December Gran'ma Gertie
Howdy Ya’ll!
I been sittin’ here lookin’ out my front window fer some of the young’uns. I know they should be gettin’ here any time. With Christmas just a couple of days away, and the gran’young’uns bein’ out of school, they all said they would try to get here. I shore hope they can all make it.
It’s times like these that I miss the young’uns bein’ little. Now I ain’t sayin’ I ain’t proud of my gran’young’uns, but it is a little differnt. Young’uns nowadays expect things a lot differnt than my young’uns did. They act like if’n they ain’t got the biggest tree, the most lights, and the most presents, they ain’t had Christmas!
Fer gifts, they expect them fancy computer games, batt’ry powered cars, and baby dolls that talk, walk, and do ever’thing a real baby does. The new styles fer clothes are jest plain crazy. Either the britches look like they belong on the fat man at the circus, or they try to make grown folks out of young’uns! My mama wouldn’t have let us go to a dawg fight in some of the stuff them young’uns is wearin’!
I think one of the craziest things I ever heard was them yama goochi key chain things. It was supposed to be some kind of a computer animal. The young’uns had to push a button to feed it, push a button to play with it, and push a button to make it do whatever it was supposed to do. If’n the young’un didn’t push all the right buttons, the thing died. How a made up animal is supposed to die is beyond me. All the young’uns wanted one of these things, but at the same time, not very many would take the time to feed the family dawg! What made it so bad was that all the mamas and daddies was fightin’ to buy one fer their young’un.
A few years ago, it was them home made lookin’ dolls. Them things were about as ugly as a doll could be. Some feller got the idea from an old gran’ma in north Georgia. He took it to the patent office I reckon, so the gran’ma cain’t make’em no more. That feller made the dolls, made all the clothes, built a hospital fer’em, and sold’em with a set of adoption papers. On the news, it showed people in the stores just a fightin’, kickin, and scratchin’ to get one. Some things are just plain foolish.
When did we ferget what Christmas was about? When did the presents wind up bein’ the most important thing? When did the rule about the one with the most toys, wins, get voted on? When did the price of somethin’ get to be more important than the thought behind it? When did Christmas become just another day fer a store to have a sale? When did it get to be so..., what do they call it? commercialized? Maybe the right question would be why.
Why have we let ourselves get trapped in to doin’ what the toy makers and clothin’ makers want us to do? Why have we let our young’uns ferget the real meanin’ of Christmas? Why don’t we put more meanin’ on our families than on the presents? What have we done? And what can we do about it?
Fer starters, quit spendin’ so much money on stuff that the young’uns is prob’ly gonna get tired of in a week. Quit fallin’ fer the same ol’ tricks the stores pull. Start spendin’ more time with the young’uns. Take an evenin’ and explain the real meanin’ of Christmas. Teach the young’uns how to make a tractor from an ol’ sewin’ thread spool and a rubber band. Show’em how to make a pea shooter out of wooden clothes pins. Take an evenin’ to string popcorn or make paper chains. Make your own tree decorations. Go outside and bring in some fresh pine tops. They always smell better than that stuff in a can. I could go on and on. There’s a lot we could do, if’n we jest would. We need to get back to the real Christmas way. The way it should’ve been all along.
I think I see some headlights on the road, so I better get up. I got a million things to do. I still got lots of cookin’ to do, and I’ve done gathered all my old beads and quilt scraps so me and the gran’young’uns can cover some styrerfoam balls to go on the tree. Gran’pa jest cut it this mornin’ and it shore has the front room smellin’ good! Between the Christmas tree and the cookies I made, the whole house smells good. I hope the young’uns will just remember that it smells like home. Have a Merry Christmas, Ya’ll!
‘Till next time,
Gran’ma Gertie
I been sittin’ here lookin’ out my front window fer some of the young’uns. I know they should be gettin’ here any time. With Christmas just a couple of days away, and the gran’young’uns bein’ out of school, they all said they would try to get here. I shore hope they can all make it.
It’s times like these that I miss the young’uns bein’ little. Now I ain’t sayin’ I ain’t proud of my gran’young’uns, but it is a little differnt. Young’uns nowadays expect things a lot differnt than my young’uns did. They act like if’n they ain’t got the biggest tree, the most lights, and the most presents, they ain’t had Christmas!
Fer gifts, they expect them fancy computer games, batt’ry powered cars, and baby dolls that talk, walk, and do ever’thing a real baby does. The new styles fer clothes are jest plain crazy. Either the britches look like they belong on the fat man at the circus, or they try to make grown folks out of young’uns! My mama wouldn’t have let us go to a dawg fight in some of the stuff them young’uns is wearin’!
I think one of the craziest things I ever heard was them yama goochi key chain things. It was supposed to be some kind of a computer animal. The young’uns had to push a button to feed it, push a button to play with it, and push a button to make it do whatever it was supposed to do. If’n the young’un didn’t push all the right buttons, the thing died. How a made up animal is supposed to die is beyond me. All the young’uns wanted one of these things, but at the same time, not very many would take the time to feed the family dawg! What made it so bad was that all the mamas and daddies was fightin’ to buy one fer their young’un.
A few years ago, it was them home made lookin’ dolls. Them things were about as ugly as a doll could be. Some feller got the idea from an old gran’ma in north Georgia. He took it to the patent office I reckon, so the gran’ma cain’t make’em no more. That feller made the dolls, made all the clothes, built a hospital fer’em, and sold’em with a set of adoption papers. On the news, it showed people in the stores just a fightin’, kickin, and scratchin’ to get one. Some things are just plain foolish.
When did we ferget what Christmas was about? When did the presents wind up bein’ the most important thing? When did the rule about the one with the most toys, wins, get voted on? When did the price of somethin’ get to be more important than the thought behind it? When did Christmas become just another day fer a store to have a sale? When did it get to be so..., what do they call it? commercialized? Maybe the right question would be why.
Why have we let ourselves get trapped in to doin’ what the toy makers and clothin’ makers want us to do? Why have we let our young’uns ferget the real meanin’ of Christmas? Why don’t we put more meanin’ on our families than on the presents? What have we done? And what can we do about it?
Fer starters, quit spendin’ so much money on stuff that the young’uns is prob’ly gonna get tired of in a week. Quit fallin’ fer the same ol’ tricks the stores pull. Start spendin’ more time with the young’uns. Take an evenin’ and explain the real meanin’ of Christmas. Teach the young’uns how to make a tractor from an ol’ sewin’ thread spool and a rubber band. Show’em how to make a pea shooter out of wooden clothes pins. Take an evenin’ to string popcorn or make paper chains. Make your own tree decorations. Go outside and bring in some fresh pine tops. They always smell better than that stuff in a can. I could go on and on. There’s a lot we could do, if’n we jest would. We need to get back to the real Christmas way. The way it should’ve been all along.
I think I see some headlights on the road, so I better get up. I got a million things to do. I still got lots of cookin’ to do, and I’ve done gathered all my old beads and quilt scraps so me and the gran’young’uns can cover some styrerfoam balls to go on the tree. Gran’pa jest cut it this mornin’ and it shore has the front room smellin’ good! Between the Christmas tree and the cookies I made, the whole house smells good. I hope the young’uns will just remember that it smells like home. Have a Merry Christmas, Ya’ll!
‘Till next time,
Gran’ma Gertie
posted by Dorothy Taylor @ 6:51 AM
+of+5-18-2009+006.jpg){kind=small}
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home