Memories of events from long ago fade like sepia pictures in an old family album. Details that were once sharp, clear, and distinct blur with the passing of time. Though the details of our family Christmas of 1956 have lost their crispness, the main event of that Christmas remains in my photographic memories to enjoy through the years.
It would be a different Christmas that year. My dad was traveling – part of his job that kept him away from home more than at home. My eight-year-old mind could not understand how he could miss Christmas with us even if it was for a business trip that put food on the table and bought us what we needed and wanted. It was always a treat when he was home to attend a special event with us. He had never missed a Christmas until this one.
Complaining and whining would not change the circumstances, so my mother created plan B. We would spend Christmas with my grandparents at their farm near Drummond, a small town that was only a small dot on the Oklahoma map. She loaded my sister and me with all our presents into our blue Buick.
It wasn’t the romantic and nostalgic “over the river and through the woods” trip of the seasonal song. Instead, we traveled on a two-lane highway and single lane dirt roads that were common in the 1950s.
We arrived at the farm on Christmas Eve as snow sprinkled from the gray sky, creating a Christmas card scene of peace on the prairie. Grandma’s door opened to the smells and sights of Christmas – cookies baking and a freshly cut cedar tree decorated with garland, tinsel, shiny balls, and handmade decorations. Grandma and Grandpa welcomed us with hugs and kisses, and we quickly busied ourselves with the final preparations for Christmas. My dad’s empty chair at Christmas Eve dinner reminded us of his absence on this special holiday.
My sister and I left milk and cookies for Santa and carrots for his reindeer. Grandma read the Christmas story to us and tucked us under layers of her handmade quilts. We giggled and whispered trying to guess what Santa would leave for us. When we finally fell asleep, not even the jingle bells of Santa’s sleigh disturbed us.
The aroma of Grandma’s strongly brewed coffee tickled our noses, waking us to the excitement of Christmas morning. My sister and I jumped out of bed and raced into the parlor, eagerly anticipating our gifts.
The tree lights twinkled among the branches and decorations. Colorful presents were stacked under the tree. It was a child's Christmas delight.
We stopped – our eyes could not believe what we saw. Sitting near the tree, smiling and casually drinking his coffee was our dad! We jumped on his lap, smothering him with hugs and kisses! Our presents under the tree were forgotten. This was Santa’s best gift!
We learned later that my dad had walked and hitchhiked to the small farmhouse in the middle of nowhere on that cold, snowy Christmas Eve night. I believe he caught a ride with Santa on his sleigh to spend Christmas with his family! What do you think?
