Now, wasn't that clever of me? I very carefully arranged this transcription of Elsie's Christmas Book to conclude during the Christmas season... and then forgot to schedule the publication date. So here it is, a week late, and after the conclusion of the Twelve Days of Christmas. Oops.
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| Fanciful image of a dragon playing Snap-dragon, from Robert Chambers' Book of Days (1879) The original uploader was Ziggurat at English Wikipedia., Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons |
Here he comes with flaming bowl,
Don't he mean to take his toll,
Snip! Snap! Dragon!
Although Elsie makes no mention of a rhyme, which she surely would have done had she remembered one, she does recall a game of snap dragon. This is a game with which I am familiar in only a literary sense; it is not commonly played in my part of the world. Knowing it as a game from Victorian England (although apparently it originated much earlier), I often wondered whether my Victorian English ancestors participated in it, and here Elsie gives me the answer to that question.
Our Christmas dinners were a lot like we have today, with the exception of plum pudding, mince pies, mince meat tarts. Mother used to make me a white cake with lemon filling and soft white frosting. I couldn't eat raisins for some reason and all her Christmas dessert had a lot of raisins. I still like that kind of white cake.
The turkey was always placed in front of Dad at the table. Always at the head. of the table., that was his seat always andevery day, of the week. We all were at the table together every meal, that we were home. Especially for dinner. Imagine eight at the table every day and most every meal. Thats what it was like after all Mothers children were grownup.
Dad would say a grace and give thanks for the day. He'd stand up with the craving knife an the steel to sharpen the knife. He would hold the knife in one hand and the steel in the other. He would rub them both together a few times and then he would start to carve the turkey. He was pretty good at it. I often wondered if the knife needed sharping every time.
He would ask us what part we wanted. White or dark. He usualy gave the drum stick. I never asked for it but he would say I know what part Sis wants and it was the drum stick. As I grow older I told him "Dad I think some of the others would like the drum stick." So he started to cut some of the meat off and make more drum sticks, we always had such big turkeys, there was enough for everyone.
He had a little saying while craving "You can have the wings and toes but I'll take part of the parson's nose." The parsons nose was the part the tail feathers came out.
Dad had to have Brussel sprouts, if possible and Mom liked a little bit of celery, her words. Dad's dessert for Christmas was "little pigs in a blanket." They were made from little sausages rolled up in pie crust and baked.
Once Dad placed a lot of raisins on a heat proof platter and poured brandy over them, then he lit the raisins they flamed up. He told us to go ahead and eat some of them. I was afraid of the fire, we were told not to play with fire My brothers were really eating the raisins, saying they were good. Dad asked why I was afraid of them. The boys weren't. So very cautiously I took one at a time. They didn't burn at all, just no heat. They went out before you got to your mouth. I didn't eat many as I never liked raisins anyway. It was exciting to watch my brothers eating them. Dad called them snapdragons. Now I know how the fellows that swallow the flaming sword or sticks fool us. The fire goes out as soon as it hits your mouths. Alcohol is a cool flame.
One night Santa came to our house early. We were going to have dinner early as Dad had an appointment for the evening. We were just a bout thru when Dad excused himself and said he'd be back as early as possible. He got up from the table and went into the bedroom. He came back all excited and in a hurry. "Santas been here I believe, theres something in the bedroom and the window is open." We all jumped up and ran as fast as we could to the bedroom. Dad was still mumbling "He must have come thru the window." He had us convinced. Behold he had been there. And left a lot of toys. The window was wide open and the curtains were waving in the breeze. No one in his right mind would open a window in the dead of winter. Our bedrooms were real cold in the winter time. Just a potbelly heater and the kitchen range to heat the whole house.
I am sure Dad never intended to go to any meeting that night. He stayed home and seemed real happy to enjoy our gifts.
This time we never had to wait for Santa to come, he was ahead of himself, no waiting, we still hated to go to bed Christmas Eve. It was so much fun staying up and playing with our toys. We got some real toys this year.
I enjoyed writing this, as it brought many memories.
Elsie May Crocker
April 15, 1990
Citation:
Elsie Crocker, "Christmas on the Farm when I was a Small Child" (typescript, 1990); copy in possession of Amber Brosius, 2020.
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