Holidays come and gone

Iwas reading a book my wife gave to me for Christ mas, written by one of my ancestors in 1887 by the name of Reverend William Eldridge Hatcher, and he was talking about the Sunday afternoon traditions of his day. I was amazed to see how little has changed in all the years that have passed since those words were printed.

He tells of the family gathering at his grandfather’s home in the afternoon to sit around and talk and eventually dinner would be served.

“It was only a country dinner,” the old preacher wrote, “composed of simple products of farm and garden, but it was, at least, abundant, cordially dispensed and richly enjoyed.” I read those words from so many years ago and it brought to mind so many dinners just like that I have had at my family’s tables. I thought of Grandaddy pulling some peppers and tomatoes from his garden behind the garage. I thought of all the corn I shucked on Nana’s porch and how the corn silk would stick to everything like little fibers do insulation. I could still taste the cornbread with peppers in it and the fried okra with just enough breading on it.

We’ve never been big on fancy meals, on my mother or fathers side of the family. I come from people on both sides that cherish simple quality time over anything else and I think I’m all the richer for having been raised that way.

As he described a family who “gave their hours to happy fellowship” I reflected on the innumerable hours that I have done the very same thing with my family. I smiled remembering the funny stories told around those tables and became sad with the knowledge that as time goes on those times will be harder to come by.

I closed the book carefully, mindful of its age, and stared at our Christmas tree for a few moments. I could smell the ham in the oven and hear the children’s laughter and for a minute I was in Virginia in the early 19th century.