(Most Photos taken on Christmas Day 2022)
To begin with, this posting would not even happen if it weren't for two reasons:
1) That the farm animals in Greenfield Village's barns - horses, cows, pigs, etc. - need daily care and attention, therefore at least one of the farmers has to visit daily to do the necessary chores to ensure the animals are all safe and fed.
2) That Tom Kemper happens to be the farmer with the foresight to take a few minutes to snap such wonderful pictures on this most wonderful day of the year - - most of the images here were taken on his own time away from his own family. Thank you sir - - you have blessed all of us who love this place of history so much by such a simple act!
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Ghosts of Christmas Past can be seen in the pictures included herein. Oh! those of us who visit Greenfield Village in person or see the homes and presenters through photos here on Passion for the Past may think, "well, Ken, this is no big deal."
But it actually is, especially for those of us who can feel the spirits within the walls...that roam about the historic buildings. Every outdoor picture here, sans one, was taken on Christmas Day itself by Farmer Tom.
No big deal?
I think it is!
I think it is!
No, the structures don't look any different.
It's the spirit within you that makes all the difference.
Yep---I do firmly believe that.
So, I'd like to present, courtesy of farmer and GFV employee, Tom Kemper, many of his photographs taken on Christmas Day 2022 at Greenfield Village. In fact, if it is an outdoor shot, all but one were taken by Tom. All other (especially indoor) pictures were from my own camera:
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| A replicated printing of a historic advertisement from, according to research, 1868. |
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| Henry Ford had his birthplace restored to look as it did in 1876, when he was thirteen years old. One can just imagine young Henry very begrudgingly taking care of his morning farm chores, whether it was Christmas Day or not...and no matter how cold or how much snow was on the ground. |
Meanwhile, inside the Ford parlor -
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| Awaiting for the festivities to begin! "C'mon, Henry! Get your chores done!" |
Sadly, I could find no information about how Henry Ford actually celebrated Christmas as a child, but from what I've read, oftentimes morning chores, such as feeding and caring for the pigs, cows, horses, sheep, and chickens (and any other animals they may have), perhaps fetching water, building a fire in the hearth or stove, and other chores were expected to be completed before checking their Christmas stockings for surprises.
Life on a 19th century farm.
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| Just past the Ford Farm we see the turn-of-the-20th-century-town loom up: on the left we have the Cohen Millinery Shop, the Heinz House, and in the distance, the Sir John Bennett Sweet Shop/Bakery. On the right we see most prominently, the Wright Brothers Cycle Shop. |
As you can see, we awakened to a White Christmas this morning, and it continued to snow lightly throughout the day. Yes, White Christmas's are a dream for many, but for us here in Michigan, it is a reality!
The city sidewalks are not very busy at all on Christmas morning.
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| So now we are passed the Sweet Shop, looking back from whence we came, and on the left here we have a replication of a New England Town Hall, while on the right we see the building housing the Herschell-Spillman Carousel |
Many 17th and early 18th century New Englanders did not celebrate Christmas, mostly for religious reasons. However, as time went on, more and more churches throughout New England added Christmas sermons to the date of December 25 and began celebrating this holy day of Christ’s birth, and by mid-century it was well on its merry way. In 1772, the Baptist church of Newport, Rhode Island observed Christmas for the first time in its history, and Congregationalist minister, Reverend Ezra Stiles was in attendance. “It is probable,” he wrote shortly after, “this will begin the Introduction of Christmas among the Baptist Churches…” In his December 25, 1776 diary, Stiles wrote, “This day the nativity of our blessed Savior is celebrated through three quarters of Christendom…but the true day is unknown.”
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| The town hall faces the Village Green, which most New England villages had. And directly across we have a wonderful replication of a New England church! This non-denominational chapel design was based on a Universalist church in Bradford, Massachusetts. The bricks and the doors came from the building in which Henry Ford and Clara Bryant were married in 1888 - the Bryant family home in old Greenfield Township (from which the Village name was taken). And the bell, according to the 1933 guide book, was cast by Joseph Warren Revere, the son of Paul Revere! The name "Martha-Mary" came from the first names of his mother and mother-in-law. Sticking by his original New England village plan, Ford made sure that the steeple of the church was the highest point in Greenfield Village. This was as it was in most towns across America. |
Churches were one of the very first buildings to be built upon the formation of any new settlement, and they were always to be the tallest structure in any town or village - the point to where anyone from any part of town may see it was very important. It also would house the bell to be rung for service or for important news - the bells were used as a call to worship, to ring the time of day in the community, as a wedding peal, as a solemn funeral toll to mark the passing of a cherished member, to summon townsfolk for important news, or possibly as a warning…perhaps of an impending attack - therefore it could be heard farther into the countryside the higher it was. So rather than build an extremely tall building, they built a tall steeple to place the cross atop and put the bell inside instead.
