Some people come and go in our lives, some stay forever.
You know I can’t go wordless!
I meant to post this around Christmas time, but things got hectic and I just didn’t. But here it is now, our 2013 Christmas card – you know the cliche – better late than never.
I mailed out almost 100 christmas cards, and there were still several people I wanted to send one to, but I didn’t order any more as we mailed them out late anyway. So, if you didn’t get one – please forgive and save this one!
As I was decorating the house the other day for the Christmas holidays, for some reason I started thinking about what my ancestors would have been doing at Christmas time during the civil war.
I’m sure they didn’t string fancy garlands or lights and probably not every one put up a Christmas tree as the European custom of having a tree was just becoming popular. If they did decorate a tree, I’m sure the decorations would have been handmade usually of stringed sugared fruits, ribbons, popcorn, pine cones, colored paper, silver foil and spun glass ornaments.
As I looked around guiltily at all of my decorations, I wondered did they decorate their houses? Did they sit with their families around a fire and sing songs? Did they trade gifts and visit neighbors?
Not having any way to know what my ancestors did, I started thinking about my husband’s ancestors. Then I remembered that we had a copy of my (now ex) husband’s great-grandfather, A.J. Smith’s diary that he wrote during the civil war. My (now ex) father-in-law, Al Reynolds has the original diary in his possession.
This is A.J. at about the time he enlisted as a Pvt. in Co. K, 20th Regiment Arkansas Infantry, CSA on March 6, 1862 in Lafayette Co., Arkansas.
So, I pulled the diary up and looked for dates around Christmas time and this is what he wrote (the year is 1863 from farther up in the diary):
“Dec 24th Ark troops and some others to the amount of 500 are parolled for exchange and put on the steamer New York and go to the Fortress Monroe and ly over till the evening of the 25th. On the night of the 25th ly in the mouth of James River. On the morning of the 26th sail to City Point and wait for the Confederate Boat from Richmond till the morning of the 28th.”
We know from his diary and muster rolls that he was taken prisoner at Big Black on May 16, 1863 and imprisoned at Fort Delaware and then later at Point Lookout, where the parole he mentioned above took place.
I went back into the living room at this point and sat and looked at my tree. A.J. was not sitting in a warm house around a tree with his family during the Christmas of 1863. However, I imagine being paroled from prison after seven months, was a pretty good Christmas gift. I imagine he was sitting on that steamer on Christmas eve, glad to be on his way to freedom and thinking very much of his family at home, but was he even thinking about it being Christmas as he didn’t mention that in the diary?
I found a picture of the New York steamer, which you can view here. I can’t imagine being stuffed in there with 499 other parolees. I wonder what he was fed? I’m sure it wasn’t anything like the meal we will eat on Christmas eve. In fact, he was probably lucky if he got anything at all.
In doing a bit of research, I came across this entry, written in a diary on Christmas day 1863, by Sergeant John L. Hoster of Co. A., 148th NY, who was serving an extended period of non-combat duty in the Fort Norfolk, Virginia area. He wrote:
“Cool but pleasant. Corpl. Spaid, Dick Bachman, the orderly and I had a splendid Christmas dinner today, consisting of roast goose, mashed potatoes, good gravy, bread and butter. The goose was bought in market yesterday by F. Spaid for $1.25, stuffed with crackers and oysters and roasted by Mrs. Duncan. We had it served up on a fine large platter, borrowed, bought or stolen for the occasion. Had a fine supper on the remains. Flag of truce ship, New York, came here today and took away a few prisoners to City Point. A schooner also came today with several new pontoons which were unloaded at the dock.”
Wait, what?
This dude is chomping down on a goose, from a platter probably stolen from some southern lady, while poor A.J. was getting taken away to City Point. Sgt. Hoster’s good fortune didn’t last long as it was only a matter of time before his own goose was cooked and the next Christmas he was sitting in a Confederate prison eating sweet potato soup and meal dumplings.
