It was Christmas time, 42 years ago. And we, the Andersons, had
just arrived in my hometown of Enid, Okla., after our 1,400-mile
trip from Southern California.
It was Christmas time, 42 years ago. And we, the Andersons, had just arrived in my hometown of Enid, Okla., after our 1,400-mile trip from Southern California. My parents advised that an unseasonably warm December prevailed. Indeed, on an amazingly warm, balmy December day before Christmas, our miniature poodle, Charlie, somehow climbed through the upstairs bedroom window and jumped out on the roof over the bay windows of that white antebellum-like, ancestral home, where my parents lived. We had to coax Charlie back.
The next morning a surprise snow left some six inches that draped over all the roofs in Enid, preventing Charlie from climbing out, again.
The reason Charlie, our six children, their mother and me, had returned to Enid from California in 1962, was to christen our last child, 18 month old Tracy, in the First Methodist Church. All of our children had been christened there.
But, let me begin the story.
In 1962, I combined my company’s winter break with vacation time and accumulated several weeks off from work for this particular Christmas.
After work on Wednesday in the middle of December, a very warm day in Azusa, we loaded up the Ford station wagon for the journey. Actually, we looked like “Okies” as we strapped a large trunk, containing most of our clothes, to the car top.
Mother Joanne had packed our good clothes for the christening plus casual clothes for the trip as well as all the Christmas gifts.
As I drove, Joanne became the monitor, police, arbiter, judge and food dispenser to our children, who occupied the two back seats of our station wagon. Actually, I praised God for my simple chauffeur’s task.
Nevertheless, from that evening when we left, I drove 700 miles to Gallup, N.M. We arrived early Thursday morning. My cousin and her husband lived in Gallup and several times in our travels east to Oklahoma, we had stopped and I had recuperated after that 13- or 14-hour drive. Unfortunately, this time, being unannounced, we did not find them home.
Continuing on for another 140 miles to Albuquerque, we bought picnic food at a local grocery, and continued on old Highway 66. In the mountains east of Albuquerque, we had lunch at a turnout with picnic tables.
After lunch, we continued through New Mexico to Amarillo. In the evening, we traveled through Pampa and the Panhandle of Texas. (In these times, we rarely had money for motels to accommodate our large gang.) During the night somewhere in western Oklahoma, I started to see dams, brick walls and herds of buffalo crossing the road. After driving from the beginning of the trip, I began to hallucinate.
Finally, at dawn on Friday, I drove into the backyard of my parents’ home.
There, after some 30 hours and 1,400 miles or more on the road, I got to go to bed and to sleep. (At the time, I was a young 32.)
For Tracy’s christening, Joanne’s mother designed and fashioned a beautiful red velvet dress trimmed in hand-made tatting with green velvet ribbon.
That Sunday, at the First Methodist Church, Dr. Sturdevant christened our daughter.
On Tuesday, Christmas Day, we awakened to more snow. Together, our large family descended the stairs to the front room and the Christmas tree under which lay all the presents.
Afterwards, my dad pulled plastic bags onto all his grandchildren’s feet and led them around the snowy backyard, the snow depth reaching probably 7 or 8 inches. These Southern California children, who never had experienced snow, threw snowballs, fell in the snow and absolutely enjoyed themselves while Granddaddy urged them on.
Today our children are in their late 40s to mid-50s. But, that Christmas was a special time which they all remember. It was a time when our loving relationship with the grandparents became priceless and Charlie, our poodle, pranced on the roof.