Since there were no such things as records or any kind of recordings or even radio available at this time, church on Christmas Day would have been the place to hear the lovely Christmas Carols.
Just to the left as we face the church is the Eagle Tavern.
Now, taverns at this time - mid-19th century - were more for travellers than considered a drinking establishment, though more and more, as the century went on, their reputation began to change to where by the early 20th century, taverns were in close association of what we today call a bar.
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| Early in the 19th century, a stage line was operated between Detroit and Tecumseh on what was originally an Indian trail. With the coming of the early settlers from the east, however, it became the settler's route as well. As traveling increased and roads were made possible for stagecoach travel, taverns were built along this route. The first stage stop that comes our way on our journey west was originally known as Parks Tavern when it was built in Clinton, Michigan, around 1831. Parks Tavern was renamed the Eagle Tavern in 1849 and that name remained until the Civil War. |
It was one of the first of the taverns built on this road, which eventually extended to Niles, Michigan in 1832, and then, by 1833, the road made it to Chicago, when it became known as the Chicago Turnpike, and finally the Chicago Road/US 12.
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| My wife and I enjoying a Christmas meal many years ago, dressed as if we were in the year 1860. And that is Mr. Fred Priebe, in the role of Calvin C. Wood, owner and caterer. |
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| A festive party at the Eagle Tavern! Here we are, a few of the locals from the 1860s community of Clinton, Michigan enjoying a fine meal at the Eagle Tavern. No, this is not a reenactment - we are living historians who like to dress up in period clothing "just because," and do so frequently. By wearing our clothing of the 1860s we kind of help with the period atmosphere, too. Don't try to understand - it's just what we do. |
Let's head eastward toward the porches & parlors end of the Village, where. perhaps we'll find ghosts of Christmas Past:
This house, built in 1870, originally stood near the laboratory where Thomas Edison and his men toiled in Menlo Park, New Jersey.
Yes, it's true the presenter actually was preparing the meal listed, but I'm not quite sure if that would have been a Christmas meal. Of course, out on the frontier, a Christmas dinner could have been anything beyond the norm.
Did he celebrate?
I cannot find any information, so we'll follow the lead of Greenfield Village.
It was artist Nast who is most responsible for the still prevalent image of Santa Claus as a rotund, bearded, benevolent figure.
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| Technically not part of Porches & Parlors, the Sarah Jordan Boarding House is a part of the Edison District, for it's here where many of Edison's workers lived while working for the great inventor. |
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| While inside the house Sarah and her daughter celebrated Christmas with their table-top feather tree, made of real goose feathers positioned to look like pine tree branches. |
Now, I would imagine a few of Edison's workers who boarded at Aunt Sally's boarding house may have remained there, while others could possibly have made their way back home to be with family. Perhaps this would have been one of those rare occasions where Sarah and her daughter dined with the men, as long as they behaved themselves. But I have not heard anything on this.
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| Heading eastward, we come across the Whittier Tollhouse & Shoe Shop. The tiny, seemingly insignificant shack, which served as the toll keeper's stall, was built in 1828 in Rocks Village, East Haverhill (pronounced HAY-vruhl ), Massachusetts, on the banks of the Merrimac River, near a draw bridge that connected the towns of East Haverhill and West Newbury. |
And just beyond the Tollhouse/Shoe Shop...
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| Ha! You thought I was going to say "The Covered Bridge," didn't you? Well, nope---just before we get to the bridge, we have a few historic structures: on the left is the Luther Burbank Office, built sometime between 1903 or 1906. Luther Burbank (1849 - 1926) was an American botanist, horticulturist, and a pioneer in agricultural science. That red building distant left is his birthplace, built about 1800. In the center we have what every small town seemed to have: a gazebo. This was built inside Greenfield Village as a replication of an original. Now, on the right... |
Christmas for Luther was probably not very different from Henry Ford, for his father was also a farmer. Interestingly, a later owner of the house split the frame structure in half and constructed a brick building in the middle. Ford bought only the two original wings.
