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The view from, Rural Route #8

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Christmas times.

Many times the spirit of Christmas has been shown to me, and I would hope that all the readers and friends will have an experience this Christmas to remember and pass on to their loved ones. This story involves as lead fig-ure my late father, Bill Suber, who was not alone in provid-ing Christmas memories, but was a key figure in some of them.

I grew up in rural Georgia in the 1950s, an impoverished place in money and spirit, some from the North would maintain for years because of our racial policies. At least we weren't as hypocritical about it as some of them, which might be related to the reason the Atlanta minister Martin Luther King Jr. once called Chicago the meanest place he'd been.

From about 1955 to 1962 my father had a pine tree planting service, and I planted on weekends, after school and during Christmas "vacations." A fella on a planter machine could set out 12,000 to 14,000 trees: We locked away a lot of carbon when hating carbon wasn't cool. Some years we worked right up until noon on Christmas Eve. The cold-to-the-bone planting season was outdoors from Nov. 15 to March 15. It's a good thing mother taught school, is all I can say. Besides electric lights, she also provided hot suppers, fireplace fires and wool army blankets ready for us at night.

One dark Eve my Daddy and I took his old pickup to Sam Roberts' house in the woods. A roaring fire was warming those inside, but we waited in the truck, because of custom. Sam came out to the truck. We had Florida oranges for Sam's family. He had hot sausage he had made for us. He and Daddy exchanged the gifts right there. Sam was black. Daddy was white. They were teaching me on Christ-mas Eve not to hate anyone just because of their color, either direction, and that Je-sus was sent to die for our sin, white and black. That was probably 1956. Sam was a minister and he had a church and radio show and he sang. Some of his offspring went through college and on to be successful in the free world. Sam had served well in World War II, a fact my veteran fa-ther always honored.

My father could be angry over nothing and unfair to those he was supposed to be closest to. But one Christmas night he eagerly opened his door to greet me. I had traveled through three airports all day and rented a car to get there before midnight. I was without my own family following a divorce that fall and it was the first Christmas like that for me. I was not in the best shape, but he for that night and a week following never uttered a sour word to me or blamed me for what was also a great loss for him. Instead, he welcomed me almost as if I were the biblical prodi-gal son. Of course, my dear mother had coached him for years to be warmer and nicer. One sunny afternoon that week he hitched up an old planter, "found" some seedling trees, and we spent a few hours "setting out pines" on his farm, just as we had as a team 25 years earlier. We planted 5,000 trees, his last and probably mine. That time together was an unforgettable gift.

The same Dad had an older brother who had suffered in four years of war in China many injuries to his body and soul. His tab was devastating. But in the darkest hours of his brother's greatest needs, for him my father's home and heart were always open. My uncle, who often showed up at Christmas, was difficult, and Daddy once told me out of the blue that his brother "might be a mess but he is our mess and that's the way it's going to be." Uncle gradually regained his life, did much good and was devoted to my father.

Pa brought lighter Christ-mas moments, too. A great pistol shot, he used to knock mistletoe clumps out of tall swamp trees with his 1911A .45-caliber Colt he had carried in the war. I loved it when that happened. And he put on a necktie for gift unwrapping time, and made us wait our turn while someone else un-wrapped a present. The list was kept and thank-you notes would be done before nightfall. He also would read a few Christmas story verses from the Bible. We were Christians and blissfully unaware that fact was a threat to anyone, and certainly not to ourselves. We took our church Christmas cantatas for granted and our right and duty to be there for granted. Our greetings for the holidays were Merry Christ-mas and Happy New Year! You too! No, we didn't think at the time we had much, but it turns out we really did.



Copyright 2009 The Wabaunsee County Signal-Enterprise, Alma, Kansas. All Rights Reserved. This content, including derivations, may not be stored or distributed in any manner, disseminated, published, broadcast, rewritten or reproduced without express, written consent from SmallTownPapers, Inc.

© 2010 The Wabaunsee County Signal-Enterprise Alma, Kansas. All Rights Reserved. This content, including derivations, may not be stored or distributed in any manner, disseminated, published, broadcast, rewritten or reproduced without express, written consent from DAS.

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