I am happy to report though that Sgt. Hoster did eventually return home to his family, as did A.J.
I don’t know what any of my ancestors were up to during the civil war at Christmas time. Of the eight great-grandfathers that I had during that time period, four of them fought during the war between the states. One was shot in his head and survived, but suffered greatly for the rest of his life.
So, this Christmas I will remember what my ancestors, and my husband’s ancestors sacrificed so that we could end up here together, living a life of luxury compared to what A.J. was going through during 1863. I’m thankful, and I don’t take it for granted and I know my husband doesn’t either.
My son, Pvt. Cole is currently at Ft. Sill in Oklahoma completing his AIT training. We get the privilege of Skyping. If you don’t know what that is, it’s where you both log on to Skype either on a phone or computer and we can chat while a webcam sends video, to the person on the other end. This is what my screen looks like when we are talking.
I can only imagine that A.J.’s mother would have wished for a letter or some word that A.J. was still alive and was being released and would be on his way home soon. He had already been sent home once deathly ill to recover at his parents house, only to then be later captured.
His father, Robert Burnett Smith was off fighting in an Alabama regiment and so I imagine his mother, Sarah Yates Smith lived in constant fear for her husband and son. She also had, two other sons fighting; John Calvin Smith and Joel Benjamin Smith. She wasn’t lucky like I am to be able to sit here at my computer and see a smiling face from hundreds of miles away, with just a few clicks on a phone.
Have you thought about what your ancestors were doing during Christmas way back when, and how drastically different it is from what we do now at Christmas time?
I’m thinking maybe we should cook a goose in honor of A.J. this Christmas and share that story with the kids! 🙂
We are having a white Christmas and us Southern girls just aren’t used to this.
I mean, I just wore flip-flops yesterday!
I opened up the garage and the snow blew in and blew my dress up.
Ok, not really.
I haven’t worn a dress since I wore pigtail’s and that was a looonng time ago.
It did blow through my sweat pants though.
Here is another shot from the garage:
And here is another shot of the yard from the garage in the rare moment that the wind wasn’t blowing the flakes into the garage:
Here is a shot from the back yard:
And I can’t leave the front yard out:
I think it’s great you can’t see all the weeds in that flower bed. 🙂
I can’t see my brother’s house across the street and I sure can’t see Mom and Dad’s next door. I’ll take better pictures tomorrow when it’s daylight.
Merry White Christmas from Arkansas!
Susie
Merry Christmas from our house to yours. I hope you have all had as great a Christmas as I have had.
Susie
Guest post by my 3rd cousin 1x removed, Kookie Hemperley.
One of my fondest memories of the magic of Christmas began when I was a small child while visiting with my grandparents, Wesley and Beulah Thompson Stanley, in the piney woods of East Texas. My aunt, uncles, cousins and our family always gathered at Granny and Pop Paw’s for Christmas.
Pop Paw worked at the lumber mill and had scouted out trees days in advance. On that particular day, a cool crisp one, he told us that if we didn’t go get a tree, Santa wouldn’t come. We eagerly jumped into the back of his old truck and headed out in search of the perfect tree.
Wes Stanley and his Christmas tree hunting truck
Being small children, we would have chopped down any tree if that was all it took for Santa to come, but Wes had something special in mind. We searched and searched. We looked at pines, which he said weren’t shaped right. We looked at cedars and he said their limbs were too flimsy and difficult to decorate. Finally he led us to the perfect tree!
It was a holly, straight, tall and loaded with bright red berries. Everyone agreed it WAS the perfect tree. He sawed it down, threw it in the back of the truck with all the kids sitting around the edge of the bed imaging what Santa would place beneath it.
