Memories of Christmas

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!