It was one day in the spring of 1931 when I was ten that I saw Mama doing something unusual.
I had received an average of 95 on my report card. Running very fast, I covered the mile and three-quarters from the school to our house. Mama would be glad to see that much studying had paid off.
When I arrived home, no one was there. Papa was painting a house for a man in our town, Lemon Springs. My two brothers and one sister were still on their way home from school.
"Mama, where are you?" I yelled.
There was no answer.
Then I went looking for Mama from the front parlor to the kitchen pantry. An empty house filled with silence was there for me. In the yard I continued my search, looking toward the orange grove that wrapped our house loosely on three sides. The front of our white clapboard dwelling faced a narrow dirt road. Across the road was a grapefruit grove.
Maybe Mama is somewhere in the grove I thought.
Behind the house I made my way through narrow aisles between the citrus trees. The trees were full grown and the green foliage brushed my body as I passed through. I saw the marble-sized green fruit on the branches and white blossoms that had fallen to earth. It seemed I had pushed my way through a half-mile of green but remembering back it really wasn't that far.
I found Mama among the root stock trees at the edge of the grove where the oranges were sour and thorns were plentiful. Mama had on a pair of old gloves and was very busy. I wondered what strange thing she was up to and why she seemed happy.
"Sakes, Mary, is it that late?" Mama asked, taking her butcher knife and slicing off a thorny, thin branch of the orange tree. It was laid carefully in a big basket with other spiked twigs.
"Mama, why do you cut off those old thorns?"
"Dear child," replied Mama. "These are for Christmas gifts. I'm tired of just giving marmalade every year."
"Nobody wants thorns, Mama," I returned. "And besides, Christmas is months away."
"I have an idea, Mary," explained mama. "I'm going to bend these green branches into circles and dry them in those old tin berry buckets hanging in the wood-shed."
"Why?" I asked. "They will turn brown and ugly."
"Because I decided to make thorn wreaths to give to Lem, Essie and Dan." Essie was Mama's sister. Lem and Dan were her brothers.
"They will laugh at you," I protested.
With her bushel basket stacked with thorns, we headed for the house. Looking up into Mama's freckled, smiling face under her reddish-brown hair, I wondered if Mama was leaving her mind. She took the basket of thorns into the wood-shed and came out quickly.
Zelma and Dale, my youngest sister and brother were coming into the yard.
Eugene was coming down the dirt road, slowly trailing behind the others.
"Mary, guess what?" said Zelma. "Mrs. Twigg said my report card is much better this time."
Dale was smiling. He, too, had good grades.
Eugene was in the fourth grade and he hated school as much as he hated snakes and okra. His face told that his news was sad. He had failed arithmetic and reading.
"Look, Mama," I said, remembering my report card. After seeing her behavior, I had forgotten my good grades.
"Bless you, Mary!" said Mama. "I'm right proud of you. Someday you will make a good teacher."
"I think I'll be a nurse," I announced, withdrawing to the bedroom that Zelma and I shared.
Mama followed me into the room and closed the door behind her.
"Honey," she said, "the thorns are a secret between you and me. Please don't tell anyone."
"I won't tell, Mama, "I promised. Who would even tell a secret like that. And I wondered how Mama would take it next Christmas when her family got together and all of them would laugh at her. I could just see Uncle Lem throwing his head back, exploding with amusement at Mama's idea of a gift. He would think he has a loony for a sister.
It wasn't long before Papa arrived home. Then three of us children proudly handed him our report cards.
Papa gave each of us three a big hug and a penny.
Eugene remained outside, hoping our father wouldn't notice his absence from the kitchen.
"Gene," called Papa. "Come in here, son. I want to see your report."
Eugene began to bawl as he came through the opened screen door to the kitchen.
"I'm sorry, Papa," he cried even louder.
Our father told him there was no need to cry but gave Eugene a short lecture on trying hard because everyone needs an education. He hugged our brother but did not give him a penny.
Mama told me to peel potatoes while she scaled two large fish that a friend had given to Papa.
After supper dishes were done. Mama washed. I dried. How I hated to dry dishes. I wished Zelma was nine so she could dry plates as I washed them. We had no sink in those days. Mama carried the dish pan onto the porch and threw the water over the banister.
It was always my chore to sweep crumbs from the kitchen and off of the back porch.
Papa and Eugene played checkers on a long table covered by a blue and white checkered oil-cloth. Zelma and Dale played jack rocks on the linoleum-covered floor.
Mama taught me to embroider and we made tea towels from sugar sacks. Mama drew pictures on the pressed sacks and I made them pretty with bright colored thread. Mama wasn't a professional artist but she could draw oranges and leaves that looked like the ones in our grove. Sometimes she drew other fruit on the big flour sacks and even tea cups and forks. Mama was a resourceful lady, trading her orange marmalade for chicken feed sacks. These printed sacks were sewed up into pretty dresses for Zelma and me.
