Gold Tinsel and Colored Lights

I grew up poor.  That's not an excuse or even a complaint.  I didn't know I was poor until I went to Jr. High School at Cloverdale. Definitely an upscale neighborhood in Old Montgomery. Within a few months I realized "Oh, gosh, we are poor".  Up until that time I was like all the other children in the Oak Park area.  The boys, who out numbered the girls by 10 to1, all grew up to be athletes.  Most were good enough to secure college scholarships and better their lives beyond the hopes of their parents.  The girls I seem to have lost contact with.  My father worked hard and we got by.  Sometimes we did without.  Nothing we had to have.  If the child up the street doesn't have a lot more it seems OK to you and you don't feel that you are underprivileged. Even if you live on a dirt road like we did, somehow you don't think of yourself in terms of what you don't have.  You see yourself with a room of your own, plenty to eat and clean clothes. Sharing one bathroom, that would now cause panic in me, but we did it and it didn't seem horrible, certainly not tragic.  Though we were poor and often struggled, our home was always decorated for Christmas and Santa always came and brought most of what we had on our list. I come from a long line of "poor white trash decorators".  Our house was trimmed in the old timey large colored lights which now would embarrass me to death.  A wooden cut out Santa was on the roof, a sleigh strung across the yard.  Snowmen and carolers stood out front.  A Nativity.   Spotlights highlighted a wreath on the door and all the junk in the yard.  Garland on the aluminum carport.  The tinsel kind.  Bing Crosby and Elvis singing carols on a radio in the hall. For a while we had a pink aluminum Christmas tree and sometimes a spinner that changed colors with each rotation. I may choose fairy lights and burgundy ribbons but I don't believe that my "politically tasteful decor" says Merry Christmas with any more love than our little house on East Second Street.  Nor do I believe that my grandchildren will grow up in the same safe and loving environment that I did where we learned to work hard, strive for more and yet give generously to all who were in need.  By the time I reached high school my father's 10 hr days had paid off and we were very comfortable.  As Christmas draws near I am reminded of all I have now and how fortunate I was to be a  daughter of the South and the child of my parents. I am proud to say I have a couple of nephews who'd gladly add the cut out Santa to their yard and if I could find one, that pink aluminum tree would look great in my bedroom. As I write this, I realize its snowing in the North Georgia Mountains.  We may have another white Christmas.  This weekend will be the town Christmas Parade and with any luck all us Hillbillies will be covered in gold tinsel and colored lights.