Hattie’s View: Now and Then

Now and then I have flashbacks of past holidays, the excitement, warmth and strength of three generations of family ties.

Mom recalls the fattening of a choice turkey for Thanksgiving.

A ‘time’ when she and her younger brothers successfully chased their holiday bird with corn.

Then the following year the Turkey outran them losing them at the creek.

The focus then became catching the fattest Hen in the yard. Mr Turkey musta’ warned the hens what was ahead.

Of course, now we can order our Turkey raw or ready to eat.

The following Christmas Mom’s Pa chopped down a well chosen Fir tree, dragged it home with the help of the mule. Grandma, Mom and others cheered from the back porch. It was in the 1920’s. Then money was scarce. Christmases were simple: pine boughs, cones, strands of hand strung popcorn, sprigs of Holly and hand cut strings of brown paper Ginger bread men were decorations. Mom made sure to keep those old, lean but happy memories alive.

Then, when Dad was 5, his mom died, he and his brothers recalled eating dried beans and thick sliced he bologna sandwiches on several holiday occasions.

He understood holidays can be painful, often unbearable, for those who have suffered death or loss during a festive season. Mom and dad, who would later found West Columbia’s Suburban Baptist Church, pooled their strengths, as young parents, to provide the best holidays possible.

When I was seven years old, we lived in a rental house on Park street, in Columbia. Mom applied her Martha Stewart, bake from scratch, goodies with her artistic talent making cardboard silhouette pilgrims and wise men, for our front door decorations which we kids blackened with charcoal.

Now we have assorted, colorful, holiday door covers available at any corner store that can be bought for a few bucks.

Then one Thanksgiving dad bartered with a neighbor, his ham radio for some pumpkins, gourds and hay for our yard decoration.

That same year mom decided we should decorate the tall old cedar tree growing in the far corner of our front yard. Since there was an electric outlet on the porch Dad had to lasso the tree to reach the plug of the long single strand of large colorful Christmas bulbs.

We watched, holding our breath for fear one wrong move and Dad could be launched over to the land of Winkin’, blinkin’ and Nod. You gotta be old to remember this.

Now I am thinking ahead to the holidays I love the way retail stores string tiny white lights inviting customers to come inside.

I’m thankful I have these Christmas memories to bring out the child in me.

As a family many memories were made in our home in West Columbia.

In case you’re a new reader of Hattie’s View, let me introduce myself.

I am Ellen Coffey, Hattie’s Granddaughter. I hope you enjoy reading my Grandma Hattie’s family legacy, now and then – Y’all.