It Happened One Christmas

Traditions characterize Christmas. One year the Moxley family decided to grill steaks. It was a rainy afternoon as Mr. Moxley and I started an open pit fire. Mr. Moxley had filled the pit with hickory kindling.

I held an umbrella over us as he soaked the wet kindling with charcoal lighter fluid. It took a while, but we finally grilled the ribeye steaks. They sure made a great meal for
Christmas.

One Christmas momma cooked a special breakfast and invited my brother’s girlfriend’s family. His girlfriend’s dad was a pastor that rode songs. Country music artist Charley Pride recorded one. He and momma played guitars and we had a Christmas sing-a-long.

It was the first Christmas for my eldest son Andy. Being the first grandson, he received an abundance of gifts. His greatest joy was a large box that we used for the waste gift paper from the gifts. I put Andy over in the box and he was one happy boy playing in the paper. It was a wonder feeling seeing him enjoy the paper.

Another Christmas I made my daughter Angel a cradle for her baby doll. I had fun building and Angel was my helper. I told her that Santa wanted me to build it for a special little girl. He helped me and said she would like one too. I will never forget the joy on her face as she found her baby doll in the cradle under the tree that Christmas morning. I smile each time I remember seeing her in the cradle.

The Christmas morning that daddy found a “rabbit eared” twenty gauge shotgun under the tree was fun. He had wanted one for years. Momma found an electric guitar under the same tree. My sister Diane found a beauty salon hairdryer. My brother David found a cassette player and brother Glenn found him a guitar. I thanked God that I was able to make it a memorable Christmas.

For my first Christmas with my wife Lisa I had purchased an electric console fireplace. Part of the joy was watching her assembly it. She loves to assemble things. She loves to watch the fake burning logs especially during the Christmas holidays. She says that there is something romantic about a fireplace.

Another tradition for the Hopper family is Christmas sad. Dad usually experienced layoff. We called dad Scrooge because he did not like Christmas. Things from Christmas past tarnished the bright glow that the season brought. He said that Christmas was about Jesus and not all the hoopla that promoted buy, buy, buy.

Momma was a trooper at Christmas. She decorated a cedar tree like it was a Madison Avenue Douglas fir. She would buy Christmas on credit and spend the whole new year paying off the debt. The aroma of cooking a gigantic Christmas meal filled the air as did her singing.

Christmas sadness filled the air when layoff Scrooge collided with good housekeeping Belle. In the Hopper Christmas Carol, Scrooge and Belle married. There would many Christmas’s present where there were no presents. Dad would be Bob Cratchit at times, and the world of the Hopper family would be at peace.

Unfortunately, something would happen and the Grinch would tear up a washing machine, blow out a tire, burn out a dyer, break a washing machine belt. Grinch got one of my tires just the other day.

My heart goes out for the unfortunates of Christmas. Madison Avenue has created something that suffocates the real spirit of Christmas. I remember one time on the streets of Clanton, Alabama, a couple fighting over Christmas. They had run out of money. Their children were crying, people were staring, and my heart was breaking.

I thought about the times when our stocking were empty. Though empty when Christmas morning arrived our house celebrated love. Dad could not help his layoff and things tear up, but mom’s never give up attitude helped to make the season merry and bright. Because in the end is about Jesus/Love.

 

And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men. Luke 2:12-14

Hoppers and Yankees

 In 2012, the extended Hopper family spent New Year’s Eve celebrating our Christmas.  This year it was my turn to host the extravaganza because there are five of us, we all take turns hosting Christmas. This year I decided to host it at our home in Chilton County rather than in Linden. 

There were a couple of reasons for the location change.  One is that we all have homes in the Chilton/Bibb county area even though one brother lives in Robertsdale and I in Linden.

Second, I did not know if Marengo County or the City of Linden could endure more than three Hoppers.  Third, my home/farm has enough room for frying fish, shrimp, and oysters, riding four wheelers, shooting fireworks, and parking cars.

