Christmas When I Was 7 Years Old- Dec 25, 1941
Time to Dredge Up Really Old Christmas Memories
Boy, do I have a bank of precious memories about when our children were experiencing their first Christmas! It was awesome!
But the joy goes back even further, so I’m moved to relate how I felt about Christmas when I was 7 years old.
Going to See Santa Claus on Christmas Eve
It was the day before Christmas, and we had just gotten over 2 feet of snow-with a west wind having fun making it into 5 foot drifts.
My dad was in a quandary. We all sensed it, and we all knew why.
Every year, we went to a Christmas Eve program at Prairie View School, our little one room school about a mile and a half from our house. The problem this year was, how could we get there, with all that snow?
If worse came to worse, we could hitch up our work horses to the storm buggy, and they would get us there.
But the storm buggy had sort of cellophane windows, plenty of cracks, and a rough ride– not a very appealing mode of transportation.
My dad finally chose the other alternative, and put chains on the tires of our 1936 Plymouth automobile. We slid around a lot, but we made it.
I couldn’t have been happier. Santa was there, and he gave me an orange and a candy cane.
We didn’t have many oranges or candy canes during the year at our house, so this made Christmas special.
I thought Santa looked and smelled a lot like our neighbor, Guy Mawhiney, but I didn’t give that much more thought.
All the neighbors there sang some Christmas Carols, and a little romantic Christmas skit was put on by the 4th,5th, and 6th graders.
Our family was in good spirits, singing as many verses of “Jingle Bells” as we could remember, while my dad tried to keep the car on the road as he caromed through the drifts on the way home.
Greeting Christmas Day at Home
Christmas day came, and I eagerly got out of my warm feather bed into the cold room, and joined the rest of the family-headed for the living room.
My dad had stoked up the big coal heating stove in the center of the room, and it was burning vigorously, bringing heat to that important part of the house, where the 4 foot Christmas tree sat on the sewing machine.
Sure enough, there was my stocking, with another orange, and some more candy in it. I also found some new socks and underwear, a ball bearing out of our combine, and a bow and arrow my dad had carved out of wood for me.
We all opened our presents, and were excited and happy that somehow Santa Claus had found our humble home-snow drifts and all.
Not Just Any Christmas Day
But this wasn’t just any Christmas day. Eighteen days before, the Japanese had attacked our soldiers at Pearl Harbor, and our nation was at war.
I knew that my father and mother were worried-even scared, and I was scared to.
My parents had their ear glued to our old battery radio, and it seemed that President Roosevelt was doing a lot of talking to the American people.
I heard it then, and saw it in print many years later. One of the things he did was to warn adults that they must turn to “the stern tasks and formidable years that lie before us,” so the children will not be “denied their right to live in a free and decent world.”
And perhaps he repeated his inaugural statement “The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.”
A Lesson in How to Not Fear Fear
Notwithstanding the apprehension of the day, my mother, Ruby Edith Gray Odaffer- even though Christmas was not her favorite holiday- was not about to let us kids get caught up in the fear and concern that gripped the people in the United States. Not on Christmas Day. Not on her watch.
She let it be known that it would be a special day by giving a hint that she would be making cream puffs and caramel popcorn balls to help aid in the festivities.
The old cook stove in the kitchen, with cobs and coal that I had helped bring in, was already boiling water, and generally giving the impression that it was ready to cook anything in sight.
It was a bright and sunny day, and our farm was a virtual winter wonderland. We had lots of snow, and the breaths of all the farm animals seemed to sort of steam up the barnyard.
My dad (Ray Odaffer) had finished milking the cows, as he always faithfully did, and had brought buckets of fresh milk to the house.
My mother ran it through the old DeLaval cream separator, and lo and behold, the milk came out one spout and the cream came out the other.
That cream would form the staple for those cream puffs we were so excited about.
My job, even on Christmas day, was to take a bucket with a long nipple at the bottom, filled partway with milk and supplement to feed one of the young calves that had been born just a few days earlier.
So, after savoring my Christmas gifts for a while, I put on all my heavy clothes, my hat with ear tabs, and my gum boots, and trudged through the snow with that bucket.
After feeding the calf and some other chores, I didn’t go back to the house just yet.
It was such an adventure when it snowed in the wintertime!
I went looking for, finding, and following the rabbit tracks-hoping to see a Christmas bunny.
It wasn’t hard to do, and pretty soon, after kicking a snowy woodpile, not one, but two chilly bunnies jumped out and scampered across the garden.
As the day progressed, I played a with my sisters Jane and Wanda, ate a wonderful Christmas dinner, with meat from our recent butchering of a steer (the ring of fat around it and all), noodles, and all the trimmings.
And, of course, the afternoon was filled with cream puffs,popcorn balls, and a rousing round of rummy!
In the evening we listened to that battery radio, because, after all, it was Wednesday evening, and we didn’t want to miss Gabriel Heater, Jack Benny, and Lum and Abner.
What’s the Message Here?
As I look back on my 7 year old Christmas, I find it amazing.
We were poor as church mice, living on a farm with no electricity, no bathrooms, no telephone, no bathtub, and no running water.
We didn’t have enough money to buy Christmas gifts, so mostly our gifts were homemade, and were few and far between.
And we were embarking on the worst war this nation has ever experienced,
Worry and concern could certainly have permeated that day. But it didn’t.
So, with all the possibilities for gloom, I remember being really happy and very content with that day. It was a wonderful Christmas, and, in a sense, it seemed like a wonderful life.
I didn’t know “how bad off I(we) were” because there was a spirit of love, caring, and camaraderie in our home that seemed to override what we lacked in material goods, modern conveniences, and our own personal safety.
There was an undercurrent of positiveness that simply took precedence over everything else.
Perhaps that is what Christmas is all about.
Kristy Glynn
Dad sent Kathy and me the link to your wonderful post with the message
“Lots like our Christmas that year. We were living on the 5 acres in one house and my grandmother lived next door. Very simple life but we thought it was great.”
Thank you for writing this story of your life and sharing some of my dad’s also.
I’ve enjoyed reading your site.
Kristy