Christmas brings thoughts of years gone by. As I was an only child and had lost my dad when I was just a toddler, my mom and I would almost always visit one or another of her siblings over the holidays.
My mom’s two older brothers and her sister had large families, so we would take turns joining their celebrations.
Uncle “Bun” (Bernard) had four kids who each had their own kids (since my mom was second youngest of seven, I was the baby cousin of my generation). That group would gather in the living room of my maternal grandfather’s homestead, fire roaring in the beautiful blue and white ceramic fireplace, and Santa Claus (who looked suspiciously like my cousin Dot’s husband) would enter through the window with his bag of gifts (obviously to avoid said roaring fire). The presents would be handed out, and I invariably would receive some sort of plaid dress while the other kids got cool toys. (Although, when we would get back home to the city, I would find that Santa had brought my good stuff there!) Playing with my second cousins was always fun. We were a rowdy bunch, and that was tolerated to a point. The kids were relegated to a kids’ table for dinner so we didn’t intrude on the grown-up conversation. When the weather was warm enough, we played outside….usually “cowboys and Indians”. I always wanted to be Roy Rogers, but second cousin Sonny always seemed to get that role (being a boy and all), so I’d be Dale Evans (who was not my top role model…but would do in a pinch). Sonny’s older sisters, Marcy and Delores, were always the bad guys. During warmer seasons, I recall playing a lot with Gloria Jean. (Her younger sibs, Karen, Larry, and Terri were not quite old enough for pretend play.) We would sneak in and out of the various out-buildings, and try climbing up into the hayloft….although I was a klutz, so…..(Fortunately. I never got seriously hurt, although I did manage to fall off a bicycle riding down the hill in the lane and got cinders in my knees. Wow, was that ever painful!) I also remember, at about age 5 or 6, going for a walk through a pasture with Uncle Bernard and my mom and trying to cross a small stream on the shiny rocks that went across…only to find that one of the rocks was NOT a rock at all. I found my beautiful little white baby doll shoe (I was the prissy city kid, remember?) up to my ankle in cow dung! Ugh!!! Serious trauma here. Despite my mom’s scrubbing my shoe until all visible trace were gone, I refused to put it back on my foot until my mom had the shoemaker dye it oxblood red. (Could not really afford to replace shoes back in the day.)
Visiting my Uncle “Dutch” (Carl) was a bit different as his four kids, although all older than me, did not have their own children until a bit later. (Many more stories there!) So, when I was little, my mom and I would get to stay in Bea and Carole’s room, so we had access to their wonderful books. I especially remember “Little Women” and “The Five Little Peppers”. And we would play board games and cards. I remember an old game called “Peggedy” which used a pegboard and pegs of different colors. Players took turns placing a peg of their color on the board. Winning the game involved being able to sneak five pegs in a row before anyone ese noticed. The game was a precursor to “The Game of 99” and “Five Straight”. I also remember a card game called “King’s Corners” I learned there and brought back to the city to share with my friends in high school.
On other years, we’d visit my Aunt Leora (don’t recall a nickname for her, although my mom was “Toots”.) I especially loved playing with cousin Fran’s little stove and watching cousin Roger’s electric train. I always wanted an electric train, but Santa apparently was sexist enough to deny that request. And when Rog was young enough to set up the train, I was too young to mess with it. When I was old enough to treat it properly, Roger was too old….off to college, etc. Fran introduced me to some favorite books, Max Schulman’s “I Was a Teenage Dwarf” and “The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis”. And I have a particular memory of Rog’s sense of humor when I (circa age 4 or 5), while enjoying a piece of roasted chicken, inadvertently had it poking up a nostril. Rog thoroughly embarrassed me by pointing out that his cousin was eating “boogered chicken”. Yeesh!
Many more memories of “down home” are bouncing around in my brain. I hope to get them recorded in the not-too-distant future.
Ahhhh, the good old days!!