RRN Online Volume 289

December 15 '01

Volume 289

RRN Tradition Christmas Memories

Christmas is now upon Christmas Wishes us, but I've not met many folks who've found the holiday spirit. No doubt, thousands will soon find the holiday spirits, and of these, some won't live to celebrate New Years. I spoke to Debbie Akins Ray as we exited the same door at church last Sunday, and she summed up my sentiments quite well.

"I'm glad to see it turning colder, so at least it will feel like Christmas," she stated.

Ah, a kindred spirit, indeed, one who appreciates a cold blast of air to heighten the holiday spirit. For us, there is sadness in our hearts for those who must endure the holiday wearing Bermuda shorts and tank tops. For those of us fortunate enough to live in north Mississippi, we like cold weather to go with our Christmas. While we had an early fall, it does not appear we shall have an early winter.

I've noticed most of my neighbors have decorated their homes for Christmas and driving at night through towns and communities in north Mississippi, I've seen enough lights and decorations to say "it's beginning to look a lot like Christmas." However, some of us need it to feel like Christmas as well, if we are to enjoy it fully.

My family is big on Christmas traditions. We enjoy watching Christmas movies, attending open house events, wrapping gifts to be opened only on Christmas Day, gathering as a family for Christmas dinner, along with a host of other traditions. Since beginning this newsletter almost six years ago, I've sought to involve readers in a longstanding tradition in my family, recalling a Christmas memory. As memories trickle in from various readers, it truly does begin to feel a lot like Christmas to me. The following memories have been contributed for your enjoyment:

Congo Christmas

by Pete Sims/ Georgia

I know I had some good Christmases when I was a child on the farm, but I'm unable to recall more than the one time I received a set of Roy Rogers' guns. However, I do recall one Christmas spent in the Congo. The year was 1965. I was in an Air Force Combat Support Group stationed at Pope Air Force base in the middle of Fort Bragg Army base in Fayetteville, NC. We were asked to go as a joint task force (Air Force, Army, and Marines) to the African Congo and rescue the Belgian missionaries who where preaching the gospel to the Congolese people and establishing churches.

My main job at the time was to help load dried food on the one and only C130 aircraft which flew the food to the people being persecuted and to bring the missionaries home safely. The Congolese government had a lot of mercenaries from all countries fighting the war with them. Their salaries were $900 a month plus all they could take in each town. The Rebels were in control of most of the Congo.

I can remember spending Christmas Eve in a foxhole because we were told the Rebels(who were being trained by the Chinese government) across the river in Braziville would attack the airport. Fortunately this did not happen.

The next day Christmas dinner was flown in for us from the Ascension Islands. The Congolese who worked with us and the mercenaries also shared the wonderful food. We were not used to this type of food because we had to bring in our own canned food (not k-rations like the Army or Marines) but soup, beans and etc. with us when we first arrived.

I will never forget the faces of those who had so little but enjoyed life so much. It really made me think about the type of life I was living(not godly at that time in my life). I still remember a special Congolese man, Pierre, and his family. I hope God blessed him and his family because they went through so much. To realize how blessed we were did not really hit me until I got back to the States safely. The people in the Congo lived in grass huts, and the average monthly income, for those fortunate enough to have a job, was $3.00.

Well, so much for Christmas away from home. Let us never forget God loves us all regardless of the way we have lived. Once we have accepted Christ as our Savior, we can partake of the great Supper with Him one day.

Desert Christmas

by Rick Greene/ Mississippi

It's been 3 years now (give or take a couple of months) since I received my first copy of the Ridge Rider News. I can honestly say that I look forward to every Monday. Monday is the day that my RRN usually arrives. The last issue in which you invited people to submit articles about their Christmas memories is one. I submit the following in response:

I can honestly say that there isn't one specific "Christmas memory" that stands out above all the others; but there are those that I do seem to remember with ease. Naturally, I cherish Christmases spent with friends and family more than those that I spent alone with a bunch of men (Marines) who all wished that we were somewhere else. However, I remember the Christmas I spent in the desert during Desert Storm. Even though I was denied witnessing the smiles of my daughter on that Christmas morning, I can't help but think that her greatest joy came when "my turn" came and I placed my phone call home.

