December 19, 2025 • 22 mins
Bringing a tree in your house is only acceptable once a year. Do it any time outside of Christmas and people will think you're weird. Brent's got a few examples of Christmas trees this week and even goes into his struggle in keeping his favorite decoration. Stars, fishing, and flames abound on this week's "This Country Life" podcast.
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Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:05):
Welcome to This Country Life. I'm your host, Brent Reeves
from coon hunting to trotlining and just in general country living.
I want you to stay a while as I share
my experiences in life lessons. This Country Life is presented
by Case Knives from the store More Studio on Meat
Eaters Podcast Network, bringing you the best outdoor podcast that
(00:27):
airways have to offer. All right, friends, grab a chair
or drop that tailgate. I've got some stores to share.
It's all about the Christmas Tree. It's that time of
year when lots of friends and families start gathering to
(00:47):
celebrate Christmas. Regardless of gifts and activities, the one central
item or gathering spot usually has a tree of some
kind and close proximity. Christmas trees are the theme this week,
and I'm sharing a new story and one that I've
told before that's so good it'll probably be in the
Christmas rotation from now on. Before I tell you that one,
(01:12):
I'm going to tell you this one. This first story
was handed to me by the man who wrote it,
Jeremy Slum. Jeremy and his son Jacob had driven two
hours from their home near Joplin, Missouri, to meet me
(01:32):
at the Shepherd Hills Celebration of the Ozarks event I
spoke at last September. We visited for not nearly long enough,
and I could tell right away listening to them talk,
that these two were my kind of folks. Before they left,
Jeremy had to me an envelope and said, here's something
for you to read sometime. I handed it to my
(01:56):
wife Alexis, and she stuck it in my backpack. Thank
me for the stories I tell on here, and said
he hoped I enjoyed the one that he'd given me.
I opened it that night after we got back to
the hotel, and inside I found a handwritten letter. Was
well thought out and neatly written. I knew it would
(02:16):
be one to share when the time was right. Now
it is so, without further delay, here's the Christmas Tree,
with my voice using the words of Jeremy Sloan. When
I was growing up, I loved spending time with my
(02:38):
great uncle. His name was James Wooten. He was born
and raised in Arkansas, and later in life he moved
to Oklahoma. My uncle had a love for God and
the outdoors, and James loved grow in a garden, grafting
for coand trees, camping, fishing, and just enjoying nature. Now,
(03:03):
we would always get together for Thanksgiving and Christmas, and
I left two hours away in Missouri, so we didn't
get to see each other as often as we wanted.
I always cherished the time I got to spend with him.
Growing up. I'd spend a week with him in the
summer and we'd ride horses, we'd work in his garden.
We'd go camping and fishing, and always eat good food.
(03:29):
After I grew up, my uncle retired, we started a
yearly camping trip. We would meet down on the river,
and that trip became our new tradition. We always caught
plenty of fish. Sometimes we'd eat fresh caught trout for breakfast, dinner,
and supper. We spoke the same language, even though I
(03:50):
was grown and he was old enough to be my grandpa.
When we were together, we acted like a couple of kids.
On one trip, late in the fall, as we were
fishing our honey hole, we noticed a big cottonwood tree. Now,
there were many cottonwoods lining the banks by river, but
this one was full of fishing lures. It reminded me
(04:13):
of a Christmas tree. The way all the jigs and
the spinners hung down from the limbs. Those limbs stretched
out like fingers, grabbing every fly and lure it could
get its greedy hands on. Years of lures hung there,
shining in the sun and swaying in the breeze, free
for anyone adventurous enough to attempt to get them. For
(04:36):
two days, we joked about trying to recover all the
lost and abandoned tackle, but the water was way too cold,
weight and the limbs were way too high to reach.
