What's for Christmas Dinner?
(No turkey this year)
Screen 1 of 4Now that the 1979 Christmas is almost here, I am reminded of a very special Christmas our small family had back in the early 1920's--it must have been in 1923 or 1924, and it happened in Bowling Green, Kentucky.
It was the morning of Christmas Eve. My mother, my older brother, Will Gooch, and I were thinking about the next day. Christmas Day was always a big event in our lives, even though we were not able to give each other expensive gifts. Mother's very modest teaching salary saw to that. But we celebrated the day with much excitement and gratitude. And this particular Christmas was no exception. Each of us had bought and hidden away presents for the others. All of us had hoped we might have a turkey, but several days before, Mother had told Will Gooch and me that we just could not afford it this year. We would have chicken instead, she said. Our great aunt, Mrs. Emir Travelsted, who lived in the country near Woodburn, had brought us a live hen for the holidays, and it was now in a small, home-made chicken coop on our screened-in back porch.
"This hen will make for us a fine Christmas dinner," Mother said that morning. And of course Gooch and I knew it would, even though we had wanted a turkey.
"Tip and Thurman are goin to have turkey tomorrow," I told her. "I wish we could have one."
"Yea, Check," Gooch answered, "but they have large families. They need more food than we do."
"That's right," Mother agreed. "Now we'll have a nice dinner--plenty to eat. I'm making some cranberry sauce, dressing for the chicken, and mincemeat pie. And of course we'll have hoecake." (Hoecake is a Southern type of cornbread made of meal, hot water, and a pinch of salt. It is cooked on a thick and very hot metal baker over an open burner, after the baker has been greased lightly with lard or bacon grease.) "You remember, Mrs. Travelsted brought us some home- made mincemeat, and I want to use it in a pie."
Mrs. Travelsted, the one from near Woodburn, was always bringing us something nice, and we liked her very much. She would even surprise us sometimes by coming to our house and having our lunch ready for us when we would get home at noon from school.
"Now, Chester," Mother said as my brother and I were chopping the firewood for our small heating stove in the bedroom, "you must get back from your paper route this afternoon as soon as possible, so you can kill the chicken and help me pick and clean it."
"Aw, Mother, why do I have to'do the killing? I always have to do that. Why can't Gooch do it sometime?" I asked. With this, will Gooch was silent and I knew why.
"Now you know Will Gooch just doesn't like to kill anything . He's too kindhearted," Mother explained. I interrupted by saying, "you mean he's chicken-hearted!" but no one laughed.
"Let's do it this way," she continued. "You kill the chicken, Chester; then your brother will scald it and pick it clean; and I will dress it. How's that?"
"Oh, all right," I agreed. I was not happy with the arrangement, but I knew from the tone of her voice that the matter was settled. Further argument would have been useless.
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