An Unforgettable Christmas Journey

Most of the time in the mid-south, December 21, is just another day, and winters bite never really takes hold until after the beginning of the New Year. Unlike our friends further to the north and especially above the Mason Dixon Line, snows are not a common thing here and Christmas snow is even rarer. In fact, I can count on one hand the number of times we have experienced a white Christmas in my lifetime. Each one holds a very special place in my memory, but the one I recall the most would have to be the Christmas of 1969.

That particular Christmas morning brought our area the largest Christmas Day snowfall in history, a record that still stands until this day. Even though I was just a child, I can still recall very vividly a Christmas when at least to me the whole world seemed blanketed in white, and a trip to the grandparents was to say the least, unforgettable.

For some reason the men in my family have never taken it cannot be done very seriously, and traveling in the snow is one of those things we all consider ourselves to be the master of. Even now there is something about a snow that just makes me want to get out and drive in it. Man and machine versus snow and ice, what could possibly go wrong?

However, this Christmas snow was a little different. My dad had a 1964 Volkswagen Beetle, and until this day, I do not remember anywhere he could not take us in it, we even crossed a few creeks. Many of us drive four-wheel drive vehicles today and never think about tires, however when I was younger people would put “mud-grip” tires on the back of their car or truck to get around in the winter, and my father was no different.

So with winter tires on the back of the old VW, we headed out, sliding over the hills and through hollers to get to that little country farm house on the ridge, where my grandparents were waiting with Christmas dinner ready to eat. The only problem was getting up the ridge was just too much for that little car in that much snow. In addition, if you have ever been in an old Volkswagen, a heater was almost non-existent, and the defroster, many times consisted of an old rag or maybe even an ice scraper if it was very cold, and yes I am talking about inside the car.

With no way to reach the top, and only a couple more miles to our destination, my dad turned down the old road that ran below the ridge, only to find it virtually impossible to travel as well. So pulling off the side of that old dirt road, he got out of the car, walked to a house, and called my grandparents. Even though it seemed like a long time, and believe me I still can remember how cold it was in that little beige car, with snow up above the bottoms of the doors. It was not long until one of my uncles came to us in his truck and carried us the remainder of the way.

The warmth of that big old wood stove, in the living room of that farmhouse never felt better, as we slowly shed layers of clothing until we were finally warm again. Once warmed, we were all able to sit down and enjoy a wonderful Christmas dinner at my grandparents. Then just as kids will do, we all ran back out into the cold and spent the rest of the day playing in the greatest Christmas snow any of us had ever experienced.

Sometime later that day my dad and my uncles managed to get the car up to the house, and the trip back home was for the most part uneventful, but the memories that remain from that trip are ones I will cherish. In hindsight, my parents probably wished they never attempted the trek, because as parents I am sure there was worry about the potential effects of the cold. However, for two little boys sitting in the backseat of that old Beetle the memories will last forever.