What I didn't know was that my uncle was coming
up with a plan. On the last day of our trip,
he showed me a long stick that he had whittled
(04:57):
the notch into to act as a hook. It'd be
my job to use it to pull the limbs down
to where he could reach Bates as he waded out
into the frigid water to retrieve them. We waited for
the sun to go down, and after all the fishermen
had left before we began. My uncle waded out into
the freezing river and started collecting the lures from the
(05:20):
limbs I pulled down to within his reach. He gathered
the treasure that hung from the tree and made several
trips back and forth, each time working up enough courage
to go back out a little further and deeper from
the bank, returning from each trip with all the lures
in tackle he could hold, and we started laughing at
(05:43):
our success and couldn't stop. We'd hit the fisherman's jackpot.
After getting all we could, we hiked back to the camper.
My uncle changed in some dry clothes while I made
a pot hot coffee. We separated all the lures onto
several paper plates in the camper. We set around the
(06:03):
table admiring the flies, the jigs, the spinners, the hooks,
and the bobbers. We might not ever have to buy
tackle again. We took turns, choosing our favorites, one at
a time, back and forth until it was all evenly
divided between us. I will never forget that night. Many
(06:26):
years have passed and my uncle is no longer on
this earth, and I know that he's in the big
campground in the sky. He was my outdoor hero, and
I think about my uncle James often, like when my
kids and I go fishing or I'm just out working
in the garden. I think about him the most during
(06:47):
Christmas and the time we found the Christmas Tree of
every fisherman's dreams. Well, Jeremy, my friend, I can't thank
you enough for sharing that wonderful memory of you and
your uncle James. Stories like Jeremys aren't uniquely American, that
they are, without a doubt, the very definition of American.
(07:13):
Thank you, buddy. Now, I don't want y'all to think
I'm lazy or running out of stuff to talk about, because,
like I said, the story I'm about to tell you
I've told before. As a matter of fact, I told
you all this yarn about a year ago, and for
(07:34):
those that are interested, it was an absolute chary to
record because I couldn't stop laughing. My gal, Paul Rivera
Hansen made either sound engineer extreme. The lady who struggles
to make me sound like I know what I'm talking
about every week said it was the most start and
stops and do overs of any recording I'd ever sent her.
(07:55):
I love to be able to tell y'all that what
you hear every week is exactly what I send Reva,
but that would be a bald face lie. I may
read a paragraph I wrote three times in a row,
or mispronounce a name, or confused myself with my own writing,
to the point I have to edit the script myself
right on the spot. Then I send that whole recording,
(08:18):
including all the redos, the do overs, and the corrections,
for her to sort out in her office way up
in the frozen tundra of Bozeman, Montana. She takes all
the calamity out of that amalgamated word jumble of nonsense,
adds some music, and publishes what you good folks have
allowed me to job in your ear holes every week.
(08:43):
This story was a classic from the first time I
read it when this Country Life listener Damee Fuller sent
it to me last December. Dame is a storyteller, and
as far as I'm concerned, he should be known as
the Bard of Oklahoma. Timeless classics for the ule Tide
season include stories from generations before us that are still
(09:06):
relevant and being told today. This is one of those
that I will go to my graves saying ranks right
up there with the best of them. In eighteen forty three,
Charles Dickens penned a Christmas care In nineteen sixty six,
Jeene Shepherd wrote in God We Trust All Others paid
(09:27):
cash that was turned into a screenplay that we all
know as the movie A Christmas Store, And in twenty
twenty four, Dame Fuller emailed me the Christmas Trees. It
will be made into a movie one day, and when
it is I'm going to make a fortune selling paper
towels and depends on the theater lobby. Here it is again,
(09:51):
just as Dane sent it to me, and his words
and my voice. This is what might very well be
the best Christmas story ever. Even though it took place
roughly fifty years ago. Most of my cousins and I
(10:11):
will attest that this is a mostly factual account. Growing up.
Christmas even meant one thing, ma'am all and Papa's house.
It was a tradition of the Fullers dating back to
I believe three days after dirt was invented. R. C.
Peck and Edith Gert Fuller had a pretty big family,
(10:34):
five boys and a girl. Eventually, as kids back then did,
they all left home to start families of their own,
and soon they began bringing them back for the holidays.
