AJC > Sports > Columnists > Archives > 2006 > December > 23 > Entry
DEL.ICIO.USOnce upon a time at Christmas
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
Furman Bisher
Those were days of innocence. In smalltown America, life was without pomp and swagger. The arrival of the Christmas season certified all of this. The center of everything was the church. Those of us still of the growing age followed our parents, and the church is where our parents led us. In our little corner of the world there was only one faith, and it was all clearly set forth in the Bible. We had no idea that in other parts of the world other people worshipped other idols.
It was read to us from the pulpit. We studied it in summer Bible school, whether we understood it or not. We knew of no other faith in the world. Jesus Christ was the son of God, and that is what we were taught, and that is what Christmas was about. No questions. No doubts.
Christmas was a magical season. We began looking forward to it as soon as the calendar was turned to the page of December. There was none of that pre-Thanksgiving Day advertising and commercials in those times. Christmas was given its time, compressed into its own wintry space and anticipated not always for the right reasons, hard as my mother tried. She baked cakes, several kinds, and always one fruitcake, one that had a special ingredient never found in one of those commercial bricks: Love. It was Mama’s cake, and Mama’s fruitcake was baked with love. Oh, what fragrance she created in that kitchen.
There was always the Christmas pageant at the little white church on the hill. We started rehearsals three weeks before the annual Christmas program. We shepherds shivered under our sheets — every year each of us was the same, and I was always a shepherd. (My brother, who was very tall, was always Pontius Pilate, which I thought was unfair. I thought he should have had a chance to be a wise man, or a good guy one time or another. But he was always the wicked Pontius.)
When I say we shivered, I lie not. The heat in our church was supplied by a pot-belly stove, and they never fired it up for rehearsals. Saved wood for the main events. So we shivered, and we giggled, and we shoved, or even punched each other in the ribs. It wasn’t easy being so nice and Christian.
Our reward after the Christmas service was the “treat,” as we called it. A bag with some candy or an apple or orange, if the harvest had been good and the price wasn’t too high. Then the lights were turned low, and we all sang “Silent Night,” which I think is the most beautiful Christmas song of all, and you could feel the warmth flow all through your body.
Then go home and go to bed and toss restlessly, so anxious for the dawn to see what was under our little tree.
We never had a big tree. There was no such thing as a Christmas tree lot then. You went out and cut your own, which was my annual mission. I took the axe and went into the woods behind Alson Cranford’s house and picked out a nice one and toted it home, so I didn’t pick the biggest tree in the forest. Decorations were not extravagant. I’m not even sure we had a string of lights, but it was always beautiful to me.
So on Christmas morning the kids were up by dawn’s early light, except my big brother, who knew all the secrets of Santa Claus. I don’t remember that Mr. Claus ever caused me to break out in goose pimples with anything he left, but I do remember that I never got the bicycle I wanted. My little sister did, and another year she got a terrier, and so it went. Later, by the time my joints creaked, I looked under the tree and there was a bicycle at last. A beauty, with a little bell and all. My wife couldn’t bear the thought of a little boy going through his whole life without finding a bicycle under the Christmas tree.
That’s Christmas for you. If it has lost some of the meaning I was brought up with, it’s no fault of the kind of Christmas we observed at our house, and in our little town. Christmas was the holiest day of every year, once you learned the real meaning, and that it has nothing to do with what you find under the tree on that glorious morning. Merry Christmas to all.
Permalink | Comments (18) | Post your comment | Categories: Furman Bisher
Comments
By ICEMAN
December 23, 2006 05:37 PM | Link to this
Mr.Bisher,
Unfortunately, your blog contains too much intelligence and character for the usual idiots to comment. The Iceman relates to what you are describing. It stands in the face of crybaby liberalism and when they read it they don’t know how to respond. They are frozen with awe and confusion wishing for the opportunity to experience what you are talking about.
Have a Merry Christmas sir. I’m on my way to Mississippi where we keep it the way its suppose to be.
P.S.
This is a Black man writing to you.
By reid simmons
December 23, 2006 05:40 PM | Link to this
Merry Christmas, Mr. Bisher. I always cherish your Thanksgiving and Christmas columns the most.