It was in the depression and we children didn't know otherwise. We had enough to eat and cousins to play with often.
On Sundays Uncle Lem, Aunt Marty and their crippled son, Aaron came. Usually, they did not stay long. Aaron was eight. He always dragged one foot along. When we played games we had to stop often and wait for him but that was O.K. because he had a good personality and smiled a lot.
Aunt Essie and Uncle Jim came about once a month with their two girls, Tillie and Elizabeth. Tillie was eleven and Elizabeth was three. Aunt Essie expected Tillie to look after Elizabeth all the time. This wasn't fair because Tillie and I wanted to take long walks and do other things without her sister tagging along.
Uncle Dan and Aunt Hazel would pop in anytime with my cousin Melinda. Melinda was older than I. We were allowed to go swimming most of the time in Clear Lake. Sometimes the weather was too chilly or a storm came up. We went often to the church yard to gather azaleas or crepe myrtles.
Life was simple and nice with so many cousins. The only excitement was a church social or school picnic. We never worried about what happened on foreign shores. We had our own small world around Lemon Springs.
Papa listened to news at night on a small radio that sat on the library table in the parlor. On Saturdays he met with other men at the General Store in town to talk about citrus and gardening.
Mama attended the ladies society meeting at church once a month. Sometimes she made a cake for the event.
When school ended that year all of us were promoted but Eugene was on trial.
In the summer Mama canned vegetables and fruits. I learned to cook potatoes. It was so hot. Sometimes all of us stopped our work and lay around in the shade between noon and four o'clock. We had no air conditioner. There was not even a small fan in the kitchen. Florida summers last so long.
Finally November came and living was more comfortable. Mama again talked about Christmas - making fruit cakes for the holiday. Aunt Essie, Aunt Marty and Mama would meet at Aunt Marty's house and do the baking. Mama always had candied citrus peels ready. Aunt Hazel wasn't always there but she furnished the pecans. When the cakes were done and cooled, Mama wrapped them in tea towels and stored them in air-tight lard cans.
In 1931 Mama's sister and brothers with their families decided to meet at our house for Christmas day.
"I'm not sure I want everyone to stay all day," said Papa. "Lem is such a grouch."
"Dear, you can take it one day out of the year," returned Mama. "I doubt they will stay long, Lem gets restless."
There wasn't a lot of preparation for Christmas and not much said about the holiday until Christmas eve or the day before that. But there were the fruit cakes and this year Mama's strange idea of Christmas wreaths.
One day Mama went to the General Store with twelve cents she had saved over the past few months. She purchased six yards of narrow red ribbon.
After bringing out the thorny, orange branches that had dried in circlets in the berry buckets, Mama, with gloves on, carefully wrapped the narrow red ribbon between the thorns. She let two ribbons hand from the bottom. Then each finished wreath was dropped in a box and tied with twine. Her gifts were ready.
It was Christmas day and our relatives came. Aunt Essie brought a pot of poinsettias to put on the sideboard. Aunt Marty had a ham. Aunt Hazel had a platter of chocolate fudge.
We cousins could hardly wait to bite into the chocolate candy but no one was allowed to touch until the holiday meal was over.
When appetites were satisfied, all relatives gathered in the parlor which Mama had decorated with long-needle pine branches. Here presents were exchanged; Mama saved her boxes till last.
"Open carefully," warned Mama. "so as not to hurt yourselves."
Aunt Essie opened her box first.
"Ruth, how clever!" she exclaimed. "You remembered the real reason why we are celebrating. Thanks for reminding the rest of us."
"Unusual," was Uncle Dan's response when Aunt Hazel opened their box.
Uncle Lem grabbed the box from Aunt Marty and opened it. He saw that it was the same brown thorn wreath tied with red ribbon.
"No gift at all is better than thorns," he growled. Then he threw the wreath toward the fireplace. It fell on the hearth.
Mama was hurt and embarrassed. I almost died for Mama. What I dreaded had happened and there was nothing I could do.
For some unknown reason Aaron dragged his foot to the hearth and with two fingers he picked up the wreath of thorns.
When he did this the room filled with a bright light. The thorn wreath began to glow, turning into a gold crown with rubies and diamonds on it.
"Oh, look!" exclaimed Aaron. "It is a king's crown!"
Everyone else in the room was speechless.
After about fifty seconds the light began to fade and Aaron was left holding the brown and red wreath.
"Hey, look!" he shouted again. "I can jump up and down." He jumped very high for the first time in his life and then he ran from the room, out the front door and around the house. Aaron was healed! Never again would he drag his foot.
Mama cried tears of joy. I think that she understood more than anyone else exactly what had happened.
The miracle that took place in our parlor that Christmas day will be remembered by all who were present. It changed each one of us in some way. Uncle Lem probably changed the most of all. He apologized to Mama. From that day on he was never grouchy and Aaron, his crippled son at birth, grew stronger and stronger and became the county's best baseball player.