By early summer of 1937, the Burbank House, now put back together as it once was, had found a new home in Greenfield Village.
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| ...the Ackley Covered Bridge, built in 1832 by Daniel and Joshua Ackley, from whose land, near West Finley Pennsylvania, the great oak timbers came. There was much help from the men of the community in its construction. |
As we cross the bridge, the road veers to the left, and that's when the "Porches & Parlors" neighborhood opens up to us.
There are numerous wonderful houses to visit here, but I always turn right at the corner and head directly to my favorite house in the Village, the ca1750 home built by Samuel Daggett, where he and his wife and children lived for many decades to come.
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| One thing we are told about the Daggetts and their, ahem, celebration of Christmas is that since Samuel & Anna and family were practicing Congregationalists, they did not celebrate the Christmas holiday, for they considered it to be Papist (Catholic), and the date was not biblically based. |
You see, the Daggetts came from strong Puritan stock, and Puritans valued order over other social virtues, reasoning that men required rules to guide them and bind them to their good behavior. Authority dominated people's lives, beginning with the highest authority of God, then the authority of religious leaders, and finally the authority of the male head of the household.
In the 1760s, though changes were on the horizon, many of these attitudes would have still described rural New England families. Many still perceived themselves as deeply religious people. They observed the hand of God in everyday occurrences. They believed in hard work and maintaining high moral standards.
And this could definitely apply to the Daggetts.
Now, there were quite a few religious denominations, including Congregationalists, who disapproved of Christmas because of its blending of Paganism with Christianity, though many of their religious flock still enjoyed the day, either privately or even with a day in prayer. With Sam being a Deacon in his Congregational church, I do question on whether he would allow any acknowledgement of the day. However, many of these same folk happily and publicly celebrated the coming of the New Year, and so for plenty in the Protestant populace it was a much bigger holiday.
The next three pictures are from my camera, and I included them to sort of add more illustration to the story:
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| I took this picture of the Daggett House during a snowstorm in late December 2021. |
Meanwhile, inside the Daggett House...all is calm and quiet.
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| I sure do wish we celebrated Christmas here! So, though the Daggetts may not wish you a Merry Christmas, I most certainly will! Merry Christmas!! |
Even though the Daggett’s most likely did not celebrate Christmas, they most certainly would have heard, at the very least, a few carols in their time - - - perhaps even in their church, for some such carols are religious and praise in nature, therefore may possibly accepted.
Christmas carols of some form have been around for millennia, and, believe it or not, a few from the ancient times still remain in our midst. For instance, from 12th century Ireland comes The Wexford Carol, medieval England gave us The Boars Head Carol and The Gloucestershire Wassail. God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen is said to be from the 15th century. Bring A Torch Jeannette Isabella and Coventry Carol are both from the mid-1500s, with the mid-to-late 1600s bringing us All You That Are Good Fellows, I Saw Three Ships, The Huron Carol, and The First Noel. The Holly and the Ivy is from around 1710, Joy To the World was written in Virginia in 1719, Hark! The Herald Angels Sing was written in 1739, and O Come All Ye Faithfull is from the 1750s - all being examples of the many carols from 12th century Europe through the late American colonial period. In fact, by the mid-18th century, most of these Christmas songs began showing up in New England hymnals.
I also researched 12th Night celebrations and have come to the conclusion that if the Daggetts and other Congregationalists did not celebrate Christmas, why would the celebrate 12th Night? Some early Puritan settlers very much disliked the holiday, viewing it as lazy, gluttonous, and too closely related to the Roman Catholic Church.
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| This image of yours truly was taken by my wife as I warmed myself at the hearth of the great hall inside this home. |
On a deep frosty late December evening in 2017, I journeyed to historic Greenfield Village during Holiday Nights while wearing my clothing from the 1770s. Besides a cotton shirt, a waistcoat (vest), coat, knee breeches, thick wool stockings, wool mittens, wool scarf & knitted cap, and leather shoes, I also wore my woolen cloak, which worked very well in keeping me warm in such frigid weather. Even though the temperature on this night was in the single digits and the wind blew harshly, keeping the chill far below zero, my upper chest region was warm, thankfully, due in no small part to my cloak. However, the lower quarter of me was quite cold, especially from the knees on down. Entering this historic house I stepped to the blazing hearth where the warmth of the fire upon my person at that moment felt better than any other warming device could. My toes in the leather buckle shoes were biting - they ached like I never felt them ache before - and it took a while for the "thaw" to take place, but they, too, came back to life, though were still pain-filled.
