December 2003
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