By old timer
December 23, 2006 07:13 PM | Link to this
Mr.Bisher, I lived in alittle place called POCATAILAGO GA.1935 to 1942. We had no electric powerin poca.we made our decorations out of crepe paper.Wedecorated it with love.I hope we can have another tree like it before i die.I can relate to all you said.MERRY CHRISTMAS may you see many more.
By Shawn Smith
December 23, 2006 07:43 PM | Link to this
Mr. Bisher,
What a great column on the way Christmas used to be. I am going to share it with my Sunday School Class in the morning. America was a much better place then. I pray we can find the way back.
By Papa
December 23, 2006 09:58 PM | Link to this
Thank you, Furman, for the affirmation of the sensibility and integrity of the season - and especially the day - as I attempt ti instill this measure in my four young grandsons (no granddaughters yet). The offspring seem to have lost the spirit - but these are the same ones who pluralize with a “z” … Selah, and God bless us.
By Double G
December 23, 2006 10:40 PM | Link to this
Mr. Bisher, thanks for reminiscencing on Christmases past. Your prose blends in like a comfortable chair next to a warm fire on a cold night.
Thanks again.
PS. I still think of the Sunday afternoon college football show with you, Mr. Mehre, Mr. Outlar (sometimes), and your other assorted writers. Now we have the internet. Urgh.
By Malted Falcon
December 24, 2006 01:00 AM | Link to this
Merry Christmas and a happy new year, Mr. Bisher.
By greg
December 24, 2006 07:42 AM | Link to this
A note to old timer. My mother and grandmother grew up in Pocataligo, Ga too and the most wonderful memories I have of Christmas come from the big house on highway 106. Have a wonderful christmas everyone and especially you, old timer.
By Rob Pace
December 24, 2006 08:33 AM | Link to this
Yes Virginia there is a Santa Claus. Thanks for the memories Mr. Bisher. You brought back memories of chestnuts roasting and sugarplums dancing. I knew there was a reason I renewed my subscription to the AJC. Hope you and yours have a Merry Christmas.
By Boots
December 24, 2006 09:10 AM | Link to this
Thanks!
By Waverly & Ann
December 24, 2006 09:16 AM | Link to this
Dear Furman,
A great essay remembering the old days when things were simpler and simple things appreciated. I was ecstatic when I got the bicycle you wanted and used it for 15 years to travel almost everywhere, including my paper route and other teenage ventures. Both of us enjoyed the church-in-a-barn that we shared with you.
By bubba
December 24, 2006 09:52 AM | Link to this
Thank you Mr.Bisher, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to you.
By BillP
December 24, 2006 11:29 AM | Link to this
Thanks, Furman——You never let me down…
By Mark
December 24, 2006 02:10 PM | Link to this
Thanks Mr. Bisher. There is much to be admired about the present, but in arriving here we have sacrificed much of the heritage which you have so eloquently described. I wish you and yours a Merry Christmas; merry because we serve a risen Savior. Just as surely as He left that manger, He left the tomb. And that is why the angels sang.
By Emilee
December 24, 2006 04:43 PM | Link to this
Furman,
I found your entry very moving and I congratulate you on your skill level and wish you the best in years to come.
By Michael Scharff
December 24, 2006 08:57 PM | Link to this
Mr. Bisher, I and my family are truly blessed to be able to continue to enjoy your good work. May you and your family have a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.
By Rodawg
December 24, 2006 10:48 PM | Link to this
Sir Furman, Jesus is the Lord of Lords & King of Kings & Furman Bisher is in his Book Of Life! What a fabulous Christmas gift! Thanks for the Blessings! Merry Christmas & Happy New Year!
By David Duncan
December 25, 2006 01:17 AM | Link to this
Mr Bisher Some of my fondest memories about Christmas are related to that little Baptist Church in East Newnan, Georgia And you are right on when you say we followed our parents to the church. As kids, we always tried to guess who was playing Santa Claus who made his grand entrance into the church on Christmas Eve After Santa’s entry, we exchanged the hundreds of gifts that were under the large Christmas tree. Thanks for taking me back in time to some very fond memories.