Every year . . . or so, I try to create a Christmas Story for our kids. I hoped this would be an annual tradition we could share and it worked well ... for two Christmases - then we had our second child.
I have managed to churn out a few stories - many are not especially memorable. I did not get one together this year; I have an idea that's working around in my head but it's too big to pull together yet.
What follows is last year's story. It is one of those less memorable stories - so don't over expect:
The Christmas Ghost of Snagbottom Pass
When I was in about the fourth grade at the President Andrew Johnson School the events of this story occurred. I suppose I should explain the President Andrew Johnson School: Though this was only a little one room school house, someone had traveled to Knoxville, Tennessee, and learned that some big towns name their schools after Presidents. The people of Snagbottom were not to be outdone by any big city folks, so they named their school after the only President ever hailing from the Great Volunteer state of Tennessee.
As Christmas Holidays neared during the time I am going to tell you about, our teacher – Mrs. Pickle – was unable to teach due to a bout with the influenza. Mrs. Pickle was the only teacher at President Andrew Johnson School, she taught all grades. Well, all the folks along Snagbottom Pass began taking turns to try and nurse Mrs. Pickle back to health. One by one, families arrived with chicken soup and their own tried and true remedies. The neighbors also began to try and find a substitute teacher to fill in for Mrs. Pickle while she was out.
Eventually they settled on Dillweed Cloves. Dillweed was a gangly, oafish sort of a character; he seemed to always be hanging around but never really doing anything. He didn’t do much farming, like most folks on the Pass, and he never bothered to get married and have a family. Dillweed loved to talk. Anywhere a bunch of men were gathered around a fire, whittling sticks and talking – you’d find Dillweed standing around gawking and talking.
I think it was because he was the only one with nothing to do, that the folks decided to appoint him as the official substitute teacher for Mrs. Pickle. He did have a pretty good education, why he had graduated from the eighth grade right there at President Andrew Johnson School! Dillweed always bragged that they liked him so much at the school that they wouldn’t let him have his diploma until he agreed to come back to the eighth grade for a “repeat performance”.
Dillweed assumed office as our official substitute teacher three days before Christmas holidays.
By lunch time on the first day, he had pretty much taught us all he knew.
So Dillweed decided we all needed lots of fresh air and he declared recess for the rest of the afternoon.
That plan worked very well the first day, but on the second day of recess, the boys became tired of just playing and waxed mischievous and stole some of Ma’ O’Donnell’s blackberry pies she had cooling on the window sill.
When Ma’ O’Donnell caught them, she came after them with the business end of her sage broom.
On the third day, cold weather had moved in and some folks said a storm was brewing so the children all refused to go outside for recess that morning.
That’s when Dillweed took to doing what he did best – he weaved a yarn. And because he was feeling a little perturbed with the entire class body, he decided to make it as scary as possible.
...continued ...
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