I could actually feel the warmth of the fire engulf me as I stood in front of the hearth there as this image was captured inside the Daggett house - not too close, mind you! - and I appreciated it on this extreme bitter night like I never had done before.
Being out in the single digit temps and harsh winds for over four hours in period clothing certainly gave me more of an understanding, appreciation, and a deeper respect for our ancestors and the way they survived.
Okay! Back to the Christmas Day pictures!
From the Daggett House I step across the road to see the picturesque Cotswold Cottage, built in England around 1620.
Christmas celebrations in Europe during the late Renaissance (early 1600s) were marked by feasting, gift-giving, carol singing, and general merriment. However, these celebrations also often included drunkenness, gambling, and rowdy behavior.
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| The forge, here, on the right, was operated by members of the Stanley family for nearly 300 years, until smithy Charles Stanley's death in 1909. |
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| Henry Ford desired to show America's ancestral European life and sent his agent, Herbert Morton, to find a typical Cotswold stone house for Greenfield Village. Morton eventually located this circa 1620 Rose Cottage in Chedworth, Gloucestershire, England, and found that it was for sale. |
By September of 1930, the Cotswold Cottage was rebuilt on Michigan soil, ready to teach American visitors of European life lived more than four hundred years before.
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From what I've been able to find out, the phrase Merry Christmas is indeed the greeting one was more likely to use in the 17th, 18th, and 19th centuries. "Different sources trace the origin of the phrase back to different dates, but in each case, they all pre-date the 18th century. The casual use of 'Merry Christmas' in Charles Dickens' "A Christmas Carol" seems to suggest that it was already well-known to the English by the early to mid-19th century." According to research, it wasn't until 20th century England that Happy Christmas became the more popular phrase in that country. |
Meanwhile, inside Cotswold...it's the early 1940s - World War Two, many GIs welcomed the chance to spend Christmas with British families. Despite these efforts to celebrate, Christmas was still a difficult time for soldiers separated from their families and friends.
Think: "I'll Be Home For Christmas" and "White Christmas."
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| A Red Cross helper helps with the Christmas celebration for the American servicemen stationed in England inside Cotswold Cottage in the 1940s. |
Next door we have the Giddings House, another favorite:
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| Another early colonial American home that catches our eye is the Giddings House. John Giddings, the builder of this house, was born in 1728 in Exeter, New Hampshire. He married Mehetable Gilman in the fall of 1751, and since nearly every research page that mentions this house says it was constructed in that same year, I'm going to speculate that he built it a number of months beforehand with the thoughts of his new bride and the hope for a future family in mind. From what I understand, the Giddings family were also non-celebrants of this most-favored holiday. |
Christmas, though widely celebrated at this time by many (but not all) in the colonial period in American history had stiff competition with New Year's celebrations, often due to the fact that many folks in New England didn't celebrate Christmas due to lack of dates in the Bible. So it's a New Year celebration that is shown inside the Giddings house during Holiday Nights. But I do often wonder if there may have been, at the very least, a growing acknowledgement of Christmas for some previous non-participants (here and elsewhere, as mentioned earlier in this post).
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| Meanwhile, inside Giddings... Celebrating the New Year with Mrs. Giddings - welcome 1770! |
Being that Giddings was a shipping merchant, he and his wife could very well have done some light celebrating of Christmas. I don't know for sure, but it would nor surprise me.
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| Built inside the Village in 1935, this building, according to the early guidebooks from the 1930's, '40's, and '50's, represents the type of watchmaker's home in the Jura Mountains of Switzerland. Most of the doorways, windows, and iron works are from an original Swiss structure. This is the break building for many of those who work in this area of the Village. |
Moving up along the road...on the opposite side...
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| According to sources at the Benson Ford Research Center, there is a strong probability that this cabin was built by William Holmes McGuffey's maternal grandparents, William and Jane Holmes, in Washington County, Pennsylvania in 1789. |
William, who was born in this cabin in 1800, grew up to not only write the McGuffey Reader schoolbooks for children, but he was also a Presbyterian minister. In the colonial era, many religions, including Presbyterianism, did not celebrate Christmas. Like the Congregationalist Daggetts, they believed that there was no biblical evidence that Jesus was born on December 25, and they were suspicious of traditions that developed after the earliest days of Christianity. In later years though, Presbyterians began to hold formal Christmas services after noticing that their members were attending English church services. William, who lived to 1873, quite possibly could have been one of those who did. There just isn't much information about whether William Holmes McGuffey celebrated Christmas.
