Posted by
Frigglesnitz on Wednesday, December 20, 2006 10:08:22 PM
My blog that follows was inspired by Sam, of The Weedpatch Gazette, in his blog "Grandad and Santa Claus."
http://theweedpatchgazette.townhall.com/default.aspx?mode=post&g=c1032b28-89f6-4752-aa64-90232843717e&comments=true#178ea109-92bd-4abe-b48b-782d447dca8b
The Weedpatch Gazette blog "Grandad and Santa Claus" brought back many memories of life during "the war." (Many of us to this day, when we refer to "the war," mean World War II. And World War II is not a subject to be covered here; it is simply a reference to the times to which you referred. As an aside, years before my time, when people of my geographical area referred to "the war," the war they meant was the Civil War!)
Many items were rationed; sugar was one. This was one commodity for which my mother must have traded ration stamps dearly. How do I know? Almost every Friday night in late fall, one of my sisters would have a friend over, and we would all sit around an old round oak table, newspapers spread on top, while we shelled pecans from the trees in our yard to go into the FUDGE that either my sister and her friend or my mother would make. As any cook knows, fudge requires lots of sugar. Somehow my mother made sure we had it.
Rubber for automobile tires was in short supply, as it was needed in the war effort. However, my father had a job with the Post Office delivering mail on a rural route. As a result of that great fortuity, our automobile never wanted for tires!
There was so much rationing that I cannot remember everything that was rationed. There may have been some grumbling going on, but deep down the citizens of this great country knew that the little hardships caused by shortages of such minor items were infinitesimal when looked at from the vantage point of the great war we were fighting, knowing we would win.
Where pecan trees grow almost wild, providing an abundance of their irresistible, fragrant, woody, wild, sweet taste, little girls also went barefoot, wearing shoes only on Sunday for Sunday School and church. Shoes were worn on other special occasions as well, but for the most part the wild little creatures ran about completely unshod, completely free to wiggle toes, completely free to run on rocks, sometimes making bleeding cuts and gouges that these days would require stitches. My mother fixed me up herself, pouring on rivulets of iodine causing me to scream in pain, with both of us blowing on the wound to put out the fire.
It would seem the little wild humans grew like the pecan trees. Our wounds healed, and we squeezed our feet once again into the dreaded shoes on Sunday.
My mother was a good seamstress. In those days, it was almost a requirement of a mother with children. Flour was purchased in great fabric sacks, and I have worn many a flour sack dress. Because I was the baby of the family, I may even have worn hand-me-down flour sack dresses!
I had no idea there was anything wrong with a four sack dress. I had no idea we were "poor." Besides, my wonderful mother usually made my doll dresses just like mine! For almost everything she made for me, she made my doll one of the same. I spent hours dressing my doll.
This is the same doll that had been brought by Santa Claus. In the geographical areas where pecan trees grow nearly wild, there were few chimneys. Santa came in through the keyhole, if you can imagine such a thing. However, if you can believe Santa slides down a chimney with a sack full of toys, you can also believe Santa can come in through a keyhole.
In fact, Santa can and does make appearances whenever and wherever and however he chooses. It helps, of course, if you've been good, not bad. You know -- you've heard it sung often enough, and you've sung it yourself often enough -- that he's making a list, and checking it twice! But you know Santa will be there.
That's the way it should always be. And that's the way it will always be.