Starlight. Candle-bright.

Starlight.  Candle-bright.  Evening comes in quiet echoes of times gone by.

Gathered around the table we share our memories of other Christmases.

Loved ones whose faces are missing from our gatherings.  Perhaps for merely days or months, perhaps for many, many years.  Each one remembered fondly, tears glistening in our eyes for a minute and then quickly brushed away.

Starlight. Candle-bright.  Expectation for the day ahead.  Excitement around the tree.  One gift and one gift only to be opened on this night before Christmas.  Which one shall it be?  A small one just to satisfy the child in you.  And leave the rest for the festive celebration tomorrow.

Starlight. Candle-bright.  Put on the jacket to guard against the cool wind blowing from the west.  Walking down into the field and looking up to see twinkling lights above.  How was it on that first Christmas Eve?  Shepherds watching.  Angels appearing.  Glory shouted from the heavens.  But now, here we stand hushed and still, waiting, waiting, waiting....

In the starlight with candles bright shining through the windows.  

Peace.  Peace on earth to men everywhere.  That is what we are waiting for.

Today we cut the Christmas tree....

Today we cut the Christmas tree.  A thin frosty rime still lay in the shadows of the house and barn.  But armed with saw and gloves we climbed down the hill and brought it home, held shoulder high.

Today we cut the Christmas tree.  The red-tailed hawk sat on his accustomed branch, unblinking, but yet approving our choice.

Today we cut the Christmas tree.  It sits unadorned, waiting for lights and decoration.  In the field it still was beautiful, just as it was.

Today we cut the Christmas tree.  I plucked bronze oak leaves from its branches and sent them blowing in the easterly wind, down the hill and far away.

Today we cut the Christmas tree.  A little burrow of some small creature lay exposed where once the cedar branches sheltered it.  What will the dispossessed do now, out there with the snow and cold reaching into its home?

Today we cut the Christmas tree.  It will stand guard by the door, lights shining out into the night. They can't compete with stars twinkling above.  But they will welcome one and all to our hilltop.

Today we cut the Christmas tree.  And after the festive season is done ,we will take it down and carry it, held shoulder high, down the hill where first it grew.  And it will rest there with its brothers, telling stories of when it sat upon the hilltop and shone brightly for all the world to see.

Today we cut the Christmas tree. 

Kids and Christmas Programs

I have been reading the memories that many of our Ozark County citizens have of school programs from their childhood days, especially those from one room schoolhouses.  What fun!  I know something about putting on a Christmas program with young kids.  It is a challenge.

Many of you from Gainesville remember the old Elementary School.  This is where most of my memories come from.  For a month or more before the program the music department, band and vocal, were practicing their pieces.  I could hear most of this from my room up above the cafeteria where the band practiced in the afternoon.  The music room was on the other side of the basement hall so that wasn't so noticeable. 

Every music teacher wanted their program to really be the best there was.  Beccie Farmer McGee really went all out with hers.  I am not forgetting the others, but Beccie's are the ones I really remember.

They were always stories about Christmas things.  From Kindergarten to 6th grade, all of the students were rehearsed and re-rehearsed, as only Beccie could do.  She was a perfectionist.   And elaborate.  Sometimes I wondered how she was going to pull it off, but she did

My job, being in a classroom just off the stage( the old typing room for those of you who attended High School there), was to herd the cats...errr, children.....around and onto the stage. And to get them in place before the curtain opened.   It was a job that got more complicated as time went on.  

First of all, how do you lead 30 or so Kindergarten children dressed as Christmas trees onto a stage that is already crowded with decorations.  The answer?  Very carefully.  I ended up carrying the last two in my arms and depositing them bodily in the back row.  Psst...don't forget to smile for mom and dad!

Other classes were led outside and around the building and put in the cafeteria.  Quiet was of the essence.  Sure.  Let's see.  Put several classrooms of second,third and fourth graders all together, just before Christmas, in a large and may I say, echoing room.  And expect them to be quiet?  I think not.

Anyway, we did our best.  Teachers, aides, and others trying mightily to be in control.

Class by class we would line them up and bring them up the stairs...shh..quietly..and lead them on to the stage at the appropriate time.  A challenge, but we did it to Mrs. McGee's satisfaction, I hope.  

One thing that made it all worth while for me was seeing our kids transformed from jeans and t-shirts, into little princesses in best dresses, with their hair combed and sometimes curled...not to mention the boys in clean pants, sometimes a shirt with a tie, and hair slicked down on their heads.  

After the last song was sung and line was given we were all thankful it was over for the year.  Oh wait...how about the spring concert?  At least that was a few months away.  And we could be glad that the Christmas program was done...at least until next year.  Fun memories to last a lifetime, for sure.

Thanksgiving Ties

Later on this week everyone will gather around the table and feast on turkey, sweet potatoes, stuffing, green beans, cranberry sauce, and pumpkin pie.

