COUNTRY COMMENTS

December is a month that brings back a lot of memories. In the days before Wal-Mart and Amazon our downtown was thriving. It was fun to go to town to shop and see your friends. I not only remember the lay-away plan, I used it.

So, time moves on, and so do we and nothings stays the same. But I sure love to reminisce and walk down memory lane. With all today’s technology, we grant that it’s a plus! But it’s fun to look way back and say, “Hey look, guys, that was us!”

Here are a few of the things I remember. Do you?

A little house with three bedrooms, one bathroom and one car on the street.

A mower that you had to push to make the grass look neat.

In the kitchen on the wall, we only had one phone. And no need for recording things, someone was always home.

We only had a living room where we would congregate, unless it was at mealtime in the kitchen where we ate. We had no need for family rooms or extra rooms to dine. When meeting as a family those two rooms would work out fine.

We only had one TV set and channels, maybe two. But always there was one of them with something worth the view.

For snacks we had potato chips that tasted like a chip. And if you wanted flavor there was Lipton’s onion dip.

Store-bought snacks were rare because my mother liked to cook, and nothing can compare to snacks in Betty Crocker’s book.

When we did our weekend trips, depending on the weather, no one stayed at home because we liked to be together.

Sometimes we would separate to do things on our own; but we knew where the others were without our own cell phone.

Then there were the movies with your favorite movie star, and nothing can compare to watching movies in your car.

Then there were the picnics at the peak of summer season, pack a lunch and find some trees and never need a reason.

Get a baseball game together with all the friends you know, have real action playing ball— and no video games.

Remember when the doctor used to be the family friend and didn’t need insurance or a lawyer to defend. The way that he took care of you or what he had to do because he took an oath and strived to do the best for you.

Remember going to the store and shopping casually, and when you went to pay for it you used your own money.

Nothing you had to swipe or punch in some amount, and remember when the cashier person had to really count?

The milkman used to go from door to door. And it was just a few cents more than going to the store.

There was a time when mailed letters came right to your door, without a lot of junk mail ads sent out by every store.

The mailman knew each house by name and knew where it was sent. There were not loads of mail addressed to “present occupant.”

There was a time when just one glance was all that it would take, and you would know the kind of car, the model and the make. They didn’t look like turtles trying to squeeze out every mile; they were streamlined, white walls, fins and really had some style.

One time the music that you played whenever you would jive, was from a vinyl, big-holed record called a forty-five. The record player had a post to keep them all in line and then the records would drop down and play one at a time.

Oh sure, we had our problems then, just like we do today and always we were striving, trying for a better way.

Oh, the simple life we lived still seems like so much fun, how can you explain a game, just kick the can and run?

And why would boys put baseball cards between bicycle spokes and for a nickel, red machines had little bottled Cokes.

This life seemed so much easier and slower in some ways. I love the new technology; but I sure do miss those days.

Tulsa Beacon

—CC—

December 9, 2015

Many of us could share “Miracle” and Christmas stories. There were some tough times but unlike some of today’s folks we didn’t whine or complain. We were thankful for what we did have. One of my favorite Christmas stories was shared by Julie Bonn Heath who wrote . . .

Goose bumps rise on my arms when I remember the Christmas that truly made an impact on my life. It was the Christmas when no presents rested under the tree, yet I received one of the best gifts of all.

I don’t remember if we needed an angel to come to us that year because of the bad economy; my parents sheltered us from hearing those things. I know that my dad worked that year on Thanksgiving and Christmas to earn extra money, as he did every year when I was a child, and Mom worked part-time whenever she could.

I wonder if the reason we needed an angel was because we had large bills to pay that year. Although we were only middle class, our house was pretty big. Even though we gathered wood during the winter and burned it in the wood stove, it still must have cost an arm and a leg every month to heat it. As a child, I thought we gathered wood just to make the house cozy, and as a backup for making popcorn and hot cocoa when the electricity went out. I know better, now.

I don’t know if the reason we needed a miracle that Christmas was because we had overspent or underbudgeted or if we were just not making it with three kids and related expenses. What I do know is that when Dad informed us that there would be no gifts that Christmas, both of my brothers and I were upset, and I’m ashamed of that now.

After Dad’s announcement, we children lapsed into silence. As they reminded us what Christmas was all about, they remarked that we had taken the news rather well. It was a letdown, just the same. We halfheartedly talked about making each other presents, but that night as I knelt beside my bed, I prayed that somehow, we would have a few store-bought toys. And, unable to stop them, big alligator tears rolled down my face.

The next evening it snowed. I looked longingly out of the window at the beautiful drifts and wished that the season were over. Our Christmas tree was bright and pretty, but the lack of presents underneath it depressed me. The holiday felt incomplete.

When the phone rang, I wandered over to tuck myself under Dad’s arm and heard him say in surprise, “You’re kidding! From Who?” I couldn’t hear the other end of the conversation, but I do remember that the call was very short.

Dad hung up the phone with a smile on his face. Then, looking at me, he shrugged. “Someone left a card for us at the gas station up the street.”

At the gas station, I watched Dad walk back toward the car with an envelope in his hand. I strained to see the mysterious card. Why would someone drop off a card instead of mailing it? And why not just drop it off at our house, only a mile away? Dad stomped snow off his shoes as he neared our van. As soon as he opened the door and the cold air rushed in, the windows fogged up, adding an even more mysterious slant to the event.

When dad opened the card, $200 fell out! Nowhere on the Christmas card or the envelope was there a signature.

“Guess we’ll have presents, after all,” Dad finally said. “But who is it from?” I asked, my eyes as wide as saucers.

“I have no idea.”

To this day, our giver’s identity is unknown. I’m sure there were better things that my parents could have spent that money on. I bet there were unpaid bills and groceries to buy. But they didn’t spend it on bills. They gave us gifts. Although at the time the gifts were important, they are all lost in my memory. What does remain is the important part of Christmas that implanted itself in my heart—we were privileged to be recipients of an incredibly unselfish act—a miraculous gift that I will never forget.

Over the years, I have kept that particular memory close to my heart. That Christmas, I learned that no matter how little we may have by our own standards, it may be much compared to someone else’s standards. And giving—no matter how much or how little—is a joyous act for both the giver and the receiver.

I agree with what one friend said years ago. “It’s not what is under the tree that counts, it is who is around it.”

—CC—

And last of all . . .

At the Christmas Eve service at a local church, the pastor, quizzing some children about the nativity, asked, “What gifts did the three wise men give the Christ child?”

“Gold!” one child yelled.

“Frankincense!” shouted another.

After a pause, a third asked, “Gift cards?”