Granny didn’t have much as far as decorations go; a few tangled, wrinkled icicles left over from Christmases past and some glass balls that time had faded and had very little color. But we decorated it in style! We made a paste from flour and water for glue and made paper chains for garlands, cut out paper lanterns, and the berries complimented the homemade decorations. When it was completely decorated, we were all in agreement. It was magical! Surely Santa would appreciate our handiwork and bring something special. We sang Christmas carols as the aroma of Granny’s specialty, fried apple pies, came from the cast iron stove in the kitchen.
I don’t even remember what Santa brought; I think only apples, oranges and nuts. But that tree and the fellowship we shared instilled in me the love of Christmas and family to share the magic with.
After marriage, Don and I would go to his parents on Christmas Eve to exchange family gifts. Afterwards, my sister-in-law and I would load the kids into a car and take them to see Christmas lights while Don and his brother were busy at our houses putting bikes together and the toys from Santa under the tree which we had gone to the woods and cut down. To the kids, the ride was magical to see the lights others had decorated their yards and homes with. The children never caught on as to why the dads didn’t go with us.
As years passed we set aside one afternoon a couple of weeks prior Christmas to go to the woods and, as Wes would do, chop down a special tree. The kids were almost as excited as I. Usually we cut down a cedar.
But the one thing that had changed was that I now had fallen for flocked trees. Don and Steve would flock the tree as Kelly and I covered our ears from the words Don would utter as the flocker stopped up or the vacuum hose would crimp and the flock would either come out in gobs or not at all. Nevertheless, we had flocked trees. And the bigger the better! Most times they had to be tied to the beams of the den to stand erect after being heavily decorated. Sometimes we made paper chains. Sometimes we baked gingerbread men for ornaments. And despite all of Don’s fussing about having to flock the tree, when it was fully decorated, he never failed to say, “It’s the most beautiful tree we’ve ever had.”
anta always came on Christmas Eve when the kids were small therefore they only had a gift or two from Mom and Dad. After they had outgrown that stage, I would wrap and put the gifts under the tree, where they would shake, rattle, smell and make a million guesses.
Some of the magical moments that are dear to me are granddaughter Rachel’s first
Christmas.
Emy’s visit with Santa.
And the happy faces of Christmas.
Surprises always came packaged differently and one never knew if your big gift would be under the tree, in your stocking, or in the form of something warm and fuzzy.
Don and I always had an Open House where a roaring fire on Christmas Eve warmed friends who would stop by for a bowl of gumbo and beverage. Sometimes we had to wait until they left before Santa came. Sometimes they stayed to see what surprises he would deliver to the Hemperley kids.
I have so many magical memories of Christmas in my lifetime; like the year we were so broke that all Don could afford for me was a pair of house shoes. I don t think I gave him anything.
Or, our first Christmas after he returned home from Japan and we were stationed in Maryland. Maryland had a record snow fall that year, so we bundled up Steve, who was about a year and a half, and played in the snow building a snowman and having snowball fights.
Or the year he surprised me with a color TV and I sat up well after the three stations we could receive went off air and watched the test pattern until the wee hours!
Or many Christmases when the house was so full of relatives, home for the holidays, that we would run out of beds and couches for them to sleep on. Santa must have had a difficult time delivering gifts for there were pallets or sleeping bags on every inch of floor.
Much has changed in my celebration of Christmas. Some loved ones are now gone. I no longer go to the woods for a tree to flock. In fact, this year I put up a flocked fake tree!!!
My kids now have kids and are now Santa!
We still open gifts on Christmas Eve and have gumbo for supper. However, Kelly now cooks it and I can sit back and enjoy the night.
I no longer have kids sniffing or sleeping under the tree. My dog has taken over that job!
The magic of my Christmases began many years ago with my grandfather taking all the grandkids to cut a tree. It’s in my heart. It’s in my memories. It’s with my family. It’s who I am and where I came from.
May we all remember the true meaning of Christmas. May we all remember the past, cherish the present, and look forward to a Christmas that is magical this and every year.
Merry Christmas!!!
Kookie Hemperley
