The Barn
One of my favorite Christmas traditions is the annual trek to the barn.
It all started because of the Joy in the Morning costumes. Joy in the Morning was a musical presented by the First Baptist Church adult choir one Easter. Actually, it ran for more than one Easter season. It is interesting to note that both Jennie and I have an uncanny ability to remember all things musical produced by FBC. Even when we weren't in the musicals. This brings to mind several other stories that will surely surface someday.
As I recall, Joy in the Morning required the adults to wear costumes and makeup. I remember thinking that this was the most wonderful and progressive thing a church service anywhere could ever muster. I suppose the choir was able to rock the boat in such a dramatic way manner in that time and place because it was "biblical times." Funny things I remember include everyone in their bathrobes or muslin robes with sashes, makeup, and myopic confusion, as eyeglasses were frowned upon b/c they didn't really exist in biblical times....the only exceptions were made for the severely visually impaired. Palm leaves. There were lots of those, too. Even the piano was moved to make space for the production.
It was a fine time, indeed, for the Baptists on 6th and Main.
But, the Easter pageant isn't the focus of this McClain story, dears.
Never one to want things to go to waste (it's the my-dad's-family-survived-America's-Great-Depression mentality hardwired within), I hatched a plan, come Christmas-time. Within the inner circle of McClains, we were seven-strong. We had access to lots of Joy in the Morning costumes, a barn, lowing cattle, a couple of dogs and a cat (and probably some field mice), and a Jesus and an understudy (Jennie's and my newborn baby dolls...girl dolls for what it's worth, but with some swaddling clothes, who's counting?). What, then, could have been more compelling than our own re-enactment of the Christmas Story?
I don't remember the proposed cast latching on to the idea. To say that my Christmas Pageant was a hard sell is an understatement.
I do remember Dad humoring me enough to walk out to the barn and clear a stage for the production.
I don't think we (I, actually) got much further than a draft of the script.
Which I still have and intend to frame the next time JoAnn runs a 50% off framing coupon in the Sunday paper.
I don't remember really how my plan fell apart.
A compromise emerged. We'd all hike up to the barn...for the experience and the ambience...to hear the account of the birth of Jesus.
So, on Christmas Eve, we all bundled up in warm things and walked to the barn. We nestled into the haybales while Dad read the story by flashlight. O Captain, we heard the story from a new and fresh perspective that evening. Everyone moved in very close together (due to the cold primarily, but I like to think that we all felt it...the magic of the moment, and that we didn't want to let go of it)....including the cows. Although, frankly, I think they were just so confused as to why so many people were huddled together in the barn in the dark on such a cold evening. Plus, they probably thought they'd get lucky with a few range cubes if they feigned hunger. We even sang a carol or two. Though it clearly wasn't as vivid as if we had been wearing bathrobes and turbans, I thought I was able to imagine what it must have been like for Mary and Joseph so many years ago. I remember looking out at the stars in the sparkling sky and thinking that Jesus would surely have approved.
Since that time (sometime in the 80s?), we have never missed a Christmas in the barn. The cast changes each year. One year the Smythes joined us and Miss Katy fell off of the top of a stack of about 5 bales high. After we all realized that she was not dead or seriously injured, we all laughed heartily and complimented her on her acrobatic skills. Some years there are cows and dogs and other animals. Some years there was hay stacked, some years, just a trailer sprinkled with hay (after Miss Katy's fall, we didn't want to take our chances). Some years we walk, some we drive. We always have to warm up afterwards with hot chocolate and a round or two of music around the piano. And gifts! Which we open on Christmas Eve because we have to share our time together with our in-laws.
Always, always, there is the walk to the barn on Christmas Eve.
It's hardly the via Dolorosa, but it is a cold, breathless walk, together, with purpose.
Every last Rockwell-ian drop of the moment is lovingly ridiculed.
And savored.
More than you can imagine.
It all started because of the Joy in the Morning costumes. Joy in the Morning was a musical presented by the First Baptist Church adult choir one Easter. Actually, it ran for more than one Easter season. It is interesting to note that both Jennie and I have an uncanny ability to remember all things musical produced by FBC. Even when we weren't in the musicals. This brings to mind several other stories that will surely surface someday.
As I recall, Joy in the Morning required the adults to wear costumes and makeup. I remember thinking that this was the most wonderful and progressive thing a church service anywhere could ever muster. I suppose the choir was able to rock the boat in such a dramatic way manner in that time and place because it was "biblical times." Funny things I remember include everyone in their bathrobes or muslin robes with sashes, makeup, and myopic confusion, as eyeglasses were frowned upon b/c they didn't really exist in biblical times....the only exceptions were made for the severely visually impaired. Palm leaves. There were lots of those, too. Even the piano was moved to make space for the production.
It was a fine time, indeed, for the Baptists on 6th and Main.
But, the Easter pageant isn't the focus of this McClain story, dears.
