The LoJo asked some of our talented readers to submit a favorite Memory of Christmases Past. These three by Andy Rector, Dianna Penrod and Bob Owen were among our favorites.

My Giant Christmas Tree
By Andy Rector

Andy Mac was president of the 1958 graduating class of RHS and was one of 
the first teen deejays on WRUS. A graduate of the University of Tennessee, 
he's with ACC Electronix in Illinois. His dad Mac owned a parts store and his 
mother Clennie Sue was a teacher at RHS, as was his aunt, Miss Ruth Price 
Carpenter. He wrote the following memory recently for his eight-year-old 
grandson, Penn Ogilvie.

One year, sometime between Thanksgiving and Christmas, I took the responsibility for finding a Christmas tree. I must have been nine or ten at that time, and I talked my friends, the McIntosh boys, into participating in a new adventure. We rounded up the horses and set off in search of a proper tree. Ray (known as John to most of his friends) and I rode Flash, my pony, while Ed, Kent, and Joe road bareback on Beauty, our faithful old mare that was blind in one eye.

At that time, a stretch of what is now known as the Milton Riley Road (runs from the Hopkinsville Road to the Clarksville Road) was “unimproved” (dirt), and it always provided the perfect setting for our explorations. Naturally, that was the route that we took for our Christmas tree search.

That road returned to gravel status at a farm house near the Clarksville Road, When we arrived there, we discovered that the house had been abandoned except for a litter of young pups that protested our visit by yipping and barking incessantly while trying to “herd” us and the horses. They appeared to be collies with possibly some shepherd blood, too. I was without a dog at the time, and I spotted one male pup with beautiful markings.

We finally found a cedar tree that I thought would be perfect in our living room and cut it with a saw that we had taken along. We soon realized that it was a rather large tree and started thinking about how we would get it home. Dragging it was not an option in my mind. The tree would be stripped of foliage by the time we got there. Our solution was to position the tree across the pony’s shoulders in front of the horn on my western saddle. To keep it from falling off, Ray (who was in the saddle) leaned off to the right toward the narrow top of the tree, and I (riding behind the saddle) leaned off to the left toward the bottom of the tree. It was quite a balancing act. Ed, Kent, and Joe riding triple on Beauty took the saw.

It worked!  We got home with a Christmas tree, five boys, and two horses all in tact, When we finally got the tree inside the house, we discovered a “big” problem. The tree was more than a foot too tall for our ceiling. The only viable option was to make the tree shorter. The tree top came to a perfect point for our illuminated angel; so, the extra length had to be removed from the bottom.

When we sawed off the required length. I discovered that there were some gaping holes in the previously beautiful tree.We mounted the tree on the Christmas tree stand that our family had used for years only to discover that it wasn’t big enough to support and balance my giant tree. So, we found a two-by-four and made a giant stand. The tree went up with just enough room for the angel to sit on top. But, what could be done about those holes near the bottom of the tree?

By that time, the McIntosh boys had to leave; and I started trying to figure out how to return the tree to its former beautiful shape. A tack hammer, some tiny nails, and some picture hanging wire did the trick. I “grafted” the missing limbs back on the tree, and it looked great by the time Mom and I got it decorated. Fortunately, our living room was pretty large; and, with a little luck, we might have room for the tree 

and

 our family.

As usual, I was up before daylight on Christmas morning - this time to see what was under my giant tree. With great excitement, I found an un-wrapped accessory for my favorite hobby, a Lionel train. As soon as my mom would allow me, I called my grandparents to see how soon they could get there for breakfast and the gift exchange. Some way or the other, we packed my grandparents, my aunt and uncle, my parents and me into the room with my giant tree, and we had another wonderful Christmas together.

I will have to remember to tell you about the Christmas cooking preparations that went on at my grandparents' house. I get hungry just thinking about it, and the wonderful smells still linger in my mind.

Christmas Day Morning
By Dianna Penrod

Dianna is the district manager of the Logan County Soil Conservation  
Districts. She and her husband Boyd have two college-age children, 
Jessica and Patrick. 

When I was 16 years old, there was a knock at our door early Christmas Day Morning; and we couldn’t figure who would be at the door that early. Dad opened the door and this old man stood there, dressed in ragged clothing, scraggly beard and looked so lost and alone. He wanted to know if he could have something to eat, but he didn’t want to bother us by coming in.  

Dad welcomed him in to the house and gave him a cup of coffee and some breakfast and then gave him some money, discreetly. One odd thing was my mom had a little toy poodle who didn’t like anyone except family, and he adored the elderly man.

The other odd thing was as soon as the man left, my mom told me to run after him and have him come back, so he wouldn’t be out in the cold and he could have lunch later that day with us. When I went outside there was no one around, I looked up and down the street and all around, but there was no one.

This has stayed with me always, the magic of Christmas and helping our fellow man. Who was this man? We will never know. But I do know that he gave us a Christmas gift that will be forever remembered, the Christmas Spirit.

Merry Christmas!

Nick meets Nick
By: Bob Owen

Bob Owen is a graduate of Russellville High School who is a humorist and 
motivational speaker. He writes a column called 

"Boomer Humor."

 This is 
one of his Christmas memories.

Good friends of ours were hosting his law firm’s Christmas party at their home and had bought gag gifts to give to the attorneys. Because some of the gifts were “rather personal,” you might say, the hosts wanted Santa Claus to be someone who knew everyone in the firm pretty well. And someone who could take a joke. That would be me. 

I hadn’t been Santa at a party before, so I was excited, especially after they dropped by a really top-rate Santa costume for me to wear. On that Saturday night, I got all dressed up, strutting before the mirror because I looked so fine in red, and went to the party to tease everyone and give out gifts. It was fantastic fun, and I was surprised how many of the people didn’t recognize me. Even with my distinct voice. 

When I left the party, I was feeling “in the role,” so I called our neighbors who had two children - four-year-old Nick and Gina, who was a couple or so years older. When Diane answered, I explained. “I’ve been at a party playing Santa, and I’m really looking good in the role. Do you want me to stop by as Santa and see Nick and Gina before I go home?” She said Gina was out with Poppa (Dad) but I was welcome to come and see Nick. She thought it was a great idea.

When Nick answered the door and saw Santa standing right there on his front porch, his eyes got as big as saucers. I went in and danced around and had Nick tell me what he wanted for Christmas. He couldn’t stop talking. “Santa I want this, and Santa, please bring Gina that.” I was amazed. And I felt wonderful at having fooled everyone all night. No one knew me.

An hour later, Poppa called to thank me for coming over. He said Nick really enjoyed it, and then he started laughing. Really laughing. Laughing hard. “I have to tell you what happened,” he said.

It seems that when Gina and her dad came home, Diane said, “Nick, tell them who came by to see you.” Nick was so excited he could hardly contain himself. “Oh, Poppa, Santa Claus came by and I told him what I want for Christmas.’

His Dad questioned, “Nick, really? Santa came to see you?” Nick didn’t hesitate a second. “Actually, it was Mr. Owen, but he was having such a good time pretending, I didn’t want to tell him I knew who he was.”