A VIEW FOR CHRISTMAS

Ten year old Luke Shepherd held his favorite photo, and gazed longingly at the image of he and his father together.  He was two years old when his mother had dressed him for the picture.  His father had assumed a regal pose, and proudly placed his son on his knee.  It had certainly been a joyful day at the Shepherd household those eight years ago.  Times were not so joyful now since Mr. Shepherd's sudden stroke.  It had happened six months earlier, and so far there was little improvement.  The jovial laughter Luke was used to hearing from his father was a memory now. Days were long as he watched his father lie in bed unable to speak, and with little movement.  Mrs. Shepherd was by his side much of the day, and Luke looked after the farm and his two little sisters.  He was so tired by night time, that he would fall on his bed with no cover.   "Mother" would tenderly lay a quilt over her young son, and kiss the blisters on his weathered little hands.  As time went by and Christmas grew closer, she secretly hoped that her children would dream of sugar plums, candy canes, and bright shiny things.  About a week before Christmas, Luke was sitting on his father's bed, and whispered, "Don't worry Papa, I won't let you down".  A sudden determination hit him, and a new energy sparked on the inside.  He looked around that dismal bedroom and decided it was time for a change.  He was sure that his father would get better quicker if there was something new to look at.  Off he ran to the old cedar chest, and took out a fresh pair of curtains.  "There!" he said as he hung them, "Now the whole room is smiling!"  His father managed a very slight smile as well, and Luke saw it.  That was it!!  Luke decided that if a small thing like new curtains made that big of a difference, he would do more.  A surge of Christmas Spirit hit his little brown boots, and he literally made it to the front door in four leaps and two bounds.  "Wait, Luke!" his mother called out, "Take your coat, or you'll freeze!"  As she went to hand him his jacket, he slowly turned and fixed his eyes on his father's torn hat and plaid coat.  "Mama", he said, "I'll be back when I find Papa something to look at".  With that, he slipped into his father's coat, and  taking the hat in his hand, kissed his mama, went outside, and saddled his pony.  Mrs. Shepherd watched as her son placed the hat on his head and rode away.  Snow was lightly falling by the time Luke got to the Wilson's Farm.  He didn't really have a plan, but was sure Mr. Wilson could give him some advice.  Mrs. Wilson was the first to see Luke riding up the lane, and she called to her husband, "Wilson!"  "Come quick Wilson, somebody's coming!"  They stood together on the front porch, and Mr. Wilson suddenly recognized Luke.  "Why, it's the little Shepherd boy", he said to his wife.  They brought him in from the cold, and gave him some nice warm cocoa.  Luke was grateful, and sipped away.  He heard a small cry coming from another room and asked what it was.  "That's our new son", said Mr. Wilson.  "Would you like to see him?"  "His name is Christian".  With that, Luke got up and walked into the room where the baby was lying.  He knelt down beside the small cradle, and held the infant's hand.  "It sure is good to have something new to look at", he said to the child.  Then he returned to the table and finished his cocoa while the Wilson's visited with him and asked about his father.  "That's the reason I came to see you", said Luke.  "I need to find something new for my Papa to look at, because it makes him better."  "Well, then", said Mrs. Wilson, you just look around and help yourself".  Mr. Wilson agreed and handed Luke one of his pipes.  He said, "Take this, and it will remind your Pa of life's simple pleasures."  Luke spied an empty picture frame and said, "This will remind my Papa of new memories to come."  He took a big crystal rock because "Papa would think about how strong he was".  Then, he just went around collecting various things and ended up with a rusty nail, an old victrola record, three dried crabapples, a turkey beard, and some chicken wire.  A ten year old boy simply has different tastes.  Luke kissed the baby, hugged Mrs. Wilson, and shook Mr. Wilson's hand.  After thanking them kindly, he rode away and headed home with his treasures.  His excitement was contagious when he stepped through the front door, and his mother and sisters greeted him with hugs and giggles.  Luke borrowed a small table from his sisters room, and they all went off to see their father.  Nobody knew that he had managed to pull himself upright in the bed.  He got so excited when he heard Luke come home, that he found a new strength.  Mrs. Shepherd almost fainted for joy, and the kids all drowned him in kisses.  Luke proceeded to place the table under the window with the new curtains, and proudly took each item from his knapsack.  His Papa watched with tears flowing down his cheeks as his small son explained every detail.  It was a fine assortment, and worth more than any expensive Christmas present ever could be, because it was from the heart.  After that, every morning when Mr. Shepherd woke up, the first thing he looked at was the table with the things to look at.  He determined that one day he would hold them.  When Christmas morning came, and he looked at the "looking" table, it suddenly struck him funny, and he laughed and laughed until his laughter shook the bed and filled the house.  There were few presents under the tree that day, just some mittens that Mrs. Shepherd had made and wrapped in feed sacks , but nobody was around the tree.  The whole family was laughing together as "Papa" slid off the side of the bed, and placed one foot on the floor.  It certainly was a wonderful view for Christmas! 

