Of a Christmas baby, special tree and hidden record player

By The Standard Staff - 12/24/2007

Editor’s note: Readers responded with great enthusiasm to the The Standard’s request for personal Christmas stories. They run the gamut — happy, sad, funny, poignant, heart-warming. Running through Christmas Day, The Standard will print a selection of these stories.

New son arrives on Christmas By Carol Berry of 2000 Adams St.

What a surprise when I awoke on Christmas morning in 1961 and realized that God was going to bless us with a baby on Christmas. It was a surprise since the baby wasn’t due until Jan. 7. I woke my husband, Walt, and shared the exciting news with him. Since it was to be our fourth child, we were concerned about the day for our 5-year-old son, Dick, and daughters, Judy, 3½, and Linda, almost 2. I then called my sister-in-law, Eileen, who was cooking dinner and told her we had better eat early. (She is a nurse and was always with me during the births of my children.) We spent the day checking out what Santa brought and had an early dinner. Everyone was a little on edge. After the main course, but before dessert, we went to the hospital. I apologized to the doctor for disrupting his dinner. The doctor said if my sister-in-law wanted to be there when the baby was born she had better hurry. Grandma and Grandpa Berry brought our three little children home to enjoy the trucks, desks, dolls and doll buggies Santa brought. At 7:29 p.m. we were blessed with a 7-pound, 13-ounce baby boy, John “Jack” Walter Berry. When we called home with the news, we learned a few wheels had fallen off of the doll buggies when the big brother was giving his sisters a ride in them.

It was such a special Christmas gift — a baby boy who could always share the Christ Child’s birthday. We always celebrate Jack’s birthday after dinner with a birthday cake, candles and the whole family singing “Happy Birthday.” He has always thought it was special to have his birthday on Christmas Day when he and all of his siblings and their families are home to celebrate.

Our most beautiful tree By Jay Nelson of Jackson It was Christmas time on our ranch in the mid-1930s. I was probably 9 or 10 years old, brother Tom, three years younger, and Bill, three more years younger. Our dad had built us a small version of a hay rack on wooden runners. It was about four feet wide and five feet See CHRISTMAS, Page A5 Christmas ...

Continued from Page A1 long and was pulled by the most gentle and patient old white horse ever born. Old Prince pulled us everywhere.

Tom and I decided we were old enough to go cut our Christmas tree that year. The folks didn’t argue with us so we loaded a shovel, a very dull axe and probably a lunch for emergencies — off we went. Prince wasn’t too enthused about breaking trail through 2 feet of snow, but he went along with it.

It was about 1½ miles to the closest timber and we had two gates to shovel out. About the first tree we came to, Prince decided that one looked good to him, so we agreed. Now cutting a frozen tree with a dull axe is a project not to be taken lightly. I think we had lunch about half way through.

Anyway, we got it cut, loaded and proudly drove home with our prize.

Next, we had to build a stand for it, and since we were always building something we had a small hoard of well-used lumber and second- and third-hand nails. Our stand would have held up a 30-foot tree instead of our 6-foot one. Mom mercifully covered most of it with some green wrapping paper.

Next were decorations —- now that was in the middle of the Depression and about anything that took money just didn’t happen. We popped a bunch of popcorn on the kitchen wood stove in the frying pan and Mom found some left-over Easter egg dye, so we had an array of colored popcorn which we strung on heavy thread. Mom had about a half dozen colored glass balls which were carefully hung on the tree. Next we had about 10 little metal candle holders with clothes-pin type clips on them. They were fastened out on the ends of the branches and some four-inch long candles were placed in them. Next, three big buckets of water were carried from the spring and placed where they would be handy if needed.

Finally, the big moment arrived and the candles were carefully lit and the kerosene lamp blown out. There stood the most beautiful Christmas tree in all its glory. It only lasted about five minutes before the lamp was re-lit and the candles blown out, to prevent the house from burning down.

I don’t remember much more about the rest of that Christmas and I’m sure we fared well, but I’ll always remember that beautiful tree shining in the little log house I grew up in.

Many years later I found out the spot where we cut the tree was where Chief Joseph and his band camped the third day after the Battle of the Big Hole. Kind of ‘ neat, isn’t it?

Fast-action keeps folks in the dark By Nettie Queer of 1040 Schley Ave.

I think it was Christmas 1964, just around the time the Beatles were becoming popular. My sister, Nanci, kept asking for a record player. We each were on a $25 budget and I remember looking around for one that would be around that price. We then went window shopping in Uptown Butte and there it was in the window of Rosenberg’s Furniture Store. Immediately we notified mom and we knew it was on the Christmas list.

Christmas was around two weeks away. As soon as we came home from school we would began our search to where mom hid the record player. We searched every nook and cranny until the only place left was the attic. It had to be there.

We had to stand on the washing machine to push up the attic door and sure enough there it was. It was a gorgeous orange on the sides with a shinny white top that would open and close. We now could listen to all those tunes.

So every afternoon we would rush home from school to beat mom, who would get off work around 5:30, take turns climbing into the attic to retrieve it and sing, “She Loves You,” with the Beatles until around 5:15 p.m., and safely return it.

If you know my sister, she never could do anything without her boyfriends so sure enough, they were next to be invited. She sent her favorite one to the attic this time, but he was a little heavier than us and coming down he put his shoe through the ceiling.

We almost had a heart attack as my mom was soon to arrive. We found as much glue as possible and then mixed up flour and water to make a paste. With much prayer and a little paint we patched it up pretty darn good.

I don’t know if my parents were too busy or had too much Christmas cheer — they never did notice and we had many happy songs to sing with the Beatles on that beautiful record player.

Help arrives in time of need By Nancy (Henderson) Brancamp of 3136 Sanders Ave.

This Christmas was very memorable to me as a child. My father, Pat Henderson, was one of the unfortunate when the underground mines closed in the 1970s and businesses that worked with the mines were affected. My mom, Charlotte Henderson, did not have a full-time job at the time. They were on their last unemployment check, and having problems paying bills, putting food on the table, plus trying to figure out how to have a nice Christmas. There were two kids at home — myself and my brother, Clint.

My mom decided that we would shop at the Salvation Army and would make all of our gifts to each other. It was so much fun doing this, and to this day my mother always talks about this special Christmas when things were rough in our family.

Also this year I truly remember this occasion. We were at an Advent service at St. Joseph’s Church. We are a strong Catholic family, and thanks to my mom and dad’s faith and belief it has always been an important part of my life and always will be. We came home from church and a taxi cab was at our front door. The taxi cab driver started unloading all these groceries. My brother and I thought this was cool. My mom, on the other hand, said, “These aren’t mine.” She kept taking them out and we kept hauling them back in. There was everything, even paper and cleaning products. We overheard on the scanner who they were from, but we were not suppose to know. They came from some dear friends who also went to St. Joe’s.

My mom and our family kept quiet about it. At times it was hard not to say thank you during our time of need. But the time came for my parents to thank them. Our parish was having a Thanksgiving feast, and our priest said if there is something you are truly thankful for, tell that person. My mom felt this was the perfect opportunity. I also now have found the perfect opportunity to say thank you to these friends: you really brightened our Christmas. Also, thank you for the extra prayers I needed some 20 years ago when things were difficult. Everything worked out.

These special friends, who now live in Billings, are Cliff and Janet Mahoney. They are the children of Jack and Betty Wulf and Ray and Jerry Mahoney of Butte.

Coming Tuesday: More Christmas stories from our readers.