I remember my heart palpitating as the phone rang once, twice, ...a third,....and finally four times: "Oh, no! I've missed them", I thought.

Then........., she answered, almost crying because she couldn't find the phone; knowing that I would be calling as I had promised in my letters previous and was afraid that I would have to hang up. We were allowed 5 minutes; it was great.

Blue Christmas

by Lynette Carlson/ Minnesota

I guess the Christmas memory that stands out most for me would be the one back in 1991. It was the year of our famous "Halloween Blizzard". Our state was dumped on with several feet of snow that everyone was unprepared for, especially our road crews. They keep the snow and ice from building up on our roads. In addition we were blanketed again on the day before Thanksgiving with another heavy dose of snow. Snow was piled higher than I have ever seen it. It was up as high as some street signs. There literally was no where to shovel the snow to. It was also the first year someone in my family purchased a video camera, which in retrospect has kept this 1991 Christmas memory alive for me, because it was also the last Christmas I would ever share with my mother. She passed away suddenly the following July of 1992.

I am so glad that we were able to capture that day's moments on film. My favorite being one of my mother and me dancing to Elvis Presley's song "Blue Christmas". The camera caught every step and every laugh my mom and I shared. As I twirled my mother around, we smiled and laughed at our awkward dance steps. I remember that her laugh would cause her face to light up and her whole body [to] shake. Boy, do I miss her laugh.

I will never forget the amazed look on her face when at one point I asked my mom to stoop down so I could leap frog over her as a finale to the song. That look of shock was priceless. As the song ended my mom wrapped her arms around me as she gave me a huge loving hug. Little did I know how much the meaning of that song would have for me now. And fortunately, with the video tape, I can relive this one precious moment for ever.

Last Haircut The Razor's Edge Closes

Last July, I was somewhat surprised to hear my barber state that he was only open on Fridays. It seems after much consideration, Malcolm Lindsey had decided to concentrate on buying and trading stocks, rather than ply his barbering trade.

"I can make a lot more money in the stock market than I can cutting hair," he often told me.

As I drove toward his barbershop back in September for my Friday appointment, I couldn't help thinking I was heading for my last haircut in his shop. In fact, the occasion brought to mind the words to an old Guy Lombardo tune, "The Last Roundup."

I'm heading for the last roundup

Gonna saddle old Paint for the last time and ride

So long, old pal, it's time your tears were dried

I'm heading for the last roundup.

Chorus: Git along little doggie, git along...

Of course the song related to a more somber occasion, that of one's anticipation of death and the life beyond. Yet, knowing that did not keep me from singing "I'm heading for the last haircut...git along little Taurus, git along."

I knew it would not really be my last haircut, but I had the feeling it just might be my last haircut by Malcolm Lindsey. Malcolm became my preferred barber shortly after he located his business there in 1970. Encouraged by Ernest Franklin, my cousin's husband, to try the new barber in town, I called for my first appointment.

Ernest had been quite taken with the equipment used by the new barber. I would soon learn the more appropriate title for the type of barbering done by Malcolm was "hair styling." Malcolm had been a stylist for a swank salon in Memphis, The King's Den, but decided to return to his roots in Tippah County, setting up shop in Ripley.

To hear Ernest tell it, the new barber not only cut hair, he washed and styled it, too.

"He's got a hair dryer you won't believe." Ernest related. "It's a handheld dryer. He uses it for styling, and it gets hot. I saw him demonstrate it by setting a cigarette paper on fire with it."

I was somewhat skeptical about having someone style my hair with an appliance that could set fire to paper, but Ernest was convincing.

"Look," Ernest insisted, "When you go in, he'll offer to wash your hair. You don't have to get it washed, but he's gonna' wet it down to cut it anyway, and it's only a couple of more bucks to get the works."

I was a little nervous about all that I was hearing, because I'd never been to a barber for anything but a haircut, and here I was on the verge of having someone wash my hair, cut it, and then style it. I was never comfortable with drastic changes in hairstyles, especially for me. When I was in high school, the flattop became a popular hairdo. It was a variation on the crewcut, but as a youth that combed and shaped his hair with Brylcream or Vitalis, the flattop remained too much of a change for me to risk looking stupid. I can't tell you how relieved I was the day I learned that freshman hazing (especially shaving the heads of boys) had been banned by most colleges, including the ones I planned to attend.

