Sharing Memories of Christmases Past — Gonna Take a Sentimental Journey (Part 1 of 3)

Memories of Christmases Past

Since the holidays are a wonderful time to rekindle those special memories of Christmases past, I thought it would be fun to reminisce.

[If you want to share your favorite Christmas memories, please e-mail me at “angie@mybalmofgilead.com” and I’ll be happy to post on my website and share with our readers]

Celebrating Christmas with my Maternal Great-Grandparents

When we’re in the throes of experiencing some of the happiest moments of our growing up years, God designed us such that we can reflect on those times through cherished memories as we grow older. It’s a beautiful way He provides us to allow us to reconnect with people and moments in our lives that were very special.

Some of my most cherished memories of Christmases past are from the Christmas Eve celebrations at the home of Papa (pronounced as “Pop-uh”) and “Grandma Daisey,” my maternal great-grandparents.

They lived within walking distance, across a grassy field, from my maternal grandmother, “Grandma Ella.”

Grandma Ella, her sister, Myrtle, who lived with Papa and Grandma Daisey, and son, Oscar, always referred to their Daddy as “Papa.” His given name was Millard Fillmore (after the President).

Papa and Grandma Daisey were married Christmas Day in 1902.

I remember the house where my great-grandparents lived looked small from the outside, but once you were inside, it seemed big, warm and inviting.  It was not unusual to have 20 to 30 people gather on Christmas Eve to celebrate.

My mother, Barbara, and her brother, David, spent much of their own growing-up years at their grandparents’ home.

Entering their house, I remember being greeted by the warmth radiating from the coal-stove, the sight of blinking, multi-colored lights from a large, heavily decorated Christmas tree, the loud ticking of a “Big Ben” clock, and the sound of voices and laughter coming from the kitchen towards the back of the house.

When my great-aunt Myrtle would have you sit down, she would say, “have a seat on the devonette.”  I remember as a child thinking a devonette looked an awful lot like we called a sofa or couch at home, but I still like the sound of “devonette.”

Myrtle could not hear well since she was stricken with a disease in early childhood that took most of her hearing. She had two large bells installed on the wall above the phone to amplify the sound.  If someone called during the holiday festivities, the sound of those bells would startle us into a few seconds of silence until the phone was answered.

Opening of presents would usually start with the youngest to the oldest. Myrtle’s gift to each one of us was always an individual box of chocolate-covered cherries. As kids, we always looked forward to receiving our box.

Spending the Night with my Maternal Great-Grandparents

When I would spend the night with Papa and Grandma Daisey, it was typically with one or two of my brothers, and I always slept with Grandma Daisey. There were two beds in the room, and Papa occupied the other bed. He had been blind for years, so Papa slept where he had easy access to the white enamel chamber pot in the room.

The bedspreads were all made of chenille, a couple had intricate floral designs, and some were solid pastel colors of cream and sage.  All beds had quilts hand-sewn by Grandma Daisey.  She was an accomplished seamstress. One of my most treasured possessions is a quilt given to me that she made by hand.

Breakfast with my Maternal Great-Grandparents

Breakfast at Grandma Daisey’s house was a “feast.” She would prepare home-made biscuits made from pure lard, fried eggs, crisp bacon, oatmeal, and home-made blackberry jelly.  In season, she fried apples collected from the apple trees on their land.

I remember Papa always split his biscuit and poured hot coffee over it before eating it.  He called it his “soakie.”

I still like my oatmeal the way Granda Daisey made it, except I no longer add as much sugar.  The consistency was always runny, never thick.

In the afternoon, Grandma Daisey would ask if we wanted a “dope” which we knew meant our own individual glass bottle of “coca-cola” that always had plenty of fizz.  She stored them in a dark closet, and the taste of those colas have never been equalled.

Grandma Daisey

Grandma Daisey was a kind-hearted, sweet and gentle woman. She was pencil thin — so thin and agile that when sitting in one of the white, wooden Adirondack chairs on the front porch, she could cross her legs and her upper foot would reach the floor.  She would tap her foot repeatedly while we talked.

Unlike her, I was “pudgey.”  When I would sit next to her as a child, she would pat my legs, smile, and say, “Law honey, your legs are as big as my body.”

I didn’t know exactly how to respond, but it was okay with me because I knew what she said was true. She would smile, and I would shrug my shoulders and giggle.

Grandma Daisey always wore a dress or skirt that reached mid-calf and white or gray-tone knit or cotton stockings with a pair of black, Victorian style, leather lace-up shoes. 

She had dark brown eyes, wore glasses, and arranged her long gray hair in a bun on the back of her head.  At night before she went to bed, she would unpin her hair, and comb it. It wouldn’t surprise me that her hair had never been cut. I remember her laughing and saying more came out on the comb than she had on her head.

Even with the many wrinkles she had from years of working outside in the sun, she was still beautiful.

If she were cooking, she always wore a long apron, typically with two large pockets in front.  When she worked in the garden, she also donned a large, floppy bonnet. Well into her 80s, she would go out and work in her garden.

And she used snuff. 

Snuff is a smokeless tobacco in the form of a fine powder that was designed to be inhaled or dipped. I remember that Myrtle didn’t like the fact that Grandma used snuff. So Grandma had a flat, rectangular snuff box that she attached to her wrist, concealed underneath her long sleeves. 

One day, I watched her take a tiny brush, lift some of the black powder from the box, and place it between her cheek and gum. Realizing I was watching her intently, she asked me if I wanted to try it.

I was too vain, and told her I was afraid my teeth would turn black.

Papa

Papa was short, probably only about 5’6″ or 5’7″ in height at most.  His most striking feature was his beautiful, steel-blue eyes. He used a cane as a guide to find his way around the house.

Papa enjoyed talking about church, politics, and family.  One of his favorite topics to discuss with kids was his dog Tippy.  I adored Tippy because he had such a sweet disposition and would always sit next to Papa when he went out on the porch.  

Unfortunately, years later Papa fell off the porch and broke a hip.  He subsequently acquired pneumonia and was entered into UT Hospital.

Myrtle brought Grandma Daisey the news that he had passed away. I was there when she was told.  I remember how her small frame shook as she sobbed.

Sentimental Journey

A few weeks later, Grandma Daisey was sitting in the kitchen at breakfast, and I was trying to convince her to eat.

“Grandma, if you don’t eat, you’ll die,” I said.

Without looking up at me, she said, “I want to die.”

I knew what she meant; her heart was broken.

A part of her had already died with the news that Papa had passed away. He died at the age of 96 on August 30, 1976. 

At the age of 92, Grandma Daisey breathed her last on September 26.

She and Papa had been married for 73 years.

In Loving Memory:

Millard Fillmore Weaver (Papa)

Born: April 8, 1880
Died: August 30, 1976

Daisey Dean Brazel Weaver

Born: May 17, 1884
Died: September 26, 1976