memories

Christmas Memories

December 23, 2020Tammy M CardwellLeave a comment

At church tonight, several people shared their favorite Christmas memories. Of course such things make me think, and I had an epiphany.

My two favorite memories are about getting “nothing.”

I don’t mean that literally, but close. The first was the Christmas after my mother left an abusive marriage. We had so little money that we had no Christmas decorations. On Christmas Eve, after my sister and I went to bed, Mother went to the tree lot and bought a little white-painted stick for next to nothing. Then she laid out our two small gifts each as if they’d come from Santa.

My dismay when I saw the “tree” on Christmas morning probably hurt Mother’s feelings, but the love I felt… We may not have gotten much, but we were grateful for what we got and were even more thankful for the fact that we were safe, secure, and together in our own home.

The other memory… I think I mentioned it here at some point. My favorite place to be, Christmas or not, was my grandparents’ home. They weren’t rich, but they made each of us feel like we were their favorite and always chose gifts they felt we would appreciate. That year my gifts were a pair of socks and a plastic dime store nativity scene snow globe. It spoke love to me, and still does today even though it was destroyed years ago.

As parents, we so often feel the need to produce for our children. Maybe, instead, we should take time to look at the memories that mean the most to us. I honestly remember very few gifts from my 58 Christmases, but I remember a skirt, a piece of candy, and a plastic snow globe – because they spoke of love.

Merry Christmas.

Celebrating Jesus!

Tammy C

Gone Tomorrow

April 17, 2015April 3, 2015Tammy M CardwellLeave a comment

Copyright Barry Hatch All rights reserved — Copyright Barry Hatch
All rights reserved

We were in the back of our Girl Scout leader’s car, on our way to a campout, when I overheard a girl with short, curly hair telling the story of the day years before when she had gotten her incredibly long hair cut off. As I heard the details, I popped up and interrupted her to ask if she remembered two girls watching. She did, and I informed her that I was one of those girls. RAM – Randomly, I instantly accessed a memory I’d totally forgotten. (And, just as randomly, is was the “Hare Today” title of a previous post that triggered this memory as well as inspiring today’s title.)

Mother was a hair stylist (We called them beauticians in those days.) until I was in Junior High and my parents started a business. As a result of her profession, Clarissa and I spent many hours in various salons. The day the girl came in with the longest hair I’d ever seen on a child (she could sit on it) and cut it SHORT really had burned itself into my hard drive. I may not access the information often, but it’s there.

I remember being appalled. I remember being astounded that she was so happy with her new ‘do.’ I remember being convinced that she would regret it forever.

How often, in life, are we able to get answers to our impossible questions? I mean, really? When I realized who she was, I had to know. Had she regretted it? Ever?

“Never!” she said with a smile.

No, it wasn’t one of the great questions of the universe, but it was satisfying to finally have it answered nonetheless. I love it when things like that happen!

Celebrating Jesus!
Tammy C

February 28, 2015April 3, 2015Tammy M Cardwell1 Comment

Memories are powerful things. My mother-in-love demanded that we not use our chosen girl’s name because of bad memories of a childhood not-friend. (Good thing we had a boy!) I refuse to even consider trying liver because of the clear memory of my stepmother trying to make me eat it as a kid. (Good thing Mother showed up!) Depending on their nature, memories can either hold us prisoner or free us – and they can be triggered by the simplest things.

The above photo took me instantly back to the best place on earth, my grandparents’ house on a country road halfway between Teague and Mexia (Texas). Granny always had this very plant and the hummingbirds that frequented it were her delight – mine too. In truth, I can hardly think about hummingbirds without thinking of her.

Memories of Granny lead me through rows of clean sheets hanging on the lines, past her in her sunbonnet picking peas, on to Grandaddy striding across the pasture with a faithful dog at his side. Then the dogs come out of memory’s hiding places. First there’s Shep, who I’m sure was named after Laura Ingalls Wilder’s dog; he was old, deaf, mostly blind, but such a lover. Then there come other dogs, not as distinct, until you get to Bouncer. Grandaddy considered naming him Battle Ax; thank God he listed to reason and accepted that any dog inclined to bounce on and off the porch like this one deserved only one name.

Bouncer is the last dog I remember. Grandaddy passed away and later, the very day I finished a leather collar for him in art class, we learned that Bouncer had been killed by a car. Granny never got another dog…I don’t think? I remember a conversation about how much traffic had increased on her road and what a danger it was to dogs. I don’t know… I was older then, and didn’t have as much time to spend up country, so I really don’t remember.

Even that thought triggers memories, though. When I was a child, you heard more wolves howling in the fields than cars driving down the road. I wonder…as much as the area has grown up…if those who live there now even hear the wolves anymore.

Memories are wonderful things. With them, we can get as close to time travel as we ever will in this life, stepping backwards in an instant to relive all we thought we’d left behind.

Celebrating Jesus!
Tammy C