When I was a child I celebrated Christmas the same way children celebrate today. I demanded the most expensive gifts, never clothes, and if I didn’t get what I wanted I threw a fit.
After years of hearing my dad tell of how Christmas was when he was a kid, I finally woke up and listened.
Dad lived in the country, down a dirt road, in Stephensburg. My Mamaw and Papaw were poor as a pluck-feathered hen. Papaw worked in the rock quarry down the road and Mamaw stayed home, raising eight kids in a two-bedroom house on a piece of land they called their home.