Christmas in 1940 was perhaps my most memorable. It was simple, almost austere, but maybe memorable because of that circumstance. There were no carolers, but there never were carolers in a world of rather widely separated country homes and residents who had no money for treats. There were no Christmas concerts by church choirs in congregations, where choir sections were filled just for that service mostly by ladies who simply sang what their leader chose and in churches that had services two times, even one time, a month. For most of that day 79 years ago, the only people present were my parents and me.

It had been an eventful year. Early on, my father was struck down by acute appendicitis. Skillful surgery and recently discovered antibiotics saved his life, but left him a shadow of the tough and vigorous man that he had been. He fell far behind in preparing and planting his rather large farm. Neighbors gathered one day to help, but he and his young tenant farmer never got control of the challenge on a farm that was infested with Johnson grass, which proliferated underground, and by tiny seeds that spread in the wind. His best mule died and was replaced by Dan, a gentle horse that performed well but was too large to work in a two-team pair with the remaining mule.

At some point, I had pneumonia, which also was beaten by antibiotics. I helped my parents in the task of side-dressing corn with nitrate of soda. I had my sixth birthday and entered first grade at Marietta, a two-room, seven-grade country school, where I learned much during two years in a room with one teacher serving three grades.

However, I had no understanding of the family’s financial problems. In spite of the fact that the world was still struggling with aspects of the Great Depression -- as it did until World War II brought on unprecedented employment -- my father succeeded financially in his early years on his own. He bought a farm, then sold it and bought a larger one on which he built the largest tobacco-curing barn in the area. He bought a two-ton flatbed work truck, but his health disaster ended his confidence in his ability to always succeed by endless hard work. He owed money on the farm mortgage, on Dan and on the truck.

I first saw evidence of the problem when the truck was replaced by a thoroughly used Chevrolet car. Then men came in a big truck, loaded up Dan and drove away with me running behind crying, “Come back with my Dan! Come back with my Dan!” 

I did not know that the farm was going, too. Daddy worked out an arrangement with his older brother, Ira, to assume the loan on the farm and pay him some money at a later date. At the end of the year, we exchanged houses with Uncle Ira and family, who lived down the road on a sure-rent farm owned by an absentee landlord.

Understandably, my parents were not upbeat at Christmas. My father’s family had no tradition of gift-giving. Some fruit for the children and family get-togethers were the norm. However, Mother convinced him to go out and cut a Christmas tree, which she decorated with her collection of red and green ropes and paper bells. When she asked me what I wanted for Christmas, my ready answer was “new shoes.” The shoes that I was wearing to school were coming apart at seams and soles.

When I awakened Christmas morning, there was one present under the tree. It was for me ... a pair of new shoes. There was nothing for Momma, nothing for Daddy. Just one present for me and I was happy with it.

Later in the day, Uncle Bill, Daddy’s younger brother, came to visit. I suspect that my parents had been missed at the usual gathering at Grandmother Branch’s house. They certainly did not feel like celebrating. Uncle Ray and Aunt Catherine had come from Savannah for the family gathering and she sent a present by Uncle Bill. It was a windup, spring-driven train that ran on an oval track of many interconnecting pieces. It was a marvel! True, the track sections often separated on the uneven floor of the old house, leading to frustrating train wrecks. But this wholly unexpected marvel of a gift transformed a good Christmas into an unforgettable one.