Never one to want things to go to waste (it's the my-dad's-family-survived-America's-Great-Depression mentality hardwired within), I hatched a plan, come Christmas-time. Within the inner circle of McClains, we were seven-strong. We had access to lots of Joy in the Morning costumes, a barn, lowing cattle, a couple of dogs and a cat (and probably some field mice), and a Jesus and an understudy (Jennie's and my newborn baby dolls...girl dolls for what it's worth, but with some swaddling clothes, who's counting?). What, then, could have been more compelling than our own re-enactment of the Christmas Story?
I don't remember the proposed cast latching on to the idea. To say that my Christmas Pageant was a hard sell is an understatement.
I do remember Dad humoring me enough to walk out to the barn and clear a stage for the production.
I don't think we (I, actually) got much further than a draft of the script.
Which I still have and intend to frame the next time JoAnn runs a 50% off framing coupon in the Sunday paper.
I don't remember really how my plan fell apart.
A compromise emerged. We'd all hike up to the barn...for the experience and the ambience...to hear the account of the birth of Jesus.
So, on Christmas Eve, we all bundled up in warm things and walked to the barn. We nestled into the haybales while Dad read the story by flashlight. O Captain, we heard the story from a new and fresh perspective that evening. Everyone moved in very close together (due to the cold primarily, but I like to think that we all felt it...the magic of the moment, and that we didn't want to let go of it)....including the cows. Although, frankly, I think they were just so confused as to why so many people were huddled together in the barn in the dark on such a cold evening. Plus, they probably thought they'd get lucky with a few range cubes if they feigned hunger. We even sang a carol or two. Though it clearly wasn't as vivid as if we had been wearing bathrobes and turbans, I thought I was able to imagine what it must have been like for Mary and Joseph so many years ago. I remember looking out at the stars in the sparkling sky and thinking that Jesus would surely have approved.
Since that time (sometime in the 80s?), we have never missed a Christmas in the barn. The cast changes each year. One year the Smythes joined us and Miss Katy fell off of the top of a stack of about 5 bales high. After we all realized that she was not dead or seriously injured, we all laughed heartily and complimented her on her acrobatic skills. Some years there are cows and dogs and other animals. Some years there was hay stacked, some years, just a trailer sprinkled with hay (after Miss Katy's fall, we didn't want to take our chances). Some years we walk, some we drive. We always have to warm up afterwards with hot chocolate and a round or two of music around the piano. And gifts! Which we open on Christmas Eve because we have to share our time together with our in-laws.
Always, always, there is the walk to the barn on Christmas Eve.
It's hardly the via Dolorosa, but it is a cold, breathless walk, together, with purpose.
Every last Rockwell-ian drop of the moment is lovingly ridiculed.
And savored.
More than you can imagine.
posted by juliebelle | 10:01 AM
6 Comments:
What a great recount of your barn trips! I just like the fact that it has become a tradition and that it is something that your family did to indulge your childhood wish. Anyway, as I have said numerous times, your family is just the best! Crazy to be laid up out in the cold, but still the best!
Didn't you love seeing the adults in our church get all geeked up for costumed musicals? I was always so happy that they were getting to have some fun for a change. And kudos to you for creating what is now a stellar multi-generational family tradition. I am sure that Jesus and David Tate will be smiling down, proud that that telling of the Easter story has inspired such a wonderful celebration of Christmas.
What a beautiful account of our annual trek to the barn. Your piece had just the right amount of humor and seriousness/tenderness. I even noted a little tear as I read and reflected on the wonderful times we've had there with family and friends. (Frank McCourt's mother said his bladder was too close to his eyes, hence his frequent crying). How about this for a coincidence? Today I purchased some new straw bales to line the trailer and placed them all around the perimeter. I also cleared a path and cut down a few weeds that had grown up since the last mowing. I had no idea you would be posting the barn tradition on your blog. Now I'm really pumped! Bring on the people, bring on the flashlights, bring on the scarves and mufflers, bring on the animals (Maybe Dutch or Doc will come; Puck has disappeared from the scene.), bring on Good Will among men and bring on the proper celebration of Christ's birthday.
What a beautiful account of our annual trek to the barn. Your piece had just the right amount of humor and seriousness/tenderness. I even noted a little tear as I read and reflected on the wonderful times we've had there with family and friends. (Frank McCourt's mother said his bladder was too close to his eyes, hence his frequent crying). How about this for a coincidence? Today I purchased some new straw bales to line the trailer and placed them all around the perimeter. I also cleared a path and cut down a few weeds that had grown up since the last mowing. I had no idea you would be posting the barn tradition on your blog. Now I'm really pumped! Bring on the people, bring on the flashlights, bring on the scarves and mufflers, bring on the animals (Maybe Dutch or Doc will come; Puck has disappeared from the scene.), bring on Good Will among men and bring on the proper celebration of Christ's birthday.
Sorry about the duplicate entry. Must have hit the wrong key.
I love your stories (as always)! I enjoyed my Christmas on a train traveling through tropical Goa. Most of the villages were decorated in Christmas lights and stars. It was different than "normal" but a wonderful experience.
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