As Planet Earth nears the end of another orbit around the sun, many in the United States observe Christmas Day. It’s celebrated as a religious day, this 25th day of the last month of the year, just two weeks away.
This column about Christmas came to me just a few minutes prior to announcing the King City Chamber of Commerce and Agriculture’s Annual Lighted Christmas Parade. One would think the whole of such a parade with colorful entries and streets lined with people, children in abundance waiting for the Big Guy, would be enough to trigger a Christmas-themed column; but it wasn’t.
As the Cork and Plough was just yards away from the announcer’s stand and knowing I was going to be occupied for at least 90 minutes, I decided to make a quick visit to the facilities. Passing I saw a threesome, two ladies and a gentleman, sitting at a window table; all three King City folks. We exchanged a few words and as I went about my mission, I heard my name called and when I turned there were faces I have known, dare I say it, for decades; they were Greenfield folks. Their words were very kind, as always because these three are that kind of people, and after I departed my mind went quickly to a social media site where recently a photo of a dairy was shown with the historical notice there were once over 400 dairies in Monterey County; the majority owned and operated by Swiss Italian immigrants and their progeny.
I made a comment that back in the 1950s I lived on Fifth Street in Greenfield for nine years just a block and a half south of the Morisoli Brothers dairy, and though a small dairy, it nonetheless covered a few acres at that time right on the edge of town. The original house still stands on Apple Street, its turret and front porch easily recognizable to anyone who remembers 60-plus years ago; and I know one lady in that Greenfield trio surely remembers it because she no doubt woke up to its sounds and smells for much of her childhood.
Putting the two together, an old Greenfield memory and a present-day event, was the catalyst for a little walk down memory lane and how I recall Christmases past. I was raised a Methodist in a very old building that is admired to this day by many as a beautiful example of Old English church architecture, and it was there that like many of my peers I learned about Christmas. What we learned was the Christmas Story, the birth of the baby Jesus, and the gifts given him by three important travelers from afar on the night of his birth.
“We haven’t forgotten that night down though the centuries, we celebrate with stars hung on the Christmas tree and the cry of bells and with gifts, especially with gifts. We buy them and wrap them and put them under the tree, you give me a tie, I give you a book, Aunt Martha always wanted an orange squeezer, Uncle Harry can use a new pipe.” Nice words, huh? That’s because they ain’t mine; those two sentences were written by a heavenly angel and read by an earthly pastor in “The Bishop’s Wife” and is included because we can all agree Christmas-themed movies are a big part of many people’s annual traditions.
My first foray into acting and public speaking came from Sunday School where I remember being a shepherd once and narrator once for a short Nativity put together by either my mother or Cora (we all loved Cora; she was Carol and Janet and Melvin and Artie and Debbie’s grandmother); this was also a time when I took my first trips north to Salinas for any shopping not done in town. I remember the feel of the smooth wooden banister running down the steps into Sear’s basement where the toys were, the decorated aisles of Penny’s, the diner inside Woolworth’s, and hoping that my parents would agree to some sweets from Pollyanna Bakery.
I remember the simple, large-colored light strings that lit up eaves outside and trees inside and thin wooden displays of Santa and his reindeer pulled sleigh that were lit up but did not move. At the local movie house, The Greenfield Theatre, Santa would be onstage in front of a houseful of kids waiting for their gift bag of an orange, a few walnuts, a couple candy canes and a tree ornament shaped sugar cookie; in later years he made his way into town in a helicopter. For years a truck pulled a trailer plied with hay bales whereupon sat dozens of 4-Hers singing carols as they traversed the town.
A couple of years one church had a tall, three-tiered wooden tree with its choir at each level called The Living Christmas Tree. The two-week recess from school often found us back on campus for football games comprised of kids from 9 to 19 and those often wet, always sweaty, and dirty, games are among my best Christmas memories. It was of course a simpler time here in the Valley and we who recall a far less commercialization of the day may forget that the current generation of young people are just as thrilled about Christmas as we were at their age; and that is fine.
For the next two weeks, I’ll hear the familiar strains of Christmas carols and songs and will revisit film favorites like “It’s a Wonderful Life,” two versions of “A Miracle on 34th Street,” “The Bishop’s Wife” and modern counterpart “The Preacher’s Wife,” “A Christmas Story” and hopefully “A Charlie Brown Christmas,” with Linus’ timely recitation of the Christmas Story; but not “Little Drummer Boy” (always makes me cry), and I will be quite content with what I have in life.
Take care. Peace.
