I am sure we all have memories of past Christmases that we
recall around this time. My family didn’t have a lot of money, but as a small
child I never knew that. There was always a tree with gifts, and a special
meal, of course.
I have memories of the beautiful packages, most of which
might have been wrapped with re-used paper from last year. Because my parents
endured the Great Depression, there was no ripping paper off the boxes with
abandon, you carefully pulled the tape loose and slid the box out, so the paper
might be re-used next year. The bows were all gathered and put in a box, only
to reappear the next season. My dad (born in 1913) told stories of his
childhood when Christmas shopping happened on Christmas Eve, as well as
purchasing the tree and putting it in the house. They popped popcorn and strung
it with cranberries to place on the tree. Mama Miller would be in the kitchen
cooking and baking for the big day. They usually got one gift, and it was most
likely something practical—like socks or handkerchiefs. This was also one of
the few times of the year they would get fresh fruit and nuts in their Christmas stocking, a tradition passed down
to us that my brother Clifton recalls as being a rare treat for us as well, especially
oranges. Any kind of fresh fruit was not common in our home, as it was still
considered an expensive special treat. I (or should I say Santa) passed the
tradition on to my girls by placing fruit in their Christmas stockings, even
with the year-round availability of fresh oranges and apples.
Many years my Mother would go to Amarillo just a few days
before Christmas to shop for us, and then you’d hear all kinds of noises
through the night as she wrapped them. One year I heard lots of racket but
stayed in my bed because they told me Santa wouldn’t come if I got up. The next
morning when we got up, there sat a slot car set for my brother Ken! Clifton, Jim, and Daddy had apparently put it together and “tested” it the night
before, hence the noise. I remember another Christmas very clearly; I asked
Santa for a Barbie Doll. Sure enough, Christmas morning there was Barbie! I was over the moon.The next year I woke to
Barbie clothes…hand made by my mother. There was a corduroy coat with a fur
collar, a sheer nightgown and robe with tiny lace, a ballerina costume with rows
of silver rick rack on the tutu, and-wait for it- a wedding gown. She had gathered scraps of fabric from friends and neighbors- the satin and lace were from the
neighbor’s wedding dress. When I think about the hours of tedious stitching it took for her
to take those scraps and not only sew the
clothes, but add tiny buttons, snaps, lace, and beads—even though they were created
out of necessity, they hold a special place in my heart.
We celebrated Christmas with my maternal grandparents and families in Dalhart on New Year’s Day. The smell of fresh pine mixed with pipe tobacco greeted you when you entered. As a child I was mesmerized every year by the real 10 ft Christmas tree complete with strands of the large 3” colored lights, tinsel, and BUBBLE LIGHTS! I loved the bubble lights! At home our small tree usually had the strings of tinsel, but it just had the regular sized bulbs. When I got old enough to toss the strands of tinsel on the tree, I felt very grown up!
An odd thing happened one year. I walked into the living
room at Grandmother and Granddaddy Clifton’s house to find something VERY
unexpected. There sat this shiny silver thing that looked like Sputnik had
dropped it in their living room from space! It was only about 5’ tall, and they
had it on a table so it didn’t look so strange in that high-ceiling room. It
had a color wheel that rotated changing the colors. It had all blue glass
bulbs. AND NO BUBBLE LIGHTS. I was excited and disappointed at the same time! I
look back now and think how out of character it was for them to have that in
their old farmhouse-style home that featured 10-foot-high ceilings, wood floors
with linoleum rugs, and always smelled vaguely like moth balls.
Something very special to me is that my dad (Lloyd Miller) built
the lighted star that stands on top of the elevator in Hartley. It is usually lit from Thanksgiving through New Year's Day. It
was the early 60’s, and Farmer’s Supply commissioned him to build it. With the
help of his assistant, Cyril Hedrick, and my brother Jim, they welded and
formed the star. Jim has said it was the first time he had ever seen brand
spanking new 16’ sections of angle iron steel- he’d only ever had the used stuff to use. He describes how Dad laid the steel out on the shop floor, then
drew the template around it with white chalk on the floor. Jim helped him weld
it and cut the holes for the lights. Daddy was very proud of that star—when lit you can see it for miles around! I love that
star, it reminds me of my childhood growing up, of being able to look
out my window and see it and remember the look of pride that Daddy would get
when he spoke about building it. Later he built one for Coon Memorial Hospital in Dalhart, but
it was removed during the building’s renovation years later. Daddy was
born in Hartley and lived most of his 88 years there. That star is part of his
legacy that my family shares with that community every season, and I hope it
stays up there for many more years—so when you see the star, think of my dad!
Wishing you and yours a very Merry Christmas!
Peace, friends!
