Return to the Land

kerosene lamps lit the living room. To us now we’d think that would be a cozy Christmas but to them this was a form of regression. Dad and Carl went outside into the snow, as Dad looked back at the house and saw light shining through the incompletely chinked logs he exclaimed, “Looks like a damn Christmas tree!” On another Christmas, Uncle Carl brought them a bushel of Red Delicious apples and this so touched my father that when he finally regained work each Christmas he gave Uncle Carl and his family a bushel of Red Delicious apples as if to say, ‘ Thank you for remembering us in such a time of need during the Depression.’ I remember that my dad always had a fondness for Red Delicious apples. As the years went by the cabin took on a character all its own. It became deeply entrenched in the souls of my parents and eventually I too became part of this wonderful oak log cabin. The log cabin, along with my parents’ great hospitality hosted frequent visits by friends, neighbors and family. Families gathered more frequently then and on weekends many of my uncles, aunts, and cousins came to the cabin to spend Sunday afternoons. We would reminisce of times past and talk of hopes for the future. These were always joyous occasions and at certain times of the year such as Christmas and Thanksgiving my mother prepared a great feast. These large dinners included the traditional turkey, pumpkin pie, and fruitcake, which had been prepared weeks in advance and seasoned with homemade wine. Country cured ham was also offered as an alternative to turkey and most would partake of both meats. This tradition continued for many years before all the cousins grew up and had their own families. At these gatherings, my cousins and I would entertain ourselves by dressing up in Dad’s old army uniforms, helmet, and gas mask. We would play war in the old hay barn. Later, when we were older, we would sit around the log living room, with a glowing fire, and listen to the old folks talk about “ole times”. They often would tell stories on each other. Those frequent family gatherings are unfortunately fading in our present society. Our log cabin home was always open to guests and family. A long list of visitors is recorded in the family guest book that we still use to this day. I will always remember the enjoyment I had at those festive reunions whether we met at our house or our relatives. Each Sunday during fair and inclement weather, while Grandfather and Grandmother Miller were living on Kimberling, many of the Miller relatives gathered to pay respect for my gracious and loving grandparents.

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