BILLY HERMAN

Uncle Lester and Aunt Margaret never did have a kid.  Well, I take that back; they had one, and his name was Billy Herman.  He was a pretty good kid, housebroke and everything.  Most days, the three of them were happy, and lived like a real family.  Aunt Margaret was easy to get along with, but one day Billy Herman ate his own bed.  She pitched a fit all over him, and the two of them were eyeball to eyeball when Uncle Lester walked in.  I guess he sensed the next move was his, so he said something stupid, like; "Oh now Margaret, you know kids will be kids".  Margaret just looked at him for a minute.  All of a sudden she rared up,  backed her ears, and grabbed the bread dough.  Uncle Lester froze, and that dough caught him right square in his "credentials".  In a high pitched voice, he yelled, "Run Billy Herman, Run!"  The two of them struck out the front door, and ran till they got tangled up in the blackberry patch.  Uncle Lester got the worse case of chiggers you ever did see from it.    Aunt Margaret fetched another feed sack to make the kid a new bed, and got herself together.  A few days later after Uncle Lester healed up, he got ready to take a ride in the wagon, with Billy Herman right beside him, of course.  There was a trail that made a big sweep over several farms, one of which was Old Sam's place.  Sam was always on the front porch when Lester drove by, and they always exchanged the same silly greetings every time.  It went like this...Sam would holler, "Hey Lester!"  "How much you take for that goat of yours!"  "Pickled eggs and butter beans!" says Lester.  "All's I got is hog jawls and turnip greens!" says Sam.  "Got some!" says Lester.  "Maybe next time!" says Sam.  That was the extent of their conversation each and every time.  They sure were good friends.  Uncle Lester and Billy Herman were inseparable, and Aunt Margaret didn't really mind tending to either one of them.  She especially got a kick out of watching the two of them out on the front porch together.  Sometimes they sat quietly and stared at the sky, and sometimes they romped around.  Now and then, they shared the same little brown jug.  Uncle Lester got a sip, the goat got a nip, and they both sang "Waltzin' Matilda" in four/four time!

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ADAM'S APPLES

When daddy looked for a good horse, or a good hunting dog, he looked for the right markings.  You don't get to do that with kids.  You get what you get.  I remember my cousin Emma was born with a big black birthmark in the shape of a boot on her left cheek.  (I saw it one Saturday night when we took a bath in the # 3 washtub, and she stood up and turned around).  Cousin Harvey had a peanut on his shoulder which was brown, and he charged a penny for a look.  Now, if you do happen to be born with a birthmark; you only get one, that's the rule.  That was not the case with my friend Adam, who broke that rule for sure.  Adam entered this world with perfectly shaped tiny red apples stamped all over his newborn body.   He was utterly besplattered with them from head to toe.  Some said it was because he was born in a hot air balloon, and it just wasn't natural to get "borned" that high up.  Others said his mama worked the apple orchard too close to birthin' time, but I think his folks ate too many apples, and that's that.  I say it's a darn good thing they weren't raising rutabagas, 'cause Adam wouldn't of come out looking nearly so good.  All the girls thought he was cute, and the boys thought he was bewitched, so he got along fine at school.   Whether Adam liked it or not, he was still somewhat of a sideshow.  Folks who met the boy for the first time would ask him about his apple marks, and he would just laugh and say he guessed he must have been baptized in apple juice.  He was real good natured about it, and that added to his charm.   Oh, he was a charmer, that Adam.  His Maw and Paw never turned anybody away who came to the house to have a look at their boy.  Turned out it was real good for business.  They sold more apples after Adam was born than they could have ever dreamed or imagined.  Eventually, a fella from the city was hired to come out and take a picture of Adam.  Next thing you know, the photographer got rich off of the photo, and went back to the farm.  He put up the money for Adam's folks to build a big two story house, and some good size woodstove sheds.  The family sold apples, apple pie, apple cobbler, applesauce, apple dumplings, apple butter, apple fried pies, apple fritters, apple cake, apple seeds, and apple trees.  With help from the photographer, they also got labels printed with Adam's speckled face on it, and the words, "Adam's Apples" in big red letters.  Of course, like everybody does, Adam grew up and got married.  Two years later he had a son, born with one birthmark. It was always told that the baby was born with an apple in his hand.

