My
name is Thelma Lou and I have a story to tell you about a long time Christmas family
tradition. My daughter Gertie sat curled up on her grandpa’s lap in da old
rockin’ chair by the wood stove. Da red line on the thermometer dipped well
below zero as da wind howled through the pines. We all love this time of year
when we visit my folks during Gertie's winter break from school.
I came from the kitchen with two
steaming mugs of hot chocolate. Gertie poked at da mini marshmallows bobbing on
top. Then she licked the chocolate off her fingertips and grinned all Chesire cat
like. I settled down on da sofa with my mother’s afghan pulled over my legs and
I cracked open my mystery novel.
“Tell me a story, Grandpa!” Gertie
begged. I knew from da twinkle in Pa’s eye and his sly grin toward me that she
was about to hear a whopper.
“Did I ever tell you about the
Christmas tradition your Grandma and I started before your mother was born?”
Gertie shook her head. Even if she
had heard da story before, it always grew bigger with each telling.
Grandpa began. “ I bet you didn’t
know your Grandma and I made some of da best moonshine around.”
“What is moonshine, Grandpa?”
I look over my book at my Pa.
“Oh, it’s something people used to
drink in the old days, before there were revenuers up north. They celebrated a
lot when they drank it.”
“Like when we drank raspberry
Kool-Aid at my birthday party.”
“That’s right sweetie, whenever
there was moonshine around you could be sure there was going to be a party.” Pa
winked at me and continued with his story before I could interrupt it.
“Every year a few weeks after
Thanksgiving, we’d head out into da woods with our best bottle and your
Grandma’s Remington shot gun to pick out a tree. It all started when I lost my
best chainsaw in a poker game.” Grandpa whispered, “But dat’s another story,
and I’d just as soon not bring it up while your Grandma’s within earshot! Now
where was I? Oh yeah, how da tradition of shooting da tree got started.”
“The only thing we had to use to cut
down our Christmas tree dat year was your Grandma’s Remington. So we stuck it
on the gun rack in our trusty old Ford and we headed out in to da woods to hunt
down the perfect spruce.”
“Before too long we ran into old Gussy.
He was a Conservation officer who had to follow every rule in the books. Yer
Grandma was worried that he’d write us up for doing something wrong, especially
after that incident with the ten pointer in July the year before. So she hid da
gun under the seat and commenced to smoochin’ on me like we were out on our
first date.”
“Gussy pulled up next to us and
asked us what we were up to. Yer Grandma told him dat she was overcome with
passion for me, ever since I helped her trim her bunions dat week. He seemed
satisfied with her answer and drove off to leave us to our business.”
“As soon as we saw his truck
disappear, we pulled out da shot gun and the jug of moonshine and we made for
the woods.”
“Before we could make it 15 feet, we
heard a loud horn toot behind us. Wouldn’t you know it, our neighbors from down
the street, the Bulenskis, had decided to go for a little drive in da forest dat
day. They asked us what we were doin.’ We figured they could keep a secret, so
yer Grandma told them how we planned to get our tree dat year.”
‘Well they thought that was a grand
idea. Billy ran back home to get his rifle and when he got back, he and Hildie
joined us on our adventure.”
“Of course da news spread like wild
fire and da tradition was born. Da ‘Shooting of the Tree’ became a yearly
community event. We all took turns being on da lookout for Gussy. We always
managed to stay one step ahead of him. But then a new problem arrived on the
scene.”
“What grandpa?”
“Do you remember hearin’ stories
about my Aunt Eartha? She was one of da biggest tree huggin’ creatures you’d
ever seen. She tried to hold a rally to get us to stop da tradition, but we
still did it anyway. So Eartha changed her tactics and decided to team up with
Gussy to catch us in da act.”
“Yer Grandma and I thought we’d have
a little fun with my aunt. Even though she couldn’t kill a tree to celebrate
Christmas, she sure wasn’t afraid to shoot any bunnies for her famous rabbit
stew.”
“What did you do, Grandpa?”
“Aunt Eartha used to complain all da
time about how hard it was to get a good bead on the little buggers in da
winter time since they blended in with da snow so well, and her eyesight wasn’t
what it used to be.”
“So we followed her out to one of
her favorite huntin’ spots and hid behind some big beech trees. After she moved
on, we sneaked out and put a pile of carrots at da base of a clump of spruces.”
“Sure enough, after a few days those
rabbits were coming back all da time to look for more grub. We waited for
Eartha to show back up.”
“There she was with the biggest
smile on her face. She lifted her shot gun and Bam! She shot at da rabbit.
Well, dat bunny got away, but Eartha had shot a hole clean through da trunk of
one of da spruce trees! The tree teetered, then it fell to da ground.”
“Oh, no,” said Gertie. She covered
her mouth and looked very surprised.
Papa continued. “She took a look
around to see if anyone had seen her dreadful deed. Then she slung da trunk of dat
spruce tree over her shoulder and dragged it out of da woods. We were flipping
blown over. She threw da tree into the bed of her pickup and she drove home.”
“We followed her to her home and
peeked in her window. We watched her decorate dat dang thing! Every now and
then she’d stop and stare up at da tree and grin. She’d give it a hug and sniff
its branches. Aunt Eartha seemed to be sucking in da aroma of dat tree and
holding it in her nostrils as long as she could.”
“Did she know you were watching
her?”
“No. Yer Grandma couldn’t take it
anymore. She was laughing so hard at da sight, she was sure Eartha would hear
us. So yer Grandma marched over to da front door and banged real hard on it. I
kept watching Aunt Eartha through da window. She looked around in a panic. Then
she decided she better answer the knocking since it kept getting louder.”
“Eartha stammered. Words were
refusing to come out of her mouth right. I thought this was a good time to join
da party so I stormed into da house with my hands on my hips.”
“I was just about to open my mouth and
blackmail my aunt so dat she wouldn’t hassle us anymore about our activities
when she spoke up, ‘You know, this isn’t such a bad way to celebrate da season.
I think I’d like participate in this tradition next year.’”
He paused to take a sip of his coffee.
He grinned at Gertie. She smiled back and took a sip of her hot chocolate.
“And that’s just what she did. She
even started da event with a bugle call every year! Until she headed for the
happy rabbit hunting grounds in da sky.”
“That’s amazing, Grandpa. Do you
have a picture of Aunt Eartha?”
“Yes, I do. I will show ya after I
drink my coffee.”
“Did dat really happen, Papa?”
“Of course it did. I’m surprised yer
Ma didn’t tell you dat she and your Pa have carried on da family tradition for
years now.” My Pa winked my way again as Gertie climbed down off his lap and
scrambled over towards me on da couch to sit next to her ma.
“Is it true Ma?” Without waiting for
an answer she added, “And how come we don’t get to go with you and drink
moonshine and help shoot down da tree?”
Papa got up and patted me on da
shoulder, “I think I hear Grandma calling me in da kitchen.” He shuffled off with a twinkle in his eye.
Brunner, S. (2016). Lake Superior in the Moonlight. Michigan: Freedom Eagles Press.
Brunner, S. (2016). Lake Superior in the Moonlight. Michigan: Freedom Eagles Press.
