The Christmas Ornaments (reprinted)
Mystery gift from afar
It was an unexpected arrival – and as I strolled back from
the mailbox I was full of anticipation at the surprise package from my father.
Small, the size of a box full of checks, what on earth could this possibly
contain – and why? It was between holidays – right after Thanksgiving and
enough “before Christmas” not to be a Christmas gift. I smiled with delight.
Packages from home and my parents were always fun. And in this case, somewhat
mysterious, given the timing.
In the house, I carefully cut through the layers of clear
packing tape that encased the box. As I lifted the lid off, there was a note
labelled in my father’s unmistakable handwriting: Care Package. Like any kid
with a new toy, I laid the note aside (the adult kid did this very carefully)
and then I just stared at the contents.
I took another look. Jumbled together in the bottom of the
box were not quite a dozen crumpled red and silver foil balls, some with narrow
wire sticking from them and others - with a stem? Wait now. Also in the bottom
of the box were a couple of brown spiky balls with – yes - stems on them. And
then I pulled the name from my memory – Sweetgum balls!! But what were these
other objects?
A note!
Now I grabbed the note and began to read:
“Hi Alexis!
These are Depression Era Christmas Tree Decorations about
which I learned in 2nd or 3rd grade.
Teach had us bring Sweet Gum Balls & foil from gum and
Cigarette pkg Wrappers. Clever-What? Thought you might like this line to
history in Tenn Hill Craft. Love you – Daddy”
Backstory
Two years before in 2000, I had called my father and asked
him to meet me in East Tennessee in the fall. I wanted to get re-acquainted
with his older brother Leonard and other family members and have Uncle Leonard
and Daddy show me the places of their youth and our family. Daddy and my mother
flew in and met me at the Nashville Airport and we drove over the Cumberland
Plateau down into the Clinch River area where Daddy’s family has lived for over
200 years. Heady stuff for me. And my parents, who really could give a fig
about genealogy per se, seemed to enjoy it as much as I did.
We searched on foot for an “old Hacker cemetery” in an area
that had been off limits since the WWII Manhattan Project, drove the Big
Mountain Road to see where my grandfather’s leased coal mine was (and got very
uneasy as we eased by a farm raising gaming cocks), met new and old cousins. We
pushed Uncle Leonard with his walker up the backside of Dyllis Cemetery at
sundown and crawled along a row of old family graves with a flashlight in the
dark to verify grave placements. We drove the Sugar Grove Valley road out to
where I thought my 3rd gggrandfather Joseph Hacker’s farm had been (I was
right), found my Dad’s grandfather Mayton’s old driveway, and listened to
Daddy, Leonard and cousin Gillis Morgan talk about “those days”. I also found
out why their grandfather Joe H. Hacker was buried at Dyllis Cemetery after
dying in Morgan County (the answer: Because he wanted to be buried near the
others from his Civil War regiment) and why everyone carried guns in those
days. We had a time to remember.
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| Leonard, Alexis and Alex Hacker |
As I looked down at the box of “decorations”, I realized
that my father may not have cared about genealogy like I do; but he recognized
my desire to know where we came from and to hear the stories that influenced
us. He had had a blast following up leads on our trip. Now he was giving me a
gift of himself and of history, which was one of his interests, and I loved him
for it.
A quick phone call yielded more information. My father had
never had a Christmas tree before that year. But his teacher had brought one to
class and showed them how to make a stand from two cross pieces of wood. My
father, who learned early how to be ingenious, couldn’t interest anyone at home
in a tree – so he went into the wood, cut one down, dragged it home and put it
up himself – along with some of these homemade ornament.
The box of ornaments now is one of my most precious gifts. Every year when I
start to hang the Sweetgum ornaments on the tree, I think of a gangly
red-haired boy with a mile-wide smile in Depression East Tennessee, a boy who
delighted in Christmas and passed that delight along to his family in future
years. He made sure we had a tree and something under it – he made jams and
jellies and special wooden gifts to give away to friends and family; created
special decorations in his workshop; made sourdough bread and hard rolls,
served up the best eggnog with a kick, and had the Christmas music playing in
the background.
Merry Christmas!
In the spirit of that Depression Christmas past and my
inimitable father, I wish you delight in the Christmas season and in your
friends and family (whether blood or not). Blessings on you all and happy
genealogy hunting.
- Alexis
Copyright 2020
Reprinted 2025 by permission of Alexis Hacker Booker
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