Short Stories

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Christmas at Caesar, Circa 1941

Japan had just bombed Pearl Harbor and the folks around Caesar were concerned as was the rest of the nation. Some of the young men of the community had volunteered for the military and had already gone to Ft. Jackson, South Carolina for basic training. The world was changing.

Folks at Caesar didn't know much about what was going on in the rest of the world. No one had a radio to listen to the news, that is, except my uncle Chalmers who had a radio that was powered by two big cylindrical batteries. This radio was the only contact we had with the outside world, television not having come to our community at that time. Up until Pearl Harbor his radio was used exclusively for listening to the Grand Ole Opry on clear-channel WSM out of Nashville, TN. The population of Caesar would religiously gather around uncle Chalmer's porch on Saturday night and watch him string the wire-antenna up in the oak tree in his front yard, hook the batteries to the radio and patiently wait for our weekly entertainment. It was worth the wait to hear ole Minnie Pearl say "Howdieeee, I'm just so proud to be here".

Although the rest of the community was concerned about the upcoming war in Europe, I had my own problem. I turned 6 years old in March and had successfully failed the Primer at Caesar Grammar School. For those of you who do not know, Primer is equal to Kindergarten in our day and age. No one fails Kindergarten. Things didn't look too good for me for Christmas and I was trying to rectify myself with my parents who may have been considering sending me to a Military School some place in Texas. I think it may have been an idle threat but I didn't want to take any chances one reason being I didn't even know where Texas was located.

I knew that in order to have a chance of getting something for Christmas I had to be extra good-leave the cat and chickens alone, don't pester the cows, say "yes mama and no mama" to my mom and say sir to my dad, wash my face and hands occasionally, and above all, go to bed when told.

Christmas eve at our house was the best time of year. It was on Christmas Eve that we cut our Christmas tree and did the decoration. Our custom was to go to the woods after lunch on Christmas Eve and find the best looking cedar, holly, or pine tree that we could find. It didn't matter if it was 5 degrees, snow waist deep, or sleeting and raining like crazy-we went to the woods and cut a tree, my mother leading the way with an ax in her hand.


This particular year we cut a pine tree that was about 10-feet tall. It was the most beautiful Christmas tree that I had ever laid my 6-year eyes on. Perfectly shaped, filled out in all the right places and I knew for sure that Santa Claus would be pleased with it. After dragging it home my dad nailed two-2 foot 2 by 4's to the butt end so we could stand the tree upright in our living room. I couldn't wait to see this tree standing there. Then it happened-when we stood the tree upright we discovered that it was about 1 foot too tall. No problem my dad said, "lets lay it down and I will cut about a foot off". We lay the tree down and he promptly took out his Barlow pocketknife and cut about a foot from the top. That is when I discovered that my Mom had a bad temper. After explaining in no uncertain terms to my dad that he had ruined the tree we tromped back out into the woods, mama with the ax in her hand leading the way looking for another tree. I think my dad was happy to see her leave the house with the ax in her hand.

After finally finding a suitable tree that wasn't too tall we got it decorated with a few varied colored light bulbs, icicles, popcorn, and any other thing that came to mind. Mama then hung some of those big paper Christmas bells at different places in our living room. We were prepared now for Santa to come.

As was the custom at our house all my siblings and their offspring gathered there on Christmas Eve and spent the night with us. My bed was on a quilt spread next to the backside of the fireplace in my mother's room. Besides being warm from the fire in the fireplace I could tell when Santa came down the Chimney. I never actually heard him come down but I did see the scratch marks inside the Chimney made by his shoes and fingers. That was proof enough for a 6 year old that Santa was real.

My mother was always the first to arise on Christmas morning. This year was no exception. While she was busy making the fire in the fireplace the rest of the family slowly began to rise and come into the living room. To the amazement of our young eyes, presents were piled high under the Christmas tree. Santa had really come to our house, regardless of the warning received from my mother that he wouldn't come unless we were extra good.

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