We'll show it as if he and his family did.
Let's look inside the cabin on this Christmas Day:
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Besides the oat cakes, which Mrs. McGuffey is preparing to cook here, roast rabbit, stewed pears and Turnbridge pudding were also on the menu. |
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| The same year that Ford re-erected McGuffey's Birth Place in Greenfield Village - 1934 - he used original logs from an 18th century barn on the Holmes property in Washington County, Pennsylvania to build a one room McGuffey School inside the Village as well. |
What Henry Ford replicated here was what many pioneer country schools looked like during the time of William Holmes McGuffey, and, due to the fact that the McGuffey Readers of the 19th century influenced so many of the era that Ford built this school in full honor of McGuffey.
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| And we have three more buildings shown next: directly in front, the little cabin is the replicated birthplace of George Washington Carver, the great dark building just behind it is the Logan County Court House, and the Town Hall is back there on distant right. These last two most certainly would have been closed on Christmas Day. |
George Washington Carver was well-known for his experiments with the peanut, sweet potatoes, soybeans. and pecans, and he advocated and taught crop rotation which helped the poor farmers, who previously farmed only cotton, to grow a variety of crops. In doing this, Carver vastly improved the economy of the southern states. In my research I found that Mr. Carver did indeed celebrate Christmas. In fact, he received a Bible from a devout Black couple for Christmas when he was a teenager. He carried and read the Bible every day for the rest of his life.
The Logan County Court House was where Abraham Lincoln once practiced law before running for President.
The Town Hall is a replication Ford had erected as part of his Village Green.
Across the street from this area we find the Adams House:
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| The birthplace of George Matthew Adams (born in 1878), this house has been closed for nearly ten years. I've been told of plans to reinterpret it into more of an 1840s house - the era in which it was built - but I am waiting for that to happen. |
As it was presented as a house from the 1870s, we can imagine the Adams' household on Christmas Day...and I have read he was a celebrator of the holiday, so let's take a peek inside the home on December 25th and see what it may had been like;
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| ...with all of the necessary holiday preparations, for friends and family will soon be coming by, walking through the snow or, perhaps, by horse and carriage. |
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| The Adams Christmas Tree in the family parlor. Note the Noah's Ark beneath it - a very popular religious toy of the 19th century. |
Next to the Adams House as they are inside Greenfield Village we have the Chapman House, originally built in 1860 in the same city that Greenfield Village is in - Dearborn.
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Here is the home of a former school teacher who once taught at the Scotch Settlement School, John Chapman. Imagine admiring your teacher so much that you have his house restored for future generations to see and learn from! |
I cannot find any information, so we'll follow the lead of Greenfield Village.
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| A small token of Christmas in the home of Mr. Chapman. |
Heading over to Smiths Creek Depot, we also find Christmas Day celebrations occurring, for this was also the stationmaster's home for he and his family, and is typical of country railroad stations in the mid-19th century.
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| The Smiths Creek Depot was originally built around 1858-59 in Smiths Creek, Michigan near Port Huron. A young Thomas Edison worked as a news and candy "butcher" on the train ride from Port Huron to Detroit and back. |
As a "butcher," during this mid-19th century era, Edison was a vendor of sorts, and would sell candy, hot dogs, etc., while aboard the train. It was during one such trip, in 1863, that an angry conductor threw young Tom off the train at this particular Smiths Creek depot when the boy accidentally set the baggage car on fire while conducting a chemical experiment using phosphorus.
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| A small table-top Christmas Tree is all decorated for an 1860s Christmas inside the depot. |
One can only imagine...
A replicated 19th century printing shop is closed after spending weeks...