"There's one more thing, I've not told you," Ernest stated, "You have to sit under a hairdryer, the kind used in a beauty parlor."

"What!" I exclaimed. "Sit under a hairdryer in a room full of men and have them all staring at me?"

"It's not as bad as it sounds," Ernest reassured. "Most of them will have to do the same thing, too. Anyway, he'll cut someone else's hair while yours is drying. When you're done drying, he'll style your hair and spray it with hairspray."

Three years earlier, I might not have made that appointment, but I was married in '67 and marriage tends to give one an entirely different perspective on life. When it comes to dealing with change, there's nothing quite like getting married.

More than thirty-one years after that first appointment, I made my last appointment with Malcolm Lindsey. We have since said our mutual good-byes to one another through email correspondence. At the time of my last haircut, Malcolm was uncertain how much longer he could keep the shop open, so there was no real sense of finality during my last visit.

Malcolm had knee replacement surgery a few weeks after my last haircut and has since closed his business for good. I'm not certain how many others can boast the same facts that belong to my son, but for Jason, Malcolm Lindsey was the only barber he ever knew. Last month, following a question as to whether or not his barbershop was officially closed, Malcolm wrote the following to thank me for my patronage and to invite me to fish with him next spring.

Yes, Razor's is CLOSED for good I hope. I made the decision before I decided to have the knee fixed, which by the way is doing real good now. It will take a year to get as well as I will [like], but it is already better than before the surgery.

Wayne, I'm sure I expressed my deep appreciation for the customer support you & your family have given me these past 31 years. I could not have nor did I have a better customer, PLUS a good friend with whom I always enjoyed the time spent.

I still remember that BIG Bass which took [struck] your little special frog in that swamp where I took you. That had to be a real HOG, and I bet you haven't forgot it either. I'll truly miss customers like you, but there will be many I would hope I never lay eyes on again.

Come see me some time and we might even go fishing next spring if you can swing it.

Thanks again for the customer support and your friendship.

No, I've not had my last haircut, at least not unless I die before my next appointment, but I've had my last haircut by Malcolm Lindsey at The Razor's Edge in Ripley, MS.

Bodock Beau Great Truths About Life

I've seen the following on the Internet and may have published parts of it before. Thanks go to Lisa Rolik for submitting it.

GREAT TRUTHS ABOUT LIFE - THAT LITTLE CHILDREN HAVE LEARNED:
1) When your Mom is mad at your Dad, don't let her brush your hair.
2) If your sister hits you, don't hit her back as they always catch the second person.
3) You can't trust dogs to watch your food.
4) Don't sneeze when someone is cutting your hair.
5) Don't wear polka dot underwear under white shorts.
6) The best place to be when you're sad is Grandpa's lap.

GREAT TRUTHS ABOUT LIFE - THAT ADULTS HAVE LEARNED
1) Raising teenagers is like nailing Jell-O to a tree.
2) Wrinkles don't hurt.
3) Families are like fudge . . . mostly sweet, with a few nuts.
4) Today's mighty oak is just yesterday's nut that held its ground.
5) Laughing is good exercise. It's like jogging on the inside.
6) Middle age is when you choose your cereal for the fiber, not the joy.

REAT TRUTHS ABOUT GROWING OLD:
1) Growing old is mandatory; growing up is optional.
2) Forget the health food. I need all the preservatives I can get.
3) When you fall down, you wonder what else you can do while you're down there.
4) You're getting old when you get the same sensation from a rocking chair, that you once got from a roller coaster.
5) It's frustrating when you know all the answers, but nobody bothers to ask you the questions.

6) Time may be a great healer, but it's a lousy beautician.

THE FOUR STAGES OF LIFE:
1) You believe in Santa Claus.
2) You don't believe in Santa Claus.
3) You are Santa Claus.
4) You look like Santa Claus.

SUCCESS DEFINED IN A CIRCLE
At age 4 . . . not wetting in your pants.
At age 12 . . . having friends.
At age 16 . . . having a drivers license.
At age 20 . . . having sex.
At age 35 . . . having money.
At age 50 . . . having money.
At age 60 . . . having sex.
At age 70 . . . having a drivers license.
At age 75 . . . having friends.
At age 80 . . . not wetting in your pants.

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