The Gift Of An Orange

After my Sunday afternoon nap I usually go in search of a snack. Today I chose an orange and as I sat down on the couch in front of my Christmas tree, eating that orange reminded me of my mother. Allow me to explain.

1939

My mother, Shirley DeMumbrum, was born December 23, 1939 in rural Kentucky. She was raised in a little white farm house with her two brothers. My grandparents, Layne and Nettie, made sure their family had what they needed by growing their own food and livestock.

1939 was a time of unrest for the world. Overseas World War II had begun and Roosevelt submitted a $1,319-million defense budget. He proclaimed U.S. neutrality, and declared limited emergency. In his State of the Union Speech from that year you get a clear sense that he knew what was coming.

December 7th 1941, Pearl Harbor was bombed, my mother was about to turn two years old. Her early childhood took place during the war. My grandparents and others who lived then went from the Great Depression to war shortages and rationing. My grandmother frequently talked of trading meat with a neighbor for sugar coupons. My grandmother sewed my mother’s first dresses and they were made from feed sacks. That sounds horrible to us now, but they used what was available and they looked better than you think they would.

Actually my uncles wore the feed sack dresses too. The custom in those days was for babies to stay in dresses until they were older. There are lots of articles online about feed sack dresses. Feed Sacks: A Sustainable Fabric History describes it in great detail.

No Christmas Television Specials in 1939

There were no television Christmas Specials or dancing Hershey Kisses commercials, back then because there was no television. Television arrived later in the decade in most places, but took longer to get to rural Kentucky. Forties-era toys included the Slinky, Tonka trucks, and Silly Putty but none of those toys ever appeared beneath my grandparent’s tree. They couldn’t afford toys, but neither could most of their friends or neighbors.

What they could afford was an orange.

And that’s what my mother and her brothers usually got on Christmas morning. An orange and a few peppermint candies, and guess what? They were excited and thankful for those simple gifts.

2014

I never experienced a Christmas like my mother or father did. Because of what they didn’t have, they made sure my brother and I had more than our share of toys beneath our tree. My mother’s favorite hodliday was Christmas and she loved to shower others with gifts. When my husband and I gave her grandchildren she enjoyed spoiling them just as much as I love spoiling mine now.

Mom’s last Christmas was 1989. We have a video of that Christmas that I still have trouble watching. Colon cancer emaciated her and she was so weak she could hardly get up off the couch. But she still loved Christmas. Our children were small and the joy she got from watching them open their gifts that year is something I don’t need to watch a video to remember, it’s burned deeply in my heart.

A Simple Orange

All those thoughts and memories came from an orange. Never underestimate the power of something simple, especially when memories are involved.

Which brings me to something else I have been thinking about. Christmas is so very different for my generation and my children and grandchildren than it was for my parents and grandparents. It’s turned into a materialistic overload of the senses. We buy more. We do more. We go more places than previous generations ever did and instead of more…we could use a lot less.

Less stuff and more love. Less rush and more savoring the moment. Less spending and more giving.

Consider this….

There are so many people who will be spending Christmas or the holidays alone.

There are people who lost loved ones this year, whose heart is so heavy it feels unbearable.

There are those in nursing homes who never get visitors.

They don’t need a fancy gift with shiny paper and big bows. They need something simple. The gift of our time. Why not share some memories with them, and if you have one handy….take them an orange.