It was a long time ago, but Christmas was on its way. I knew things would be different in a lot of ways. We lived in a new place. A bigger town. A different way of life. It was 1944. I had some new friends in my life but even more strangers. Where I had lived for what seemed all my life was pretty compact. My family had owned a little country grocery store in Centrahoma and the six of us lived in the compact quarters in the back end of a grocery store. It was cramped but to me it was cozy. We all slept in one big room. There was a certain level of comfort and security in such an arrangement. There was a lot of love, comfort and cheer back there and I liked it.

Lots of things were different in our new place. It was a stand-alone house and was roomier by far. My big brother and I had our own room as did our two sisters. Heck, this was a better house any way you measured it. But I had a pretty critical measuring stick while my older brother Gerald had his. I never knew when he was just making something up or what but when he told me the house was haunted I didn’t believe him--completely. I was 9 years old and, well, let’s say I considered it a possibility as I tried to get used to our new somewhat haunted house.

The fact the house had an inside restroom and nice white bathtub with hot and cold running water was enough to make me overlook many of the faults of this house. The old outdoor toilet in Centrahoma had held no attraction for me. But cooking and heating with natural gas meant no more chores of hauling in the wood each evening. And did I mention it had running water? Those things we now take for granted were modern gee-whiz inventions that we all loved. But now it was coming up on Christmastime in 1944 in Stonewall, Oklahoma. Most of my close buddies were still there in the Centrahoma 5^th grade. In my overcrowded class at Stonewall I was still getting acquainted.

We had always gone out in the woods with Dad to chop our Christmas Tree at Centrahoma. The tree would be decorated with ropes of home-popped popcorn. There was a lot left over in a big pan to eat as all of us worked hard on the tree’s decorations. Gerald was the guy who could make the old Christmas lights burn which was important in war time, a time when you couldn’t buy new lights and bulbs. Getting the tree up and trimmed was another happy group time.

In our nice living room in Stonewall Dad brought in a “store bought” tree. I didn’t know until then that you could even “buy” them and in our newfound prosperity there also appeared new decorations. Wow, I thought, these are beautiful as I dragged out a new set of lights. They were “bubble lights” and if you don’t know what they were you just need to “Google” it. After we got the tree up there were just the four of us doing the decorating. Mom, Sue, little sister Kay and me. No popcorn this time. All of the decorations were the real stuff. I don’t know what happened to the old decorations but when we got the pretty tree finished we put on the bubble lights. I wondered how they made those bubbles and I wondered at the beauty of this new Christmas tree. I wondered what it cost--and how they made it.

We finally stood back and studied our work. It was a wonder to behold. Christmas in Stonewall. I wondered if Gerald and I would ever go with dad down to the Downard Ranch down on highway 75, again for a natural tree. I also wished we had some popcorn and some more home-made ornaments and I wondered if they had any bubble lights in Bethlehem that night when Jesus was born. But I knew everything was going to be alright. It was Christmastime in Stonewall and I was at home.

Hope your Christmas is Merry and Happy and that you can go to Church Sunday.

Wayne Bullard, DPh

waynebullard@sbcglobal.net