It is hard to imagine that Mom and Dad started what has become a large extended family.  I watched in wonder as my nephew’s little boy Mason explored my backyard.  The wonder was not his exploration, but his importance.  Mason is the first male Hopper great grandchild.  He is not the first great grandchild or the first great grandchild male, but he is the first Hopper male.  As I held Mason in my arms, it was a defining moment.  The oldest male Hopper, holding the heir to the Hopper name.  A baby of the 1950’s was holding a new millennium baby.  The new replacing the old.  The thought of one who is in the final stages of his time is now holding the one who has yet to make a complete sentence.  What made the whole episode special was as I held Mason he wanted a drink of my root beer.  I gave him a sip and he confiscated my whole cup.  He teased me by giving it back only to want another sip.  As I put him down, he walked away with my root beer.

That is the way of life, new replacing the old.  With that thought, I can’t help but think of a humorous incident that happened on Tuesday before New Year Eve.

We had a rendezvous with friends from Llano, Texas at Gulf shores after Christmas.  Our rendezvous point was the Waffle House in Gulf Shores.  I don’t particularly care for the Gulf, but winter makes it nice.  It’s not too hot, the shore is deserted, and the restaurants are very available.

It is always terrific to see our friends, so we gathered at the tables beside the high bar.  For those who do not know, booths are not made for real men.  Every restaurant where we went in Gulf Shores, I requested a table.  I want to be conformable when I eat.  I usually eat at the high bar at Waffle House, but when with more than three friends, I try to eat at a table for collective talking.

While there, Waffle House began to fill with snowbirds, which are Yankees or people from “Up North.”  I do not know why, but for some reason people from “Up North” enjoy Southern hospitality, but they have never acquired any for themselves.

After enjoying a wonderful breakfast and catching up how everybody was doing and the adventures of traveling, I decided to pay the bill for breakfast.  I learned a long time ago in Union work that the meal to buy everyone is breakfast.  Dinner and supper are more expensive.

Everyone continued to share old times and drink coffee, water, or orange juice.  As I waited for the waitress, I noticed that a snowbird roosted in my sit.  Now mind you, I was not finished with my coffee.  The snowbird sat down between my son Aaron and our friend Ruby.  Mrs. Ruby, my dear friend from Llano, did not know that I had gone to pay the bill.  From the corner of her eye, she saw a glass of water sliding toward her plate.  She was startled when she turned to see a strange snowbird in my place.  To Aaron’s right, a female snowbird sat in an empty seat.  Another snowbird, with his hands on the back of the chair, stood over Aaron.  You talk about an awkward moment.  I have had some very interesting visits to the Waffle House, but his one takes the cake, or I guess you could say takes the waffle.  I am glad that Aaron is a gentle giant and has a soft spot for people “who don’t know no better” or there may have been an injured snowbird in the Waffle House.

As Aaron looked up at the snowbird, the snowbird asked if the seat was warm.  I know snowbirds come South to escape harsh winters, but taking a young man’s, and his dad’s, seat is RUDE.  Scaring an eighty-year-old woman from Llano is dim-witted.  The moral of the story is that there is always someone waiting to take your place whether you are finished or not.  If we live long enough we will see many more New Years.

 Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new (Second Corinthians 5:17 KJV).

. And he that sat upon the throne said, Behold, I make all things new (Revelation 21:5 KJV).

Since 2012 Mason has been joined by a brother Gavin, a cousin Clark, and a cousin coming in the spring named Jesse James Hopper.  Long live the Hoppers.  We do have cousins in Illinois and my brother David was born in Wisconsin.

That First Christmas

Christmas is a costly time.  It cost God everything.  When all the hoopla, all the sales, all the parties, and all the family are gone, Christmas becomes memory.  My memories about Christmas are different from most people.  The Hopper Christmas was not about presents, but about time together, momma’s cooking, daddy’s being Scrooge, and no school.