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| The print Shop |
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| ...Thomas Nast Santa prints from the 1880s. |
Near the print shop we have the Spofford Saw Mill:
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| Built on a stone foundation, the Spofford Saw Mill was built in Georgetown, Massachusetts in the late 1600's by John (or possibly son Abner - or both) Spofford. Lumber from this mill was used to make houses, barns, shops, and possibly ships. Alas, on Christmas Day, the workers are all at their homes, celebrating. |
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| In the Liberty Craftworks area, all is calm, all is bright. |
Next we have what could be the most popular historic structure inside Greenfield Village, the birthplace of Harvey Firestone:
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The Firestone Farm was originally built by Peter Firestone in 1828 in Columbiana, Ohio. This farmhouse, as it stands now in Greenfield Village, is a living history re-creation of life on a farm of the 1880's in Eastern Ohio, and has been restored to look as it did in 1882, when Harvey's parents remodeled the house to give it a more modern look. |
As we head toward the farm we notice a sort of horse shelter:
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| These horses are well-cared for, and the farmers are there, whether open or close to the public or if there is inclement weather. Or even if it's Christmas Day. |
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| Perhaps the sheep get a little extra to eat on this holiday? |
According to the legend, Christ's birth occurred at exactly midnight. Inside the stable, the animals watched in wonder as the newborn babe was lovingly wrapped in swaddling clothes and placed in a manger. Suddenly, God gave the animals voices and immediately they began to praise Him for the miracle they had just seen.
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| In the barn they're all saying, "Where's my present? Do we get extra fodder today?" |
Meanwhile, inside Firestone...
And with their chores complete, let the Firestone Christmas celebration begin!
Firestone Farm used to be decorated for an 1880s Christmas when Greenfield Village was open during daytime hours on weekends in December. Once it closed up at the end of November due to lack of visitors (they say) on those cold December Weekends - as well as the growing popularity of Holiday Nights - the Firestone decorating sadly ended.
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| The Firestones celebrating Christmas by play carols on the pump organ. So, what do you see under the Firestone Farm Christmas Tree from the mid-1880s? Anything your children or grandchildren may want? At this time, using an American flag in this manner was considered very patriotic. ~I took these photo inside the house about twenty years ago when Firestone Farm House used to be decorated for Christmas~ |
As someone once explained: "You can't apply modern ideas and notions to 19th Century behaviors. The idea that the flag cannot touch the ground and other ideas of reverence towards it did not exist in the 19th Century. There are numerous photos of Color Bearers from the Civil War with the flag draping on the ground
Using the flag as a tree skirt may not be considered to be in good taste today, but attitudes were different in the 19th Century and the museum does a great job at portraying those differences."
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| A blazing fire in the sitting room hearth as stockings were hung by the chimney with care. |
The following, from Chapter 26 of the wonderful book Farmer Boy by Laura Ingalls Wilder, aptly - very aptly - describes Christmas from close to the time the Firestone Farm represents, and I believe all reading this will benefit from the following:
Christmas Eve:
For a long time it seemed that Christmas would never come. On Christmas, Uncle Andrew and Aunt Delia, Uncle Wesley and Aunt Lindy, and all the cousins were coming to dinner. It would be the best dinner of the whole year. And a good boy might get something in his stocking. Bad boys found nothing but switches in their stockings on Christmas morning, Almanzo tried to be good for so long that he could hardly stand the strain.
The girls were cleaning the whole house, and Mother was baking. Royal helped Father with the threshing, but Almanzo had to help in the house. He remembered the switch, and tried to be willing and cheerful.
He had to scour the steel knives and forks, and polish the silver. He had to wear an apron around his neck. He took the scouring-brick and scraped a pile of red dust off it, and then with a wet cloth he rubbed the dust up and down on the knives and forks.
The kitchen was full of delicious smells. Newly baked bread was cooling, frosted cakes and cookies and mince pies and pumpkin pies filled the pantry shelves, cranberries bubbled on the stove. Mother was making dressing for the goose.
Then he had to run to the attic for sage; he had to run down cellar for apples, and upstairs again for onions. He filled the woodbox. He hurried in the cold to fetch water from the pump. He thought maybe he was through, then, anyway for a minute. But no; he had to polish the dining-room side of the stove.
“Do the parlor side yourself, Eliza Jane,” Mother said. “Almanzo might spill the blacking.”
That night everyone was tired, and the house was so clean and neat that nobody dared touch anything. After supper Mother put the stuffed, fat goose and the little pig into the heater’s oven to roast slowly all night. Father set the dampers and wound the clock. Almanzo and Royal hung clean socks on the back of a chair, and Alice and Eliza Jane hung stockings on the back of another chair. Then they all took candles and went to bed.
