I'm not sure how an excess of cookies and candies became associated with Christmas unless it's the fact that mothers and grandmothers everywhere decided to make special treats for this special occasion and the tradition just grew.
Although there were very few presents under our tree on Christmas morning, certain treats were never missing. My grandma made chocolate covered cherries well in advance because they had to sit for a while in order for the centers to liquefy. My dad made peanut butter fudge and sea foam (divinity). We could hardly wait until we were allowed to sample these goodies we had only once a year.
Grandma's fruit salad was another treat served only on Christmas day. She started with a can of Delmonte fruit salad from Buxton's store and added canned peaches and pears from our cellar. Then came a small can of pineapple chunks, a small jar of maraschino cherries, and fresh oranges - the only time of year we had fresh oranges. Before we had electricity, our fruit salad was chilled in the smoke house overnight and brought in at the last minute. Sliced bananas were added just before serving. It was wonderful.
Great-Uncle Howard arrived on Christmas mornings carrying a bag of black walnuts he had gathered. After sitting in the kitchen patiently cracking the shells and digging out the nuts, he made a black walnut cake – his gift to our family. Now that I think of it, the only ingredient he provided was the black walnuts. If anyone noticed it at the time, no one mentioned it. Uncle Howard lived alone on a houseboat tied up on 13 Mile Creek in Leon. His gift was a gift from the heart and it was very much appreciated.
Above you see a photograph taken the year I was married. There are my Grandma, my Mom, and my two youngest brothers, H.A. and Johnny. I am proudly wearing the necklace Carl gave me. My little brother, Johnny, is wearing the cowboy outfit we gave him and H.A. has a new shirt. Carl took the picture with his new Argus 33mm camera – the first camera he'd ever owned.
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all my friends and family. I wish you the kinds of memories that help make this time of year so very special.
Although there were very few presents under our tree on Christmas morning, certain treats were never missing. My grandma made chocolate covered cherries well in advance because they had to sit for a while in order for the centers to liquefy. My dad made peanut butter fudge and sea foam (divinity). We could hardly wait until we were allowed to sample these goodies we had only once a year.
Grandma's fruit salad was another treat served only on Christmas day. She started with a can of Delmonte fruit salad from Buxton's store and added canned peaches and pears from our cellar. Then came a small can of pineapple chunks, a small jar of maraschino cherries, and fresh oranges - the only time of year we had fresh oranges. Before we had electricity, our fruit salad was chilled in the smoke house overnight and brought in at the last minute. Sliced bananas were added just before serving. It was wonderful.
Great-Uncle Howard arrived on Christmas mornings carrying a bag of black walnuts he had gathered. After sitting in the kitchen patiently cracking the shells and digging out the nuts, he made a black walnut cake – his gift to our family. Now that I think of it, the only ingredient he provided was the black walnuts. If anyone noticed it at the time, no one mentioned it. Uncle Howard lived alone on a houseboat tied up on 13 Mile Creek in Leon. His gift was a gift from the heart and it was very much appreciated.
Above you see a photograph taken the year I was married. There are my Grandma, my Mom, and my two youngest brothers, H.A. and Johnny. I am proudly wearing the necklace Carl gave me. My little brother, Johnny, is wearing the cowboy outfit we gave him and H.A. has a new shirt. Carl took the picture with his new Argus 33mm camera – the first camera he'd ever owned.
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all my friends and family. I wish you the kinds of memories that help make this time of year so very special.
