The Farm, 1958 Photo by David Porterfield
In my family, we come in a series of two.
My dad has only one brother; my mother has only one sister.
Likewise, I have only one sister, and my husband has one sister. My husband and I, in turn, have only two children (a boy and a girl), and my sister and her husband have two children.
My aunt (my mother’s sister) has two children...
I could go on, but I’m guessing you’re getting the picture.
Therefore, for my father’s brother to have six children was wonderfully, dynamically, in-your-face out of the box for an extended family which seemed (still seems) incredibly careful in the creation of offspring.
When we were at the farm on holidays, and my cousins were around…there was always something to dream up.
Though I think my sister and I were a bit like curiosities for our cousins…and I’m positive they were positive we were spoiled (How could we not be with only the two of us?). Yet they seemed to love us and treat us as compatriots whenever we were together.
Furthermore, at Christmastime…in West Texas…the weather could sometimes be extreme, so all eight of us might be kept inside the fairly small house…contributing to our desire to conjure up inventive activities.
We would oftentimes set up clubhouses in two walk-in cedar closets in the spare bedrooms…I think I was usually in one closet with my cousin Ruth (and maybe Steve or John), and my sister Lisa would be in another clubhouse with Ann (and maybe Jim if he didn’t feel too grown-up)…Tom would’ve never been involved in such shenanigans.
And however un-inspirational you might find a closet…for us…it could work magic. After quickly becoming reacquainted and trying to send the other club a secret message through the cedar-lined walls, we might admittedly be at a short loss of resources. But never fear…because when you have nothing better to do…your sister and your oldest cousin, Ann, can decide we need to have a style show.
One year in particular, they (miraculously) convinced Tom to dress up in what one might consider the height of hunting fashion--complete with a real gun. Unfortunately, when Tom sauntered down the ‘runway’ wearing what every well-dressed hunter should’ve been sporting that season (with the gun propped on his shoulder) my grandpa became a little concerned. It seemed no matter which direction Tom turned…he was pointing the gun at someone in the audience. My cousin, Steve, says there was much ‘hollerin’’ until the correct position for safe gun handling was achieved.
I’m sure Steve’s right.
I’m also sure one of the adults had checked the gun to make sure it was unloaded before allowing us to use it as a prop.
According to Steve and Lisa, we would (somewhat) plunder the house and (very much) plunder our own possessions for anything which might contribute to the outfits being modeled. Detail was important. They recall something involving a Grecian toga, a housewife’s uniform complete with an apron from which all sorts of handy accoutrements dangled and my cousin, Jim, dressed as a preacher complete with tie, Bible and attitude.
Yes, we were dramatic…and in the more traditional Christmas sense as well. Every year we gathered we would reenact the nativity story from the book of Luke. Once again, we had to scrounge together whatever we could find in the house to complete our costumes.
Bathrobes figured prominently.
My cousin, John, as a shepherd (and I was replaced as Sheep 2)
Steve and Lisa recall whenever the bathrobes fell short, grandma would lend us sheets from the linen closet. Steve also remembers us using Christmas ribbon for the wise men sashes. One year someone constructed some sort of crown out of an egg carton.
I have to mention…the play parts were short with eight of us, so I’m pretty sure I was assigned to the role of Sheep 2 a few times.
Embarrassingly, I think someone pinned a cotton boll to my bottom at least once (This is what happens when you’re next to the youngest in a group of eight.).
After the stage lights were dimmed, we would crack open Monopoly.
I don’t remember much about these games other than they were killer, and…as one of the youngest…I usually lost. However, we would sometimes play as teams which benefitted me a little.
I’m telling you…my sister and cousins were a bunch of scary, business-y sharks…because traditional Monopoly rules were boring, so one capitalist would lend money to another…trades were made outside the normal way…and the game could go on for two or more days.
Usually, the winner would walk away with a tremendous pile by Monopoly standards…twenty or thirty thousand…and the lowest loser might be in debt by a proportionate amount.
We also played delirious rounds of Spoons…games ending in people being injured while trying to grab a spoon from the pile. And I think my cousin, Steve, might’ve been on the winning end once and instead of sneakily slipping a utensil from the group…grabbed the spoon and banged it loudly and repeatedly on the Formica surface as he brought it off the table.
Much chaos ensued.
Next…we had chores of course. Usually the girls were called into service to wash and dry the dishes…my grandparents never had a dishwasher. But, as we grew older, sometimes the boys would pitch in to help. By the way, my grandmother purchased CorningWare plates for the grandkids when we were younger--I’m sure she wanted to minimize accidents--but we still continued to use them into our teens. Once, Steve was helping us to wash the dishes and one of the CorningWare plates slipped out of his hand, flew across the room like a Frisbee and dented the refrigerator.
Speaking of delirious…one of the last times we were gathered at the farm for Christmas…my cousin, Jim, was attending what was then T.S.T.I. in Waco, and he drove to Dallas to caravan with our family out to the farm. When we arrived, his family was not there yet.
That evening…we were a bit bored…I guess we were getting older and were used to being more mobile…so we decided to drive to Petersburg (of all places) to look at Christmas lights. I think we were in my parent’s car, but I don't think they had an eight-track or cassette player, so our only option for music was the radio. Some West Texas station was playing ‘Feliz Navidad’…none of us were particularly excited about this song, but I guess we were tired…and silliness runs in the family (at least when we’re tired), and something unusually intoxicating happened while singing this unwanted Christmas carol and viewing the three red strands of lights gracing the Petersburg main street.
“Feliz Navidad, Feliz Navidad, Feliz Navidad, blah blah blah blah blah…blah felicidad, I WANNA WISH YOU A MERRY CHRISTMAS, I WANNA WISH YOU A MERRY CHRISTMAS, I WANNA WISH YOU A MERRY CHRISTMAS FROM THE BOTTOM OF MY HEAR-AR-AR-ART!!!! Feliz Navidad…”
I think you get the gist.
Somehow…the three red strands of light…the one and only Petersburg stoplight…some very humble homes strung with a few meager decorations…and this song…combined to create such hilarity for us that to this day…whenever the three of us hear the song, we think of the occasion.
I hate to end so abruptly, but my own Christmas preparations call. So I’ll end with a quick summarization.
Here it is:
Six + Two equaled much fun, laughter, silliness, inventiveness and (best of them all) Love at the farm.
The Love remains even now.
Six + Two