Columbia..and other trips in my mind

My grandmother on my father's side died back in 1969. Until that time, the entire Finlayson clan consisting of eight people of various sizes would pack into a station wagon and drive from Gadsden, AL to Columbia, SC. It was a crowded car and a very long trip.

Dad would drive, mom would either navigate or read a magazine in the front passenger seat. The six kids would be packed like sardines in the rest of the car. There was no room for luggage in the car - back then - folks actually used the luggage rack. Nobody particularly cared about sitting next to Irene because Irene had a tendency to get car sick. Don't get me wrong, Irene is a great sis and all, but to be on either side of her was like playing vomit roulette. Let's be honest here, a person's first reaction is not to puke on one's self, but rather turn away from your own lap and spew elsewhere. Things got better once mom and dad found out that there was a motion sickness pill they could give her and we didn't have to be as nervous sitting next to her. The trip out to Columbia was a long one, but I don't recall any major upsets (other than the on going Irene throw-up watch).

The family had our sing-a-long standards. One of them was a song that dad wrote for his old Alma mater, Cheraw High School. It was a fight song that the school adopted and used for many years. Just ask any of Westbrook kids to sing it to you and we can do it by heart. Dad was a band leader in his pre-law days - so he was always the conductor when it came to what song was sung.

I don't remember us stopping on those trips that much. I know that we all loved pulling over when we came across and A&W drive-in.

I remember our Christmas' in Columbia. I remember going up talking to grandmother as she sat in a chair as the rest of the Finlayson adults put a big breakfast on the table. Jennie Llew, Florrence, Rutha, and mom would prep a huge breakfast spread. The dining room table was extended as far as it would go and we'd all try to fit around it. My aunts would always use the best china, glass ware and silver ware. It was a real different experience for me - eating my eggs and sausages on a fancy plate like royalty or like breakfast at an old plantation home in the old south. Yep, that's it, going to Columbia was like driving back into another era. Most of my family over there talked like Shelby Foote or Scarlet O'hare. The Columbia kinfolk were very elegant folk - very genteel and proper. Odd to think that I was cut from that fine bolt of cloth. I am so not elegant. I stained that cloth from my beginning.

As you can see - I wasn't going anywhere in particular with this post - just sharing memories of Christmas past.

When you're young - you think things are going to be the same forever - that the home you have now is the home you'll always have. That the family around the table will always be there across from or next to you. That parents are eternal. The constant about life is that life nothing is constant - life changes. We grow up, make lives for ourselves - make homes of our own. I've been thinking this Christmas about those Christmas' lived many decades ago. They were great times - surrounded by dear kin folk that I won't see until I see them in Heaven. I am thankful for the life God has given me - all this family - all these memories.

Today I'm experiencing a Christmas with young sweet faces before me. Each Christmas is a new experience and we have our own traditions. Wednesday night at the table I tried to share to my children about those Christmas' in Columbia those many years ago. I sounded like an old fart I know. They didn't seem interested - or able to visualize what I was seeing in my mind's eye. Those were my memories, my past - nothing to do with them. Their eyes are set on the present moment - and on the morning to follow, the Christmas spread immediately before them. I hope that they have as good of a Christmas as I am having right now. I have a loving wife and two great little kids. We sat around the table and each offered up a prayer - then we sang happy birthday to Jesus. I don't remember ever doing that before - perhaps a new tradition.

Each year is a little different. Each Christmas day plays out it's own way. The eve is over and tomorrow will be a rush of opening presents and visiting kin folk across town. Like always, evening will come too fast. I hope that in the rush of season that in my children's mind - a few precious memories will be made and kept for the ages - something worth recalling and telling to their children.

Merry Christmas you all - and Happy Birthday Jesus!