I do not remember my first Christmas.  I was twelve days old.  The first Christmas I remember was when I was four.  It was cold, snow flurries, and the wind was blowing as daddy too me to the Bijou, an old movie house.  Every time I watch It’s A Wonder Life, I have a flashback to the Bijou.  If you remember George Bailey (Jimmy Stewart) running down the street in the snow yelling at the Bijou.  It was my first encounter with The Three Stooges, pizza, and salami.  It was in Beloit, Illinois/Wisconsin. 

Beloit was on the state line.  Dad worked in Wisconsin and we lived a few blocks away in Illinois.  No, I am not a Yankee, I was born in Clanton, but when we moved daddy worked at the Beloit Iron Works.  My brother David is the Yankee and now you know why I saw snow.  I walked to school in the snow, had a snowsuit, had snow gloves, and snow boots.

After the Three Stooges movie, each boy and girl received a Christmas present.  I never had seen that many presents before.  It was the first time I remember seeing a Santa Claus and he was very intimidating for a shy, small Alabama boy.  Each boy and girl sat on Santa’s knee to get his or her presents.  My first encounter was quick.  I did not know what to make of a man in a red suit with a long white hair and a beard.

The fact was that each of the employees of Beloit Iron Works contributed money to the company which bought each boy and each girl presents.  I did not know any better.  I was unfamiliar with the whole Santa Claus thing.

When we moved back to the poverty of Alabama, Christmas was never the same.  In rural Chilton County, there was no Bijou, no pizza, and no salami.  It would be years before I saw the Three Stooges.  I would be out of high school before a Pasquales’ Pizza would open thirty miles from home and stores would sell salami.

Each Christmas dad would be on layoff, Christmas shutdown, or unemployed.  There would be no money for food, much less for presents.  We stopped going to visit cousins. They got lots of neat things that we were not allowed to touch.  Aunts and uncles instructed our cousins to hide their toys until the Hoppers left.

Mom and dad stayed on edge during Christmas.  Mom wanted to decorate the house and dad would get depressed and start acting worse than Scrooge.  Even though not a Christian, he would say that Christmas is about the birth of God’s son, not about all the hoopla that people make it to be.

Every year something always made Christmas hoopla diminish.  During the Christmas season, I have repaired a slipping transmission, replaced a blowout tire, replaced a broken fuel pump, and replaced deteriorated disc brake pads.  At other times, things would happen like the dyer element burning out, the pickup engine blowing up, and the well pump going bad.

There would be the unexpected hospital stay for cancer that would days later take mom’s life.  There would Christmas Day emergency room visit for stitches to my son Aaron’s mouth where he tried to run through a barbed wire fence.  Trips to therapy for a bulging disc caused from the stress of layoff, mother dying with cancer, no insurance, and college tuition for upcoming term due.

The first Christmas without dad was tough and the first one without mom was real tough.  The first Christmas with my oldest son Andy was exciting.  He was almost a year old and was happy playing in a box of Christmas paper.  The one with my daughter Angela was challenging.  She was three months old and had colic.  The one with Aaron was special.  He was seven months old and was fun to watch.

One Christmas after graduating high school I bought dad a unique shotgun, a collector’s item the first year he owned it, mom an electric guitar, my sister a beauty salon style hairdryer that looked like a giant hornet nest, one brother a cassette player, and the other brother a starter guitar.

When imagining Joseph and Mary’s first Christmas, today’s hoopla misses the point.

And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.  And it came to pass, as the angels were gone away from them into heaven, the shepherds said one to another, Let us now go even unto Bethlehem, and see this thing which is come to pass, which the Lord hath made known unto us.  And they came with haste, and found Mary, and Joseph, and the babe lying in a manger (Luke 2:13-16 KJV)

Christmas Cost God Everything

Christmas is a costly time.  It cost God everything.  When all the hoopla, all the sales, all the parties, and all the family are gone, Christmas becomes memory.  My memories about Christmas are different from most people.  The Hopper Christmas was not about presents, but about time together, momma’s cooking, daddy’s being Scrooge, and no school.

