My Christmas Memory
Christmas is a hard time for those who have fallen on hard times, but it doesn’t have to be a sad time. That’s one thing my parents taught me. They didn’t say it with words. They said it with the things we did and the food we ate every year, only on Christmas. There’s power in some traditions, especially the ones that bring family together.
We never had a lot of money. In fact, many years the ladies from the “white” church in town would bring us care packages. It was full of flimsy second-rate things that we rarely used. Instead my mother would give us money, ten or fifteen dollars each, and drive us to the five and dime.
We three girls would compare lists and pinch our pennies so that every body (all five family members) had something special for December 25. Sure, it was just flimsy things (necklaces that turned your neck green and cheap cologne) but it was what we spent time and money on.
Back then, Christmas was about celebrating togetherness through giving of ourselves despite our financial condition. We decorated and baked goodies like everybody else. And like everybody else, we gave of ourselves.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Linda Hargrove blends suspense, humor, and faith into compelling stories about race and class in America. Her published writings include two novels: The Making of Isaac Hunt (June 2007) and Loving Cee Cee Johnson (September 2008).
The former environmental engineer currently resides in Greensboro, North Carolina with her husband and three sons where she operates 1721 Media, LLC, a graphic design company catering to small and medium sized nonprofits and small businesses. Visit her online at www.LLHargrove.com.