NOTE:  My grandmother, Gertrude Estella Jackman Montague, had twin brothers , Golden and Rulon, who came to just be referred to as "The Twins".  I found this among some things Rulon had forwarded to my mother.  It was written by Golden.  I think it captures well circumstances common to ordinary folk in Utah in 1909.  ---SWL 

The Twins’ Christmas

1909

All summer long everything had been ‘GO’.  Every member of the family had a share in a dream of a new home.  The old, three room, log and adobe house seemed to have shrunk with age.  Now with six children still at home and six more, who came home from work jobs once in a while, the old house had scarcely a corner left for dear old daddy and mother.

Father had built a mill in which to make adobe mud.  The center shaft, turned by horse power, pressed the mud out onto a table.  Father stood in a hole beside the table and filled molds all day, many a day, with his bare hands.

By the end of summer, enough adobes had been dried and sold at $4.00 a thousand, to buy enough kiln dried brick for the outside, and line the inside of two large rooms down stairs and three upstairs.  This, besides enough to pay a brick mason for his labor.

A rock foundation had been set, and waiting for months.

Finally came a day to celebrate.  Christmas seemed to be just in time.  Even without a carpet on the floors or plaster on the walls, there was a proper atmosphere to fill the lungs and sing praises.

A Christmas-tree would have to be brought from the snow laden canyon.  Burlap sacks were gathered, these to be tied around feet and legs for boots.  What a wrapped up sight these men were!  They had been so wrapped up with other work that the Christmas tree trip had been postponed until the last day.  All was in readiness at last.  When we awoke the next morning, we were greeted by a heavy layer of new snow.  This looked like a let-down for hopes of a Christmas tree.  But father was one who did not look kindly on letting his family down.

Now, since the mother of invention is necessity, he came up with what, to my knowledge, was the world’s first artificial Christmas Tree.

He selected a red-pine log from our winter’s wood pile, sawed it to the right length, and drilled holes all around and up and down on it.  Into the holes he drove sticks and pegs for limbs.

We popped corn, threaded it on a short piece of straw between each kernel, laced it around with the candles and other arnaments.  We piled cotton around the bottom braces and were all ready for a Merry Christmas.

About eight p.m. my twin brother and I had obediently gone to bed, ‘so that Santa Claus could come’, when out of the clear, cold night came a loud jingle, jingle of sleighbells.  Suddenly the outside door flew open and in burst Santa Claus and Mrs. Santa Claus.  The sleigh bells that they had so snugly buckled around them, made real music to our ears as they danced upon our new kitchen floor.  Our hearts captured the tingling of this vibration, never to let it go.

After they stopped dancing Santa asked, Would you like an ‘opera-bar for a Christmas Present from Santa?  After we had received a precious bar of candy, each, fresh from Santa’s bag, he spoke to us again, as only Santa Claus can, “Now be good boys and go to bed.  We will be back again before morning.”

                                    Then, away they scurried as tho they were hurried;

                                    Our cares and our worries had all been buried.

The smell of sweet chocolate candy was a new experience to us.  It was more of a temptation than we were prepared for.  To save the opera bars until morning, as was suggested, would have taken a safe.  Sweet dreams held us tight.

After we had gone to sleep, two of our older sisters came home from their work jobs.  When we awoke in the morning, we were greeted by their smiles and kisses.  These greetings were gifts we had not expected.

As we proceeded to look for presents, we found a two foot square blackboard.  On it was painted a scene of Christmas trees in their mountain setting. It was done with colored chalk.  We did not erase it for a long time.

As this Christmas-day wore on, the air in our dream home was filled with fragrance.  Mionce meat pies led the way, cinnamon cookies came next; Chicken and dumplings were made last, but eaten first.  These fragrant memories are easily recalled.  I still see those pies, sitting in a row, with their rosy cheeks and oozing sweetness.  They seem to say, “Come back and stay, It’s Christmas Day.”

I sat by my Papa as usual, with my right elbow on his left arm.  If it were  not so at meal time, he felt as much like something was missing, as I did.  My twin brother sat over by mother.

In the late afternoon and evening, the winter air on our corner was filled with the merry jingle, jingle of sleighbells, as only sleigh-bells can fill it.

Up the snow-clad street came the bobsled, loaded with high spirited young folk.  The teamster knew just how fast to get the big team of beautiful, black horses running, and just how to make them pivot to cause the bobsled to slide around in a large circle.  “Cutting Didoes,” they called it.

I believe he had the best ‘Dido-team’ and the largest, clearest ringing set of sleighbells in the country, of course, baring the ones Santa Claus wore on his shoulder and around his waist, the night before.

“Dreams must not stay in the ‘dream-stage forever’. They must either be made to ‘come true’ OR they will shrink back into nothingness.”

Golden L. Jackman

1971

Original (1971) grammar, punctuation and spelling preserved, except where it may have caused confusion.

SWL