I apologize for not being around the past couple of weeks. I have been busy with Christmas goodie baking and some personal matters. I shipped off a box of treats to the former Mrs. Translator on Monday for her to enjoy and share with Middle Son, Least Son, and their families. I also mailed out a box to Eldest Son and his mate since they are unable to come home this year.
Those of you that read this regular series know that I am from Hackett, Arkansas, just a mile or so from the Oklahoma border, and just about 10 miles south of the Arkansas River. It was a rural sort of place that did not particularly appreciate education, and just zoom onto my previous posts to understand a bit about it.
I have mentioned previously how much my mum loved Christmas. She loved wrapping the gifts, cooking the goodies and meals, and even buying the gifts. But most of all she loved to decorate the interior of the house. (The outside belonged to my dad to decorate.) A major part of decorating was the tree itself, but she did the whole downstairs as well.
We never bought a tree (except for one of those three foot aluminum ones popular in the early 1906s on which she would hang the Christmas cards). We always went out and got our own. Before I was old enough to go, my brother and dad would go get one, usually from the farm. Later, after he married and moved away and I got older, my dad and I would go.