By Nellie Curtiss …
Christmas Eve 1967 in small town Texas, where water was a big deal, was markedly cold as temperature dropped to 36 degrees on the weather gauge. It was bittersweet though because the children’s stepdaddy stationed at Pleiku AFB, a US Air Force base in South Vietnam couldn’t get leave to come home at Christmastime. While a ceasefire was being observed over there, locals with elderly and toddlers enjoyed snug homes in the Rio Grande Valley. Neighborhood streets were lined with Wild Date palm trees, 40 ft high. Holiday red and green Festive Lights with C9 bulbs, giants compared to today’s LEDs, abounded in home after home; and some yards sported three-foot plastic Santa Clauses or wooden cut-out nativity scenes.
Store-bought blow-mold characters like Bambi, Snow White, Tinker Bell, and Pinocchio decked lawns. Inside, flocked live fir trees transported the “northern snow” to living rooms. Store windows again displayed scenes like a one-horse open sleigh from Jingle Bells.
That year Mom shared letters from Daddy with paragraphs for Cindy, Mindy, and Lindy as well as extended family of cousins, aunts, and uncles. Everyone took their turn reading their paragraphs from the jungles of Vietnam. Daddy wrote that he spent many bombing nights under his cot. Although the squad was a safe mile from the fighting front, explosions rocked the Airmen’s bunker. “Sometimes children and women carry bombs on them or under their clothes,” he wrote as a matter of fact.
Not surprisingly, angst in the squadron was normalized even during the holidays. He added, “I’m enjoying and sharing the latest care package that you sent, including the oatmeal and raisin cookies that Cindy baked.” He said, “Actually, the cookies arrived as crumbs in the tin,” and added, “but still they were delicious!”
After reading and rereading Daddy’s notes, Mama served spaghetti and meatballs on Melmac dishes from a recipe given by Grandma and Grandpa. After gobbling seconds, Cindy, Mindy, and Lindy cleared the dining table and scraped the food off of the plates in the kitchen. In Sunday clothes and back from Immanuel Lutheran Church’s candlelight services, the family continued the German tradition of opening gifts that Santa had dropped down their corrugated cardboard fireplace fresh from Sears Wish Catalog.
Joel opened his package with a new Zebco 909 fishing reel. Everyone was oohing and ahhing about how soon he would get out to fish at Lake Tampacuas. Lindy enjoyed so many toys that she didn’t know which to play with first: an Easy Bake Oven, Mattel’s talking Mrs. Beasley, Play-Doh, Silly Putty or the tea set. All three girls opened up presents with clothes for school. Mama’s present from her sister was a new leather purse; and Eva’s present was a new western outfit along with a new halter for her horse. Uncle Andy’s present was a Swiss Colony cheese and sausage package. Uncle William opened up a new shirt and pants. Finally, the adults had a cold Schlitz beer out on the back porch while the kids enjoyed milk and German chocolate cake in the living room. “Don’t Fence Me In” and “Hands Across the Border,” old Roy Rogers movies, blared from the GE 15-inch television but even that couldn’t block the laughter from the screened-in porch.
Then the black Western Electric 500 phone (rotary dial) rang; and it was an across-continents call from Daddy. Mama held the phone gently while she talked and whispered. Of the 30-minute call, Mom had the longest time chatting with Daddy than any of the family. When Cindy held the receiver, Daddy reminded her, “Be good and help mom.” Then, Lindy at three-years-old was the youngest and everyone called out with her as she sang out, “Merry Christmas Daddy!”
— Nelda Curtiss is a retired college educator and long-time local columnist. Reach her at http://www.columnsbynellie.com or email her at columnsbynellie@gmail.com
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