And the significance of that table, at least for me, is the memory connection.

Who doesn't have memories of Thanksgiving Past?  I can't imagine anyone who would admit to not holding a mental picture or two of how it was when they were young.

My memories of Thanksgiving always involved a trip to my grandmother's house.  She lived with my aunt and uncle and cousins.  All of us would travel to Aunt Taty's for the day...some of us from a distance, and some from close by.

The first thing I remember is my grandmother standing at the sink, peeling potatoes.  She would use a common paring knife but the skins came off in almost paper thin strips...you could see through them.  When I peeled potatoes she monitored my every move...making sure that I didn't cut too deep and waste good food.  That was her motto. 

Aunt Taty would make the turkey and dressing.  She always baked a ham too because my Uncle Bill had been raised by a Kentucky mother...and he had ham at Thanksgiving. Period. The end.

Aunt Nettie brought the pumpkin pie and salad.  Cousin Ruth brought the fresh made rolls.  My mom always made her famous cranberry relish.

All in all we had plenty of  food and more than we needed.

But the one constant that comes back to me every Thanksgiving is the tie that binds us all together.  It is a gossamer thread as light as silk, floating through the air, catching light as it passes.  It is the sound of my aunts and uncles and cousins and my mom and dad, laughing, telling stories, sharing news.  It is the smell of food, spicy,savory odors, filling the house with a flavor you can almost taste.  It is the warmth of the stove heating the rooms until you have to open the windows to let in some fresh air.  It is love on all the faces gathered around that table.  It is grace said by my Uncle Henry as he bows his head and folds his work-worn hands in prayer.  It is that scene that will never leave me, no matter how many Thanksgivings I celebrate.

It is the tie that binds us together, past to present, with a firmness that will never let go.

May your Thanksgiving be filled with all sorts of memories...good food, good company, and good times.

East, West, Home is Best

It seems as if the weeks between September 24th, when we left Ozark County and headed east, and October 31st when we finally crossed the county line, after many miles of driving and many happy days of visiting and being shown the sights of Cape Cod and beyond....it seems as if those weeks were a dream.

But home we are.  And hopefully, we will stay here on the hill for a few more weeks before we venture out on a trip again.

Don't get me wrong.  I had a wonderful time.  Fried clams, clam chowder, donuts every morning with good coffee and better company.  Long walks on the ocean beach.  Reading in my lawn chair looking out over the azure blue of  Great Pond reflecting the October sky.  Whale watch.  Ferry ride to Nantucket and spending the night in a garret room overlooking a cobblestone street.  

Cold mornings, warm afternoons, nights when the stars and the moon shone so brightly you could have sworn they were moving down so you could touch them.  Lovely sunsets, spectacular sunrises.

And yet.....when we set out from Paducah that Halloween morning all my heart could say was...I  am going home.  I am  just a few hours away.  And I am going home.

It is good to travel.  It is good to touch base with family and friends.  I always regret that we live so far apart and our time together seems all the more precious because of that distance.

But precious too is seeing those familiar hills rising up to meet me.  Each familiar house.  Each lovely curve in the road.

Calling.  Calling me home. 

Blessed beyond measure...

A little nameless, wordless tune has been singing in my mind today.

This is the season for thanksgiving, as if we needed a special time for that.

I am blessed beyond measure.

Blessed beyond what I deserve.

Blessed to be alive and breathing.  Blessed to see and hear the world around me.

Blessed to see the sun rise in the morning and the stars crowding over my head at night.

Blessed that I have a home to come to when I am tired and hungry.

Blessed with friends and family who love me for who I am, not what they expect from me.

Blessed.  I am blessed beyond measure.

Time....

If I had more time.....if time would just stand still.....if...if...if.

Can you make time stand still?  I wish I could.  Can you go back in time?  Sometimes I wish I could...go back and say I love you....go back and not say those words that hurt....just go back and relive some wonderful day.

But I can't.  In a few days we will return to standard time.  A mixed blessing to me.  We have lived many months enjoying cool sunrise and extended twilight.  When I was small I loved being able to go out and play after supper....night was long in coming and I had so much to do.

But now I have come to appreciate the shortness of the late fall and winter days.  There is something comforting about waking up and getting ready for the day while the sun comes up in the east..knowing that I don't have to race the heat.  The coolness of fall mornings and the pleasure of crisp days makes work easier for me.  Even as I bundle up in my warmer coat, I smile to think how the wind will feel when I face it blowing in on me.  So fresh...not like the humid hot wind of late summer and early fall.

Snow.  Snow will be here before long.  Perhaps it will wait until the new year.  That will be fine.  Heavy frost takes its place.  I love to see the white crystals on brown leaves and twigs as the sun touches them with fire...sparkling like a million diamonds.

As I turn my clock back I will say good-bye to those warm summer memories....and greet the days ahead...shorter they might be....but with memories in the making.