Christmas in Dixie, written and performed by Alabama in 1982, is one of my favorite songs of the season.

    Christmas in Dixie  

    By now in New York City, there’s snow on the ground

    and out in California, the sunshine’s falling down

    and, maybe down in Memphis, Graceland’s all in lights

    And in Atlanta, Georgia, there’s peace on earth tonight

    Christmas in Dixie, it’s snowin’ in the pines

    Merry Christmas from Dixie, to everyone tonight

    It’s windy in Chicago the kids are out of school

    There’s magic in Motown the city’s on the move

    In Jackson, Mississippi, to Charlotte, Caroline

    And all across the nation, it’s the peaceful Christmas time

    Christmas in Dixie, it’s snowin’ in the pines

    Merry Christmas from Dixie, to everyone tonight

    And from Fort Payne, Alabama

    God bless y’all, we love ya

    Happy New Year, good night

    Merry Christmas, Merry Christmas tonight

    “Snowin’ in the pines” — Now doesn’t that get you in the Christmas spirit? Listening to the words this week I developed a longing to remember Christmas during a simpler time — stories of extended families as they celebrated two or more weeks during the December month. The guests moved from house to house, sleeping on down-filled mattresses piled high with handmade quilts and spread across the old wooden floors.

    The favorite spot, of course, was in front of the open fireplace that crackled with a fire of hardwoods my great grandfather cut and stacked many months in advance, just for cold December nights. Family members gathered around the fire each night with fiddles, guitars, and banjos often accompanied by an old pump organ, which set in the corner of the room.

         The women joined the cheerful fireside musicians with knitting or crochet – the continued preparation of handmade gift items for family members. The party ended early and everyone to bed, because even during Christmas festivities, the early morning chores continued – milking, gathering eggs, churning butter, feeding chickens as well as livestock and the hogs, which were kept in a pen downwind from the family home.

    Each had a responsibility and the guests pitched in to make the load lighter, especially during the days of Christmas celebrations. The memory of my great grandfather is precious when he checked with each person to make sure all was well and comfortable before he turned off the kerosene lamp for the night.

        Meal time would be taken in shifts. There were those who “waited upon the table” (mostly women) and as well were the last to eat. The children were usually seated in an adjoining hallway or smaller room with tight adult supervision. No food fights going on there – Never!

         The preparation of food began right after Thanksgiving. A choice ham was selected in the old smokehouse weeks prior to the Christmas celebrations. The hen turkey was kept in a special pen and only fed corn for weeks before the deed was done to the poor bird’s neck and the feathers plucked. My great grandmother made fruit cakes just after Thanksgiving as well and they were placed in the cold dining room covered by cheesecloth until the Christmas meal/meals were served.

    Another Christmas favorite was Ambrosia that was prepared carefully with just the right amounts of oranges, pineapples and flaked-coconut. The vegetables canned from the kitchen garden harvest were now brought forth to complete the meals.

    My great grandmother often mentioned the family Christmas tree of her childhood when unwrapped Christmas gifts were tied upon a candlelit tree. She said each of the 25 grandchildren had one gift on the tree – only one. It might be a handmade dolly for the girls and hand carved wooden whistles for the boys, plus knitted scarves and hats, and especially small bags of fruit.

         Family members arrived by horse and buggy or wagon. A few might have their first automobile but the roads were unpredictable, especially during the winter months, therefore the Model-T could only navigate to a certain point, where the good road stopped, and a family member met them with horse and wagon to complete the journey to the “old home place.”

         Yes, Christmas in Dixie was a sweeter time then — a time worth remembering.

     Merry Christmas!