Posted on 01/05/2006 9:30:01 AM PST by najida
Sound like he went out happy.
Lived on his own terms, died on them too.
Yep,
Thanks sugar.
That movie, "The Christmas Story", is one of my favorites. You are right too, I always think of home when the Bumpas's dogs steal the turkey. As a matter of fact, each Christmas Eve, my wife and daughters all go to a Chinese retaurant for our dinner. We have done that for over 30 yeas now, and it has become a family tradition. Glad you liked my story.
He lived a very long, eventful life. What a character he was. Could play the hell out of that home made fiddle. I loved it when I was a kid.
That is a great story.
Sounds like he was one heck of a grandpa.
Thanks for the ping Fawnn.
A delightful read.
He lived in the Missouri country, in an old white farm house. He had a bunch of buddies who had also made a bunch of instruments, and they would come over and play on the porch together. It was really cool.
Thanks, I'm glad you liked it.
Sounds like a lot of memories were made.
Merry Christmas najida!
Oh My.....that story made me both laugh & cry! Thanks so much for sharing...a family classic.
PINGGGGGGGGG to #1 and #33!!!!
naj.....I'm at work, laughing my head off!!!
I got a little misty-eyed when I wrote it....brought back a lot of great memories about my family and friends.
WHAT a wonderful story!!!
You've been SO blessed...and I think you know it!
Christmas 1970 will stay in my family's heart as one of the best, if not the greatest Christmas we have ever had. My large family, and all of my nieces, nephews, family friends, and neighbors were to have Christmas dinner with my Mother and Dad.
There were going to be 48 people for this dinner, and Mother was going crazy making sure everything was just perfect. We had set the main table three different times to satisfy Mom's desires, and we had set up numerous card tables, old tables, t.v. trays, all over the living room, the study, and the kitchen.
My sisters and sisters-in-law had been working in the kitchen like dogs, making casseroles, breads, cakes, and pies. My Mother baked three turkeys, two big hams, and a huge roast beef for the dinner, and as always, she did it the day before because she liked to just "warm things up" in time for the big dinner on Christmas Day.
She had three ovens in her kitchen, and each item had its' very own time to cook properly so when it came out it was hot, and ready for the table. The potatoes were all peeled, the sweet potato pies were ready, the mincemeat pies, pecan pies, and casseroles were ready to cook Christmas Day.
When we tried to put all the prepared foods into the refrigerators, there wasn't enough room to everything to fit, so Mom told me to take the turkeys, hams, and beef to the garage in covered containers, and to put them on top of the work table there.
I did as she asked, and covered everything with a blanket. It was really cold that Christmas Eve, and Mom wasn't worried about the food spoiling, nor was anyone else. Christmas morning came, and we all celebrated and opened our gifts, ate a huge breakfast, got dressed, then began preparing the big dinner.
We were to eat at two o'clock that afternoon, and at 12:30 Mom and I went to the garage to bring in the cooked meats to warm up, carve and serve...we both noticed at the same time the door to the garage had been opened. As we approached the door, 15 wild dogs came running out, barking, growling, and throwing our meat around! We looked inside, and the beef was gone, the turkeys were gone, and the hams were no where to be found ! Mama had a hissy-fit, yelled louder than I had ever heard her yell,and Pop came running out to see what the problem was, as did other family members.
We all knew then the dogs were really happy, but we weren't real pleased with the situation. Mama cried, which made all of us feel terrible as we had never seen her cry, and Dad hugged her and told her not to worry. "If anything" he said as he hugged her, "it's cold and the dogs are happy, and I'm happy because you're my wife and it's Christmas."
(my Dad was a smooth talker!) Mama smiled and we all went back inside. About that time the friends and neighbors were arriving for the feast, and then Dad got my brothers and me to start a fire in the fireplace.
We then took wire coat hangers and "opened" them out so that each of us could cook our own "Christmas Tube Steaks!". The grandchildren loved it more than anything, getting to cook their own hotdogs with all the fancy foods that had been prepared. The adults loved it as most of us hadn't cooked a hot dog over a fire in many years, and Dad liked it because it saved the day, and gave everyone something to think about.
As my Christmases have come and gone, I still think of that cold winter day in 170, when I learned that it isn't what's on your plate that makes a meal great, it's what is in each person's heart you are sharing that meal with. That was my Dad's last Christmas, and Mama died the following year of a broken heart.
I think of them often, and smile when I think of the " Christmas tube steaks." As far as the dogs go, I captured one of them a few weeks later, and his "granddaughter" is laying at my feet when I type this. Her favorite treat happens to be a piece of a hot dog!
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