“I can still recall fondly, the preparation and the unique atmosphere in the run up to Christmas as a young child. It was delightful and a truly magical time of year. My five beautiful sisters and two wonderful brothers would set about getting the home-place ready for the big day, inside and outside. We all had our individual roles to play in preparation for the arrival of Daddy Christmas and the casual visiting of neighbours and friends over the coming weeks.
We washed, painted, and wall papered inside the house, filling the home with fresh new fragrances. I loved helping my parents whitewash the walls out in the yard and the outhouse. Cleaning the yard was a big undertaking which we all shared and enjoyed.
The anticipation and excitement of Christmas grew throughout the townland of Mourneabbey with the chanting of the children; “Christmas comes but once a year, when it comes it brings good cheer. When it goes it leaves us here, what will we do for the rest of the year”. The chanting would fill the children and neighbours with joy as everyone worked tirelessly to make the farm as charming as it could be for this special time of year.
Handmade decorations filled the home, bringing festive colour and cheer. Our parents watched and encouraged us, while we playfully created decorations using coloured crepe paper. I helped my father hang the delicate, love infused creations carefully from the ceiling. My mother created a mix of vibrant green holly, red berries, and strong ivy to place around the pictures and ornaments in the living area.
Weeks before Daddy Christmas was due to arrive, we would search the Cork Examiner newspaper for pictures of Daddy Christmas and post them all around our bedrooms. We believed the more pictures we had, the better our chances would be for gifts in terms of quality and quantity from the man in the big red suit.
Christmas began long before December for our family. We spent most of the year rearing and fattening up geese for ourselves but also for other families who would buy their special Christmas feast from my father. We grew our own turnips, parsnips, cabbage and potatoes alongside the rearing of the geese.
The fascination of the snow on the ground many years, accompanied with family outings, visiting the alluring crib in Mallow still stands out in my mind. The feeling of that cold December air and the excitement mixed with the hustle and bustle of families preparing for Christmas gatherings was almost contagious. Many Christmas cards were written, sent and received by loved ones at this time of year. Christmas week, it was tradition to give the postman, who in those days was on his bicycle, an alcoholic drink. This drink symbolised our thanks for all his work throughout the year and wished him luck for the year ahead.
My mother always took the train to Cork City for provisions which included a large, tall red candle, a leg of lamb to be eaten over the Christmas days and a barm brack from Laurence McCarthy on Daunt Street. My mother dealt with Laurence year-round and the brack was a special Christmas treat for me and my siblings. If I was lucky enough I would travel with my mother and visit the crib in the city.
As Christmas drew near, it was time to prepare the goose. The children were allowed to pluck the goose in the outhouse while wearing hats to prevent the tiny feathers getting into our hair. It was a very delicate and important job, as the flesh of the goose was thin and could tear easily. I can still hear the loud, heartfelt chant of my family at this time “Christmas is coming, and the goose is getting fat, please put a penny in the old man’s hat, if you haven’t got a penny a ha’penny will do, if you haven’t got a ha’penny God bless you. Like all things of value in those days, there was no waste. The down of the goose was kept and filled into pillows and the fat from cooking the goose was kept in jars. The fat was then used to relieve pains on adult and children’s joints.
The big day had finally arrived, it was Christmas morning. We crawled to the bottom of our beds where our stockings hung, guided only by the dim light that glowed in front of the Sacred Heart picture. We sat there laughing and feeling the texture of our stockings, giddy with excitement guessing what surprise we received.
I recall gifts of board games such as Snakes n’ Ladders and Ludo, colourful sweets and if we were very lucky maybe even a coin. When we returned from Mass, we would compare our gifts and play with our cousins from next door. Christmas day was extra special and warm for the family; it was the only day of the year the range would be lit. My mother loved to cook the bird and home-grown vegetables in the range for Christmas. The rest of the year we cooked and baked using a bastable and pots over the open fire. I still remember the aroma and flavour of my mammy’s special potato stuffing. After dinner each child was given a large slice of Christmas Cake covered in white icing, created by my older sister and a glass of lemonade. I remember eating the cake sparingly and slowly to make it last longer. As it was a special occasion and we had visitors, the adults would allow themselves an alcoholic beverage to celebrate.
Christmas night Uncle Denny visited and would sing a few songs and tell stories in front of the tall red candle. The youngest child in the house was given the honour of lighting the candle. This precious Christmas Candle burned bright, standing in the red paper-covered turnip. My father used an auger to create a hole wide and deep enough to hold this beautiful candle. When the songs had been sung and the stories were told, the family would kneel, praying and giving thanks for the many wonderful gifts we had received, the food and warmth in our home and our simple yet abundant blessings.
We lay our heads down to bed with our bellies full, our grateful hearts and drifted off to sleep thankful for the miracle of Daddy Christmas and our beautiful gifts.”
Peggy Cronin rsm
Southern Province