DUCKS IN THE FAMILY BIBLE

In every family there's some relatives, which have  gotten misplaced.  These are not the ones who got shot, run off, or put away, because likely as not, they'll show up right before you die.  Sometimes though, you just don't know all your kin folks.  For instance, for most of my life I thought I had three missing cousins named Caladonia, Pocahontas, and Phidelia.  I remember clearly the day that I "found out" about them.  It was after the first snowfall the year I turned twelve, and our family was loaded in the sleigh headed for "yonder field".  We were off to visit Aunt Etta and Uncle Junius again, but daddy never said that;  just always said, "We're going to yonder field".  When we got there, Aunt Etta had set us a big table!  We loved her cooking, well, all except for the gravy.  You could stand a wooden spoon right straight up in the middle of it.  Mama stopped daddy from hanging his hat on it once, and dared us not to let on to Aunt Etta.  Right over beside the old sideboard there was a small table with a crocheted doily and a great big family Bible.  I was particularly curious that day, and the grown ups weren't looking, so I sneeked a peek.  Aunt Etta had carefully recorded pages of births, deaths, marriages, and baptisms.  I found locks of hair and dried flowers in the Old Testament.  When I got big enough to tell mama that I  handled Aunt Etta's Bible after the gravy, I asked how come I never got to meet my cousins; Caladonia, Pocahontas, or Phidelia.  I can't even describe what mama did right then;  it was like she was delightfully insane, laughing hysterically for several minutes.  Come to find out, the three "cousins", were three DUCKS!  See, Aunt Etta was real partial to ducks, and only wanted to raise them for pets.  Uncle Junius had other plans.  The first time he decided to have one for dinner, Aunt Etta cooked it, but she grieved herself to tears.  After, she went over to the family Bible and wrote the duck's name down, hoping that Uncle Junius would take notice.   That first one was Caladonia, then next time was Pocahontas, and last was Phidelia.  Since there weren't any more entries,  I guessed that she got over it, but mama said that Uncle Junius figured if Aunt Etta was going to fill the Bible up with ducks, it just wasn't worth it, so he swore off!  They never ate duck again.  I was real disappointed after all those years to find out I never did have three more cousins.  I had the same feeling the day I found out I got born.  Mama didn't really find me in the bottom of a flour sack...and daddy really didn't have to wait for hot biscuits before she told him.

" HANK'S HILL"

