A Christmas Memory by Earl Poplin (born in 1931.)

I’ve been asked to recount some Christmas memories from my childhood. A formidable task since the time lapse between then and now is greater than I like to think. (I will confide in you that remembering home is the biggest challenge. You’ll find this out if you live long enough.) But back to Christmas memories.

I grew up in Buies Creek and had grandparents in Union and Stanly counties. My maternal grandparents lived on a farm in a two-story farmhouse that always looked and felt welcoming to a child, or adult for that matter. It had what I learned to call a “sleeping porch” upstairs. I always slept there. It was always cold. Very cold! That was dealt with, though, with quilts my grandmother had made, with the help of friends. Also, warm bricks for the feet and on top of all that a sheepskin from the flock my grandfather always kept. 

One thing that I remember about the food was that at every breakfast there was a platter of country ham (the real country ham of the day which was salt cured on the farm), red-eye gravy and, like every meal, homemade bread. That was not routine fare in Buies Creek.

Another memory not connected with food had to do with out buildings. One of these was a huge barn with a hayloft where you could play all sorts of fun games. Another building of particular interest to me was a wellhouse built of huge slabs of slate quarried on the farm. I can still see the date 1883 scrawled in a prominent place on one stone. Incidentally, at one end of the structure there was a beehive. I learned at an early age to leave bees alone.

Even the soil type and topography of Union County were an advantage to children of the day when the word “play” meant outdoors. The terrain was hilly with one very long, steep hill. The road, of course, was not paved. When conditions were just right the clay surface was so hard and smooth you could coast downhill for what seemed to us forever in a wagon. In contrast, the roads in Buies Creek were sandy. Try coasting on that or riding a bicycle or tricycle for that matter. 

I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the Santa Claus and gift-giving side of Christmas as I and most of my peers experienced it. My generation grew up during the Great Depression, but I don’t like to dwell too much on those difficult times, although they were all too real to most. But to help make the point, my father at least had a job as a professor at what began as Campbell College, a very small Baptist-affiliated institution that at times struggled to meet the payroll. In this environment you saw very few, if any, new bicycles given as Christmas gifts. My sister, who was four years older, had received a bike several years before I learned to ride. So we did the logical thing, I rode her bicycle. This worked out fine since I seemed to enjoy that mode of transportation more. I don’t even remember being discriminated against because it was a girl’s bike. 

Santa Claus seemed to be far more health conscience then. I remember he brought raisins, oranges, apples and nuts. And I remember getting books, too. One Christmas I got a large book entitled “ Birds of America.” I spent a lot of time becoming a bird expert in my own mind, so much so that the next Christmas I got another volume entitled “Animals of America.” Also, I had an aunt who was a school teacher who was a source of some great children’s books, some of which I still have. I know to my grandchildren and my one great-grandchild these seem pretty meager gifts, what with no plastic, but they were pretty typical I believe. We are talking about a time when there was very little money in circulation. I don’t remember feeling deprived; most of my friends had love, a stable home and we were made aware at an early age what Christmas was really about.