Not only kids and grandkids were there, but there were
great aunts, uncles, second cousins, and so forth. By the
nineteen seventies there was approximately five hundred and ninety seven men,
(10:58):
women and children crammed that old house out in the
sticks of Muskogee County in northeastern Oklahoma every Christmas Eve.
Not really, not many, but man, it sure seemed like
it now. One particular December twenty fourth, the house was
filled to capacity. We had all eaten supper, and everyone
(11:21):
was gathered in the front room. All of us grandkids
were excited because Pap had finally said we could open presents.
Our grandparents weren't rich, In fact, they had very little. Somehow,
though every year they managed to get us all something.
This year, times must have been a little tougher than normal.
(11:43):
Instead of buying a tree, Pap had gone up the
hill with his double bitted axe and chopped down a
cedar tree a few weeks earlier. By the time the
festivities rolled around, that cedar tree had turned the color
of brown paper bag. Keep in mind, the Christmas lights
back in the seventies were of the variety that could
(12:04):
rival the temperature of the sun. Twinkle lights weren't anywhere
close to happening. Seeing as how that tree had morphed
into something akin to napalm. The adults in the room
had decided that no string of Christmas lights would be
plugged in. The grandkids tried their cow eyed best, their
angelic faces to convince Papa into plugging the men, but
(12:28):
he wouldn't budge. All of us tried, except for one,
Scott cousin. Scott was born into the middle third of
the order as far as the grandkid's ages went. However,
he was lead off on the kind of kid that
when his dad said not to do something or he'd
(12:49):
get a whooping, Scott would ask how much of one?
It was awesome being Scott's cousin back then, I could
tear the bar down, and if he was there, I'd
never get so much as looked at. Everybody just knew
Scott did it anyway. He was seated next to me
that night, and next to him was the television. Behind
(13:12):
it was the outlet that would have held the plugs
that were lying on the floor going to the lights
that were still draped onto the Christmas tree. The duty
of passing our presence that night had fallen on Ain't
Judy the lone girl of the Fuller kids, and being
a girl with five brothers, Judy had put up with
a lot in her day. Not enough, though, to have
(13:35):
obtained a calm demeanor capable of taking on anything. To
say that she is easily frazzled is an understatement. After
the first twenty or so kids had gotten their presence,
Judy was nearing the end of her rope. The sound
of shredding paper and squeals of delight and parents yelling
at their kids to await their turn had taken its
(13:57):
toll on Judy. It was at that precise moment that
Scott made his move, without tapping my knee or giving
me so much as hey, watch this. I observed him
as he slithered behind the TV and picked up the
light stream plug, eager to see the lights and maybe
(14:18):
watch him get the butt busting of his life. I
didn't say a word. He gave me a looking with
that crooked smile. He plugged in the lights. Oh what
a glorious sight. The red, blue, green, and orange bulbs
sprang into light. Nobody noticed except for me, Scott's sister Charmon,
(14:42):
and my sister Karen. The adults were too busy breaking
up fights over cap pistols and baby dolls. They had
no idea of the coup that Scott had pulled off
for about two seconds, Almost as suddenly as the lights
had appeared, they were being put to shape by the
flame shooting out from under that long dead cedar tree.
(15:04):
Now everyone had noticed. Uncle pee Wee grabbed the cord
and tried to yank it out of the socket and
then do it so he knocked over the inferno that
was once considered a Christmas tree. Things sort of got
blurry after that. The house was full of smoke. Dads
grabbed kids and started literally throwing them toward the back door.
(15:28):
Moms had run from the kitchen to catch them before
any bones were broken. Uncle Rudy waded through the sea
of kids, the wrapping paper, and the toys and made
it to the tree. He began trying to stomp out
the fire. Somebody no one knows who got the front
door open, the very door that hadn't been opened for
years because Mamma didn't want to tear a hole in
(15:51):
her carpet. Terrified me. Because I sat next to the
door and had been threatened with a switch or even
acting like I might have open, I knew, without a
doubt I would get whooped for sagging the carpet. No
matter the black hole that had just been burned into it.
