Born on Christmas Day
Photo caption: The old farmhouse where the author was born on Christmas Day.
In 1946, the world was beginning to recover from the aftermath of World War II. Christmas of that year took on a new meaning for families in America. That year marked a return to normalcy, and holiday traditions became a beacon of hope and joy.
Families embraced the warmth of togetherness. Christmas trees adorned homes as symbols of not only the birth of Jesus and the real reason we celebrate this beloved holiday, but also as a symbol of renewal and celebration after the hardships of the war.
My dad returned from the war in March 1946. He and Mom were living with Grandpa and Grandma on their farm nestled among the forested hills of the Missouri Ozarks.
The old farmhouse had no electricity, no running water. Water came from a spring on the hill. The bathroom was down a path behind the house. A pot-bellied wood-burning stove provided heat. Grandma cooked on a wood stove. At night, Grandma read books or the Bible by the light of kerosene lanterns. Grandpa listened to a big transistor radio that stood in a corner near his rocking chair.
For Christmas in 1946, Grandma had Grandpa cut down a small cedar tree. He nailed it to some boards so it would stand in the corner of the living room. She decorated it with small ornaments Grandpa had carved over the years and wrapped small grapevines around it. There were no gift-wrapped presents to put under the tree.
To them, Christmas Day was not about giving and receiving presents. It was the most important day of the year to them. It was the day to celebrate the birth of Jesus. There was no church nearby to attend. Grandma would always read the Christmas story from the Bible and cook a special meal on that day.
Christmas Day is the least likely day of the year for someone to be born, but that day in 1946 changed for everyone when my mother gave birth to me on the couch near the wood stove, assisted by Grandma. There was no hospital, no doctor, no nurse. Grandma used to tell people I was a Christmas present delivered unwrapped.
Their food was grown or raised on the farm. So even though it was Christmas, Grandpa still had to milk the cow and do chores. Grandma butchered a chicken and fried it up for the Christmas meal. My dad had a job with the railroad and had to work that day. My mother spent all day recovering from giving birth to me. My birth did not stop Grandma from doing everything she had always done on Christmas.
I am thankful I grew up on that farm. There was no television, no computer, no smartphone to pollute my mind and take away from my time being outdoors. Mornings, I would do my chores of milking the old cow by hand, bringing water down to the house in a bucket, gathering eggs, feeding the pigs, bringing in firewood and anything else they needed me to do.
When I finished, I roamed the fields and forests around me. In the spring, I would find wild mushrooms, wild fruit, wild berries, nuts and anything else that was edible and bring them back to Grandma.
I learned to catch chickens and chop their heads off. Grandma would dip them in a bucket of hot water to loosen their feathers. She and I would then pluck all their feathers. To this day, I can still smell the awful aroma of wet chicken feathers.
Afterwards, she would fry it up for supper. It tasted much better than today’s chicken that you buy at the grocery store, filled with who knows what. The pigs we butchered back then also tasted a whole lot better than the meat we eat today.
When I was older, Grandpa gave me his old shotgun and taught me how to use it safely. He was too busy to go with me. The farm dogs went off hunting squirrels and rabbits with me. Grandma would smile and pat my head when I brought them home. Then, she would make a great meal out of them. If I brought home more than we could eat right away, Grandpa would smoke and dry the meat and store it in a cool place for later.
He also hammered out a frog gig out of scrap metal. Then, he cut and shaped a straight tree limb and attached it to the end. I would go out to the farm ponds or a local creek to gig frogs. We enjoyed many meals of fried frog legs.
I got started fishing with an old cane pole, a length of line and a hook tied to the end of it. I would dig worms or catch grasshoppers for bait. At the ponds or creek, I would catch perch or bass and bring them home for another treat for the family. Grandpa saved his money and bought me a real fishing rod from the Sears and Roebuck mail order catalog.
It was hard but I wouldn’t trade my early years on that farm for anything. It instilled in me a passion for the outdoors that is deep in my soul today. As an adult, I passed that passion on to our sons and grandkids.
Today, more people need God, and they need to learn to enjoy all the outdoors has to offer. They do not have to hunt and fish. There are many other ways to escape into the great outdoors and get away from all the technology.
Later in my adult life, God blessed me with the ability to write stories about the outdoors. I think Grandpa and Grandma would have enjoyed reading them. I will continue to write stories until God calls me home.
God also blessed me with the ability to do radio shows about the outdoors. They were on radio stations across America and were heard all over the world on the American Forces Radio Network for many years. I think my dad would have liked that.
I tell anyone I can that I believe being born and growing up on that farm planted the seed from which my love of the outdoors grew. God gave me the gift to do all I have done. I want Him to get the glory, not me. I am just an instrument He has used and is using to help others find Him through the great outdoors he created for all of us to enjoy.
If you need Christmas gift ideas this year, think about giving the gift of the outdoors in some way. The best way to do that is to take them outdoors to discover all its wonders. It will change their lives for the better.
During this Christmas season, I hope more people come to realize what the real reason for the season is. When my life on earth is through, I know where I am going. Do you?
In this world we live in today, there are times that I wish I could go back to that old farm where I was born on Christmas Day.
SOMETHING TO THINK ABOUT
“Want to keep Christ in Christmas? Feed the hungry, clothe the naked, forgive the guilty, welcome the unwanted, care for the ill, love your enemies, and do unto others as you would have them do unto you.”
- Steve Maraboli