It was still dark when Almanzo woke up. He felt excited, and then he remembered that this was Christmas morning. He jerked back the covers and jumped onto something alive that squirmed. It was Royal. He had forgotten that Royal was there, but he scrambled over him, yelling:
“Christmas! Christmas! Merry Christmas!”
He pulled his trousers over his nightshirt. Royal jumped out of bed and lighted the candle. Almanzo grabbed the candle, and Royal shouted: “Hi! Leave that be! Where’s my pants?” But Almanzo was already running downstairs. Alice and Eliza Jane were flying from their room, but Almanzo beat them. He saw his sock hanging all lumpy; he set down the candle and grabbed his sock. The first thing he pulled out was a cap, a boughten cap!
The plaid cloth was machine-woven. So was the lining. Even the sewing was machine-sewing. And the ear-muffs were buttoned over the top. Almanzo yelled. He had not even hoped for such a cap. He looked at it, inside and out; he felt the cloth and the sleek lining. He put the cap on his head. It was a little large, because he was growing. So he could wear it a long time.
Eliza Jane and Alice were digging into their stockings and squealing, and Royal had a silk muffler. Almanzo thrust his hand into his sock again, and pulled out a nickel’s worth of horehound candy. He bit off the end of one stick. The outside melted like maple sugar, but the inside was hard and could be sucked for hours.
Then he pulled out a new pair of mittens. Mother had knit the wrists and backs in a fancy stitch. He pulled out an orange, and he pulled out a little package of dried figs. And he thought that was all. He thought no boy ever had a better Christmas.
But in the toe of the sock there was still something more. It was small and thin and hard. Almanzo couldn’t imagine what it was. He pulled it out, and it was a jack-knife. It had four blades. Almanzo yelled and yelled. He snapped all the blades open, sharp and shining, and he yelled, “Alice, look! Look, Royal! Lookee, lookee my jack-knife! Lookee my cap!”
Father’s voice came out of the dark bedroom and said:
“Look at the clock.”
They all looked at one another. Then Royal held up the candle and they looked at the tall clock. Its hands pointed to half past three. Even Eliza Jane did not know what to do. They had waked up Father and Mother, an hour and a half before time to get up.
“What time is it?” Father asked.
Almanzo looked at Royal. Royal and Almanzo looked at Eliza Jane. Eliza Jane swallowed, and opened her mouth, but Alice said:
“Merry Christmas, Father! Merry Christmas, Mother! It’s—it’s—thirty minutes to four, Father.”
The clock said, “Tick! Tock! Tick! Tock! Tick!” Then Father chuckled.
Royal opened the dampers of the heater, and Eliza Jane stirred up the kitchen fire and put the kettle on. The house was warm and cozy when Father and Mother got up, and they had a whole hour to spare. There was time to enjoy the presents.
Alice had a gold locket, and Eliza Jane had a pair of garnet earrings. Mother had knitted new lace collars and black lace mitts for them both. Royal had the silk muffler and a fine leather wallet. But Almanzo thought he had the best presents of all. It was a wonderful Christmas.
Then Mother began to hurry, and to hurry everyone else. There were the chores to do, the milk to skim, the new milk to strain and put away, breakfast to eat, vegetables to be peeled, and the whole house must be put in order and everybody dressed up before the company came.
The sun rushed up the sky. Mother was everywhere, talking all the time, “Almanzo, wash your ears! Goodness mercy, Royal, don’t stand around underfoot! Eliza Jane, remember you’re paring those potatoes, not slicing them, and don’t leave so many eyes they can see to jump out of the pot. Count the silver, Alice, and piece it out with the steel knives and forks. The best bleached tablecloths are on the bottom shelf. Mercy on us, look at that clock!”
Sleigh-bells came jingling up the road, and Mother slammed the oven door and ran to change her apron and pin on her brooch; Alice ran downstairs and Eliza Jane ran upstairs, both of them told Almanzo to straighten his collar.
Father was calling Mother to fold his cravat. Then Uncle Wesley’s sleigh stopped with a last clash of bells.
Almanzo ran out, whooping, and Father and Mother came behind him, as calm as if they had never hurried in their lives. Frank and Fred and Abner and Mary tumbled out of the sleigh, all bundled up, and before Aunt Lindy had handed Mother the baby, Uncle Andrew’s sleigh was coming. The yard was full of boys and the house filled with hoopskirts. The uncles stamped snow off their boots and unwound their mufflers.