I do not remember my first Christmas.  I was twelve days old.  The first Christmas I remember was when I was four or five years old.  It was cold, snow flurries, and the wind was blowing as daddy took me to the Bijou, an old movie house.  Every time I watch It’s A Wonder Life, I have a flashback to the Bijou.  If you remember George Bailey (Jimmy Stewart) running down the street in the snow yelling at the Bijou.  It was my first encounter with The Three Stooges, pizza, and salami.  It was in Beloit, Illinois/Wisconsin. 

Beloit was on the state line.  Dad worked in Wisconsin and we lived a few blocks away in Illinois.  No, I am not a Yankee, I was born in Clanton, Alabama, but we moved and daddy worked at the Beloit Iron Works.  My brother David is the Yankee and now you know why I saw snow.  I walked to school in the snow, had a snowsuit, had snow gloves, and snow boots.

After the Three Stooges movie, each boy and girl received a Christmas present.  I never had seen that many presents before.  It was the first time I remember seeing a Santa Claus and he was very intimidating for a shy, small Alabama boy.  Each boy and girl sat on Santa’s knee to get his or her presents.  My first encounter was quick.  I did not know what to make of a man in a red suit with  long white hair and a beard.

The fact was that each of the employees of Beloit Iron Works contributed money to the company which bought each boy and each girl presents.  I did not know any better.  I was unfamiliar with the whole Santa Claus thing.

When we moved back to the poverty of Alabama, Christmas was never the same.  In rural Chilton County, there was no Bijou, no pizza, and no salami.  It would be years before I saw the Three Stooges.  I would be out of high school before a Pasquales’ Pizza would open thirty miles from home and stores would sell salami.

Each Christmas dad would be on layoff, Christmas shutdown, or unemployed.  There would be no money for food, much less for presents.  We stopped going to visit cousins. They got lots of neat things that we were not allowed to touch.  Aunts and uncles instructed our cousins to hide their toys until the Hoppers left.

Mom and dad stayed on edge during Christmas.  Mom wanted to decorate the house and dad would get depressed and start acting worse than Scrooge.  Even though not a Christian, he would say that Christmas is about the birth of God’s son, not about all the hoopla that people make it to be.

Every year something always made Christmas hoopla diminish.  During the Christmas season, I have repaired a slipping transmission, replaced a blowout tire, replaced a broken fuel pump, and replaced deteriorated disc brake pads.  At other times, things would happen like the dryer element burning out, the pickup engine blowing up, and the well pump going bad.

There would be the unexpected hospital stay for cancer that would days later take mom’s life.  There would be Christmas Day emergency room visit for stitches to my son Aaron’s mouth where he tried to run through a barbed wire fence.  Trips to therapy for a bulging disc caused from the stress of layoff, mother dying with cancer, wife pregnant with no insurance, and college tuition for upcoming term due.

The first Christmas without dad was tough and the first one without mom was real tough.  The first Christmas with my oldest son Andy was exciting.  He was almost a year old and was happy playing in a box of Christmas paper.  The one with my daughter Angela was challenging.  She was three months old and had colic.  The one with Aaron was special.  He was seven months old and was fun to watch.

My first Christmas as a married man,  I bought dad a unique shotgun, a collector’s item the first year he owned it, mom an electric guitar, my sister a beauty salon style hairdryer that looked like a giant hornet nest, one brother a cassette player, and the other brother a starter guitar.

When I imagine Joseph and Mary’s first Christmas, today’s hoopla misses the point.

And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.  And it came to pass, as the angels were gone away from them into heaven, the shepherds said one to another, Let us now go even unto Bethlehem, and see this thing which is come to pass, which the Lord hath made known unto us.  And they came with haste, and found Mary, and Joseph, and the babe lying in a manger (Luke 2:13-16 KJV)