Hank packed up and moved to "Calvey's Corner" right in the middle of a long dry dusty summer.  Folks sure were having a hard time having a good time back then.  The old "Boston Mill" was barely running, and there weren't any peas up on "Peace Ridge".  Water wells were drying and whole fields of crops dying.  The sun felt like it was somehow closer to the earth, but Hank was a brick maker and the sun to him was a willing and friendly "baker".  
With so many farmers out of work, Hank soon had plenty help, and built his house on top of a hill.  That's when things began to change for folks in  Calvey's Corner.  Once his field was plowed, he began to sow seeds in the dry ground.  After all, a man has to eat, so he just went on and did it.  Hank said there was enough water in the ground.  There surely was not any water, but Hank believed it, and his seeds began to sprout.  Word got around, and everybody from town came to see.  Soon families started camping on the hill, sharing what little they had, and waiting for the crop.  At night Hank would sit on his porch and whistle.  He would always wait until the crickets began to chirp and the whippoorwills were calling. His melodies seemed to get caught up in an unseen breeze and carried throughout the countryside.  When he whistled the old hymn, "He Hideth My Soul", trees would sway as if the wind was stirring.  Hank would stop and say, "Listen, do you hear the trees singing?  They're praising God."  It made him chuckle when the children's eyes got real big, and they cleaned out their ears so as to hear.  The moon was so bright at the top of that hill, and folks got to talking about how beautiful it was up there.  Day after day more people would come, and with them, more supplies.  Cabins began cropping up all over the hill, and more fields planted in the parched earth.  Water was too scarce to use on the fields, but somehow there was enough for drinking, and even a little washing.  Hank started making bricks again, and even the old folks gave some of their water for the mixing.  Travelers would stop and buy the bricks, and before long, the whole town was making bricks and selling them.  Stores got built, and the crops matured.  People were happy again, and changed the name of the town to "Hank's Hill".  It rained  after the harvest, and Hank's Hill continued to be an enchanting place where the trees sang, and the children grew.  

MISS MAYHALL AND THE DIRTY EGGS

Miss Mayhall was born in a barn, and got dropped on her head shortly thereafter.  It didn't hurt her bad, but it did make her friendly.  She didn't have a care in the world and was always smiling and singing.  Her favorite song was "Hold The Bell Cow".  You could hear her singing it while she was tending her chickens.   ♫ "Went down to the cornfield to pick a mess of beans, along came the bell cow pecking at the greens."  ♫♫ "Hold the bell cow, catch her by the tail, hold the bell cow, milk her in the pail."  The hens loved it, and laid lots and lots of white eggs.  Miss Mayhall would take her eggs to the General Store and sell them for three cents apiece.  She was secretly saving up for a wedding dress, but would never have told it.  Now most everybody knows that the color of a chicken's earlobes predicts the color of the eggs.  You learn that the same way as how to milk a cow, or how to dress a goose.  (You don't use calico to dress a goose)  These things are just passed down from those who know to those who don't know.  However, for some unknown reason, nobody for miles around had ever raised anything but White Leggerns, and those kind only lay white eggs.  Not one person in the whole county had ever laid eyes on a brown egg, or a dark chicken; that is, except for Miss Mayhall.  She was good at keeping a secret, and had recently discovered a reddish brown hen, which must have escaped from a traveling wagon.   It was a mighty fine looking hen, but at the same time very curious, as far as Miss Mayhall was concerned.  Why, what would it do?  Would it eat corn, lay eggs, cluck, fly, nest? Well, it "certainly must need a nest", she thought, so reluctantly she pitched it in the coop.  None of the other chickens seemed to mind, and the roosters were happy to accommodate the new lady.  She took right to clucking, and eating corn, and laying eggs...very BROWN eggs!!  Oh, what a sight!!  Miss Mayhall gasped as she looked in that nest, and screamed, "Look how dirty!!"  "How shall I ever sell those dirty eggs?!!"  "What will I ever do with them?"  "Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear!"  She decided to wash them.  I heard she even tried to white wash them, until her conscience got the better of her.  There was nothing to do but see if any of the town's folks would be curious enough to try the dirty eggs for themselves.  Miss Mayhall had already eaten a few, and since she didn't die,  figured they were safe enough.  Of course, the price for the dirty eggs would have to be less than the white eggs, so two cents apiece would be fair.  Off she went to the General Store, where to her surprise, she completely sold out!  Folks were so curious, they drew a big crowd, and everybody wanted the dirty eggs more than the white ones!  After that, Miss Mayhall could charge four cents apiece because, of course, the dirty eggs were richer and had a better flavor.  It didn't take long for the dark hen to hatch a brood, and then they started laying, and so on, and so on.  Nobody would have ever guessed that Miss Mayhall would have had enough sense to start her own business, but she did.  She quit selling eggs at the General Store, and opened her own store.  She called it, "Miss Mayhall's Eggs And Goods".  I went in there one time and there was a new wedding dress hanging in the back.  The tag read... "Not For Sale".

