Born and raised in Mobile, I had a unique childhood. How many kids grew up watching ships in the bay and military planes at Brookley Field, all while playing on the beach in front of their house? As idyllic as that was, the most exciting time of year was when we travelled to my dad’s family home outside Boaz.
My grandfather’s farm was a magical place, especially at Christmas. The warmth that enveloped you as you entered the house was from a mixture of propane space heaters, an original fireplace, and the loving embrace of affectionate grandparents who remarked on how much I had grown since our previous visit.
Having survived the influenza pandemic and very hard times during the Great Depression, Maw and Paw Cash lived simply. Preparing the house for Christmas consisted of putting up a Christmas tree—selected by Paw from the woods adjacent to his farm. Illuminated by a single string of multicolored lights with the giant bulbs, and finished with some glass balls and silver tinsel, it frequently resembled Charlie Brown’s selection before the Peanuts gang raided Snoopy’s doghouse. There were no stockings, no garland, no mini villages or other decorations brought out for the occasion—just the tree. In my eyes it fit perfectly…