It's All Sugar - A Christmas Story

Dear Boo and Bubble,

I never knew your great, great grandfather John Wesley Kendrick.  The only points of reference to him in my life were a small, framed photo portrait that hung on the wall in great granddaddy Schaefer’s bedroom, and his offspring who played a very vital role in my life.  Your great, great grandmother Mattie married him after his first wife died and left him with four sons – Charlie, John Oliver, William and Frank.  Schaefer and your great, great aunt Katherine were his children by Mattie.

Interestingly enough, Charlie, the oldest of the four boys, was only about six years younger than his new step-mother which could have caused a great deal of friction.  But, she assumed the household responsibilities with such a firm yet loving management style the boys came to hold her in true respect.  Even though she never could take the place of their mother, Mattie grew to be an ample, comfortable surrogate.  When their two half-siblings came along, the four brothers offered no less affection than they had shown each other over the years.

Charlie, John Oliver and Frank all three married and had children.  William, however, remained a bachelor all his life.  He suffered from acute deafness as a child which required him to wear hearing aids.  The condition altered his speech patterns making them nasally in sound but still distinguishable.  By the time I was born, William lived in Hendersonville, NC, and worked at Freeman’s News Stand where patrons could purchase newspapers from across the U.S., magazines, paperback books and assorted candies.  He was by no means prominent in Hendersonville, but his plump stature, ready smile and joviality made him well known to the lawyers, doctors and bankers who stopped by Freeman’s every morning for their chosen source of news. 

Once we moved to 3 Lakecrest Drive, William spent every Christmas with us in Greenville. The routine was always the same.  On the 22^nd of December, William’s good friend, whom I always knew as Mizz Judy, drove him from Hendersonville to our house.  This schedule gave him plenty of time to visit with Mattie, who lived with us in a basement apartment, and his brothers who were well within driving distance.   It also allowed time for Mom, your great Mamaw Mary, to figure out what to do with the turkey William always brought.  Invariably it was so large she had to remove a rack in the refrigerator to make it fit.

Let me back up bit…back to Mizz Judy.  I never knew much about her, like whether she was married or not.  She and Uncle Bill certainly appeared platonic, not boyfriend and girlfriend.  Maybe she befriended him through church or had just come to know him with frequent stops at Freeman’s.  Regardless of the relationship, she magically materialized every December 22^nd on our front stoop with Bill, all of his gifts and the gigantic turkey.

I did know one thing for sure, though.  Mizz Judy was HUGE!  She weighed close to 250 pounds if she weighed an ounce and had to drive a big, old fancy Cadillac because of it.  Her deep auburn hair swooped away from her forehead into a multi-curled beehive atop her head.  The style revealed a beautiful, full face punctuated by red lips and almost as red rouge on her milky white skin.  Mizz Judy dressed to the nines always.  If she had any self consciousness about her weight, you’d never guess it with her wondrous, deep laugh. 

Christmas of 1956, your great uncle Gene was two-and-a-half.  Although not quite old enough to understand all the nuances of the season, he loved the tree and lights and presents…and particularly all the increased activity around the front door.  No matter where he was in the house, when the bell rang, he scampered off through the living room to the door, yelling “I’ll get it” all the way. 

Just tall enough to reach the knob, he prided himself in being able to pull the heavy door open without falling over.  Once he accomplished this heroic task, however, he had to look straight up through the top-half open portion of the Georgian screen door in order to see who was there.  By this time, mom arrived to supervise.

December 22^nd, mid-afternoon, and we three kids hunched over the kitchen table decorating gingerbread men and stabbing gum drops on a plastic gum drop tree.  Ding Dong, Ding Dong.  The front door bell rang. 

“I’ll get it!”  Gene shrieked with delight almost flipping over the ladderback chair on which he stood.  He whipped around the kitchen door into the living room.  Mom stopped for a few seconds to wipe off her hands – a few seconds I’m sure she always wished she could reclaim.

On tiptoe, Gene tugged at the front door.  It sluggishly budged in his hands and slid open.  He looked up into the screen opening.  There, filling every square inch of the space, with her beehive hairdo, red lips and almost as red rouge, was Mizz Judy. 

Gene retracted slightly, mesmerized, but only for a second.

“Gosh……you’re fat!” he breathlessly proclaimed with the raw honesty of a toddler just as Mom rounded the corner of the entrance hall.

Your great grandmother, was a wonderful person.  The granddaughter of Quakers, she found it almost impossible to even swat a fly, much less hurt somebody’s feelings.  She sized up the situation at the door – Gene on one side having uttered the truth; Mizz Judy on the other having heard it. 

Without a moment’s hesitation, she thrust the screen door open and said with such conviction that even the Devil would have softened– “And it’s ALL SUGAR!”