Holiday Memories
A couple months ago I was hit by an irresistible urge to revisit some key places of my
childhood, and so I booked my flight and took off for a 10-day trip down Memory Lane. The
main focus of my urge was my grandmother’s home in Morgantown, West Virginia. It was a
2-hour-plus drive from my Maryland home, but we visited her every weekend. Even though
she died when I was five, I still remember vividly those Sunday dinners of indescribably
delicious fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, and corn of the cob fresh from her
garden. She insisted on placing an entire chunk of butter on the cob before taking each bite,
prompting witnesses at the table to exclaim, “She likes a little corn with her butter!”
My grandmother’s house today.
My dad’s sister’s son still lives in that house—my dad’s father and his father built it in 1923.
Let me tell you, when I pointed my rental car down the street and caught site of the house
for the first time in 23 years, I was teary-eyed: It hasn’t changed one bit. The inside of the
house remains unchanged, too, down to the living room fireplace with built-in bookcases on
both sides and the kitchen with its white double range that my grandmother cooked those
fabulous dinners on. Even though now it takes a spoon wedged behind the handle to hold
the oven door closed, the charm has not been tarnished.
Mom, Grammy McCreery holding me,
Aunt Christine, Dad, Aunt Margaret.
When I was little, we spent every Christmas in this
beloved place. Santa Claus visited our home in Maryland
early on Christmas Eve so we could pack up the car
and head to Morgantown to wake up there Christmas
morning. I still have a treasured gift from my grammy
from one of those precious holidays—a tiny heart locket
engraved with my initials.
As I grow older, I appreciate all the wonderful
memories my parents created for me. This holiday season,
I hope your family makes some of its own memories,
knowing that in years to come your children will look
back and realize that they didn’t know these moments
would be so fleeting. Don’t take them for granted, and
take lots of photos. In 20 or 30 or 50 years, someone will
be so glad you did.
Enjoy!
Deborah Thompson
Executive Editor