THE ARGUMENT

It was early and a most lovely day!  Old Mr. "Clum" Thompson  was headed over to Old Mr. Amos Walter's place.  Everybody knew without  looking because Old Clum's wagon had a real bad squeaky wheel, which he did not intend to fix.  I could hear Mama in the kitchen singing "Beulah Land", and there was a symphony of familiar sounds going on outside. Between the old squeaky wheel, birds, dogs, and crows, it sounded like "squeak squeak, tweet tweet, yip yip, caw caw", "squeak squeak, tweet tweet, yip yip, caw caw".  I laughed at the thought of it, and danced all the way outside.  Old Clum slowed down when he saw me and said I could come along.  (He was an excellent judge of character and knew how nosy I was).  When we got to Old Amos' place, he was skinnin' a rabbit, so I didn't jump down right away.  Old Clum asked me if I was just gonna "set there like a flapjack waitin' for some butter", so I got down.  I was thinking to myself how they sure did look old, and I asked which one was the oldest.  To my surprise, neither one knew exactly how old he was! At the time each was born nobody around those parts could read or write.  It used to drive the census takers crazy, so most times they just made up something.  Old Amos guessed that he was the oldest, but Old Clum disagreed, and they spit and sputtered about it for a good fifteen minutes, got tired and sat down.  After they caught their breath they decided to settle the matter for good.  "Here we go", I thought, "they're takin' it behind the barn"!!  Old Clum had a better idea.  The old bridge over Watson's Creek needed a good fixin', so whichever one got to the middle first, was finished, and therefore was the oldest.  Old Amos thought it was a fine idea, and went to fetch his mule.  Old Clum asked him why, and Old Amos didn't like it, so they spit and sputtered about it for a good fifteen minutes, got tired and sat down.  After they caught their breath that time, they discussed what size boards, and nails, and how much rope they needed.  If one said three feet of rope, the other said different.  If one said one size nail, the other said different, and every time, they would spit and sputter about it, get tired and sit down.  Well, the sun went down finally, so it was too late to start anything that day.  They decided to try again another time, and Old Clum and I left.  Old Clum certainly never did fix that old wheel, and for a long time, most mornings, I could hear, "squeak squeak, tweet tweet, yip yip, caw caw", and I laughed at the thought of it.

AUNT BITSY'S FRECKLE POTION

Aunt Bitsy came down with an "old sore leg" one summer.  I knew she did because I heard folks ask Aunt Reba how her sister's "old sore leg" was doing.  The only income Aunt Bitsy had was from the homemade elixir she made and sold for twenty five cents a bottle.  I don't know what all was in it, but it was guaranteed to keep the freckles away, and the womenfolk bought it so fast, it was hard to keep up.  Mama told Aunt Bitsy it would be all right if us kids went to stay for a week to help out.  She made us promise not to be a burden, and started packing our things right away.  We were about as excited as a cow lookin' at a new gate.  
First thing I heard next morning was the swish swish of Aunt Reba's skirt as she flew through our house gathering food and clothes, and...us.  We kissed Mama goodbye and left for the cottage in the wildwood.  The wagon was so loaded down, I declared it would take us two days to go ten miles.  My brother rode on the back, and my sister and I were on opposite sides,  (usually the case with us anyway).  Close to Watson's creek  my brother yelled he could see two people gettin' baptized down there!  We bowed our heads 'cause we were scared not to! 
When we got to Aunt Bitsy's, she was out on the back porch busily making her Freckle Potion.  After we all hugged, my brother asked to see the "old sore leg".  I knocked him in the head for doin' it!  Aunt Reba wouldn't hear of her sister standing up one more minute on that bad leg, and promptly ordered her to sit down.  That's when we kids went to work.  I never saw so many bottles to fill in my life, but we got 'em all done; and then somebody let the dogs out.  They licked the whole porch off and slept good that night.  
It turned out to be a pretty good week after all.  We all pitched in while Aunt Bitsy took it easy.  At night we would sing "Sally in Her Shimmy Tail", "Strut Miss Lizzy", and anything else we could think of.  In the daytime we would haul bottles of elixir to town and collect what money there was.  Aunt Bitsy was real happy the whole time we were there...sometimes downright giddy.  The "old sore leg" healed just right, and as long as she lived, she never had a freckle.