Blessed Memories

It was Christmas Eve 1965, and as was my family’s custom at the time, we were spending the holidays in Panama City, Florida with my grandparents on both sides. Both sets lived in Panama City at the time, even if they lived on opposite sides of the tracks. My Grandma and Grandpa Rowell lived down near the marina, two streets up from the bay, in a really big house. It had three stories, and the top story was used for storage and was absolutely great for plundering, as I recall. You could find just about anything up in that little bitty room. I still have dreams from time to time about going up those skinny stairs in search of adventure.

Well, this Christmas we were spending Christmas Eve with Grandma and Grandpa Rowell, and I will never forget the Christmas tree. It was about twenty feet tall to my young eyes, and it was all decked out with lights, you know those real big obnoxious ones that threatened to burn the house down that were used in the sixties. It had silver icicles, of which there were too many, and of course, it was festooned with gold garland all around; and it was white, yea white. From top to bottom it had been painted with that fake snow by my Grandma in the faint hope that a snow white Christmas tree made for a white Christmas even when the temperature was seventy-five degrees outside and the sun was hot as blazes. Nonetheless, I thought it was the most beautiful tree in the world at the time; and the picture of that tree still lives in my memory, and I suppose it always will.

On Christmas Eve, we younguns were all taken out for a drive to look at the lights of the city, to get a little ice cream from Tally Ho and to marvel at the wonderful way Christmas has of transforming little mill houses into palaces made of lights. When we returned to the house, much to our surprise Santa Claus had made a special trip to my Grandma's house, on Christmas Eve no less, just so that we little ones could have Christmas with two sets of Grandparents that year.

Even Santa understands the difficulties of young parents with two sets of jealous, amiable but jealous grandparents. It was wonderful. I got a wooden toy truck and a bunch of other stuff. That memory is one of my fondest.
 
The next morning we all woke up at Granny and Grandpa Tharpe’s house.
They lived on the other side of town on the corner of South 17th Street and Drake Avenue. They had lived there in a little frame house with gray asbestos siding for many years before I came on the scene and all the years afterwards. I just loved that old house.

The house and the grounds were just perfect for a little boy who constantly felt the need to get outside and have fun. There was a big fig tree out back and a couple of great climbing trees on one side; chinaberry, I think.  It had a first rate worm bed up against the back of the house made from an old cast iron footed tub. It even had a catawba tree out back, for raising catawba worms for fishing in the early summer. You just couldn’t beat it. It was a Granny’s house, if ever there was one.

On that Christmas morning, my brother, Mike, and I were up at dawn bugging Momma to get up out of bed and let us see what what Santa brought us in the night.  It took awhile, but after a bit of cajoling she got up, yawned and did her best to go as slow as possible even though she loved Christmas morning as much as we.
           
​I remember that Mike got a great big microscope, and I was a bit jealous of him. I truly can't remember exactly what I got from Mom and Dad. I suppose old jealousy fogs the memory a bit, but I do remember what my Granny and Grandpa gave me.  I opened up my present from them to find a Bible. It was one of those with the black cover that zipped up. It had a neat little cross that you held onto to pull the zipper. It was full of wonderful pictures. It had a great one of David laying out Goliath. I remember thinking that that boy was good with a sling, and I determined that I was going to make one just like it. I was seven years old at the time.

You know, I carried that particular Bible with me for the next ten years or so to Sunday school and church.  Now I can't say I read much of it, but I carried it nonetheless.

That Christmas of '65 is one of my favorite Christmases. It will live forever in my heart and mind. I feel sure that you all have similar places in your memory to run to when times get a bit tough. We all need them.

That little zip up Bible still sits in my study, seldom opened, but often remembered. It reminds me of a simpler time and gives me comfort when times get hard and perspective when the world begins to creep into my heart.
 
As the Christmas season dawns once again, take the time to extract yourself from the hustle and bustle of the season, the worries of the world and the daily stresses to remember what it is all about. Be blessed and be a blessing to those you love. Make memories that will last. Tell them the story and give them a gift that will remain forever in their hearts.
 
Merry Christmas
 
Love,
Pastor Tony
            

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