Royal and Cousin James drove the sleighs into the Buggy-House; they unhitched the horses and put them in stalls and rubbed down their snowy legs. Almanzo was wearing his boughten cap, and he showed the cousins his jack-knife. Frank’s cap was old now. He had a jack-knife, but it had only three blades.
Then Almanzo showed his cousins Star and Bright (horses), and the little bobsled, and he let them scratch Lucy’s fat white back with corncobs. He said they could look at Starlight if they’d be quiet and not scare him.
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| The Firestone Farm dining room table is all set for Christmas dinner. |
They all went into the kitchen and washed their hands. Mother and the aunts and the girl cousins were taking up the Christmas dinner. The dining-table had been turned around and pulled out till it was almost as long as the dining- room, and every inch of it was loaded with good things to eat.
Almanzo bowed his head and shut his eyes tight while Father said the blessing. It was a long blessing, because this was Christmas Day. But at last Almanzo could open his eyes. He sat and silently looked at that table.
He looked at the crisp, crackling little pig lying on the blue platter with an apple in its mouth. He looked at the fat roast goose, the drumsticks sticking up, and the edges of dressing curling out. The sound of Father’s knife sharpening on the whetstone made him even hungrier.
He looked at the big bowl of cranberry jelly, and at the fluffy mountain of mashed potatoes with melting butter trickling down it. He looked at the heap of mashed turnips, and the golden baked squash, and the pale fried parsnips.
He swallowed hard and tried not to look anymore. He couldn’t help seeing the fried apples ’n’ onions, and the candied carrots. He couldn’t help gazing at the triangles of pie, waiting by his plate; the spicy pumpkin pie, the melting cream pie, the rich, dark mince oozing from between the mince pie’s flaky trusts.
He squeezed his hands together between his knees. He had to sit silent and wait, but he felt aching and hollow inside.
All grown-ups at the head of the table must be served first. They were passing their plates, and talking, and heartlessly laughing. The tender pork fell away in slices under Father’s carving-knife. The white breast of the goose went piece by piece from the bare breast-bone. Spoons ate up the clear cranberry jelly, and gouged deep into the mashed potatoes, and ladled away the brown gravies.
Almanzo had to wait to the very last. He was youngest of all, except Abner and the babies, and Abner was company.
At last Almanzo’s plate was filled. The first taste made a pleasant feeling inside him, and it grew and grew, while he ate and ate and ate. He ate till he could eat no more, and he felt very good inside. For a while he slowly nibbled bits from his second piece of fruitcake. Then he put the fruity slice in his pocket and went out to play.
Almanzo got up on his knees, and he saw Mother in the doorway of the house. She called: “Boys! Boys! Stop playing now. It’s time to come in and warm.”
They were warm. They were hot and panting. But Mother and the aunts thought the cousins must get warm before they rode home in the cold. They all went tramping in, covered with snow, and Mother held up her hands and exclaimed: “Mercy on us!”
The grown-ups were in the parlor, but the boys had to stay in the dining- room, so they wouldn’t melt on the parlor carpet. They couldn’t sit down, because the chairs were covered with blankets and lap robes, warming by the heater. But they ate apples and drank cider, standing around, and Almanzo and Abner went into the pantry and ate bits off the platters.
Then uncles and aunts and the girl cousins put on their wraps, and they brought the sleeping babies from the bedroom, rolled up in shawls. The sleighs came jingling from the barn, and Father and Mother helped tuck in the blankets and lap robes, over the hoopskirts. Everybody called: “Good-by! Good-by!”
The music of the sleigh-bells came back for a little while; then it was gone.
Christmas was over.
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| Another late 19th or early 20th century "Merry Christmas" poster hanging in town. |
Tom took this next photo a few Christmas's ago:
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| A merry sight indeed! |
A heartfelt thanks to Mr. Kemper for taking the time to walk around the empty Village to snap a few wonderful pictures. In fact, unless otherwise noted, all outdoor pictures here came from his camera. Looking at these scenes certainly gives me the feeling that I was there as well, hearing the crunching of my boots while walking through the snow, nary a sound to be heard as all the celebrants of the past were locked up tight inside these old homes, celebrating this Christmas Day.
Merry Christmas~
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| I agree with Tom when he wrote about how sad a Christmas Tree lot stand looked on Christmas Day... |
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