Uncle Tuffy, Scott's dad, grabbed the still burning torch of
(16:12):
a tree, knocked me out of the way, and threw
it out into the front yard. Amidst the chaos, the screams,
and the smoke, still in the center of the room
was Judy running for her life with her hands clasping
her face. She was screaming, oh my gosh, over and over,
(16:33):
trying desperately to get herself and her kids out of live.
She had never made it one inch farther from the
tree than she was at the moment of combustion. She
was literally running in circles. Happened. Never made it out
of the recliner, Dad had never made it off the couch,
and both were laughing as hard as I had ever
(16:54):
seen anyone laugh. By now, Scott had made it out
from behind the rc He probably knew that he should
run while he was still able, but he was too
busy enjoying the fruits of his labor, enamored by the
sight of all the carnage. He never noticed his dad
reaching for him, and no one knows exactly what happened
(17:17):
to Scott once his dad pulled him away, but when
he came back and the tears dried up, he was
as quiet as a church mouse for the rest of
the night, Christ has averted. It wasn't long until all
the windows and doors in the house were opened to
let the smoke out, and everyone had resumed their positions,
(17:38):
though all were now wearing their coats. What was left
of the presence was handed out, and Scott never sat
next to that old TV again. And according to Dane Fuller,
Native Oklahoma, now spying on the Texans down and Childers,
that's just how that happened. A Dane. Once again, I
(18:01):
thank you from the bottom of my heart for sending
that treasure that I enjoyed telling as much as I
do hearing it myself. That whole thing plays like an
old timehole movie, complete with big haired ladies and corduroy
breeches and flat top haircuts. I can smell the cedar
burning as if I was right there when Uncle Tuffy
(18:23):
save the day. I absolutely loved this story. Thank you, buddy. Now,
still on the subject of trees, many moons ago, when
the alexis and I wears broke as Job's turkey, a
phrase my sainted grandmother Mama Slye used to describe poor folks.
It was all we could do to afford to pay attention,
(18:44):
much less by a bunch of Christmas decorations. It was
our first Christmas, and while we had a tree, we
needed a star for the top, and I bought one
at Walmart. It was cheap, kind of gaudy looking, but
it was a star, and outside of re presenting the
Star of Bethlehem, its signified our first Christmas together as
(19:04):
a family. For years now, me and my ball on
a budget star. Having weathered yearly attempts to be replaced
by something of a more cosmetically appealing nature, I have
stood my ground and told them that they can decorate
the tree every year with whatever they want. I don't
care what they hang on the limbs. They can string popcorn,
(19:25):
they can throw tensil, they can release possums, they can
hire Martha Stewart herself to come over and decorate it,
and I'll pay for it. But the first time someone
replaces that star, We're gonna have problems. I get it,
there's prettier things out there. One could argue that it
was designed and put together in the dark, and from
(19:46):
the looks of it. I couldn't prove it wasn't. But
that heavy, old, ugly silver star that sheds glitter like
a shaggy dog is more than just a tree topper.
Is the where we were at a time when getting
by was a struggle and extras for few and far between.
(20:09):
After everyone else has gone to bed and it's just
me and Whalen, I see that star sitting up there,
and I can hear the laughter echoing in a small
apartment of a new family, the beginnings of what would
evolve into our well of life as we walk together
into what has become our existence. It is a symbol
of a time when we didn't see that star is
(20:32):
settling for less, but rather looking at it as being
grateful for what we could afford. Alexis is gonna hear this, maybe,
and if she does, she's gonna roll her eyes most assuredly.
Her idea of keeping something around after it starts to
look beat up ends with me for now anyway. But regardless,
(20:55):
I don't ask for anything for Christmas. I have everything
I've ever wanted, and then so I love to give,
and I can't keep a present longer than a week
or so before I break down and give it to
whomever I bought it for, just because I can't wait
to see the expression on their face when they get it.
So my gift to me every year is a clunky
(21:20):
metal star that's as appealing on the tree as the
starter off an eight in Ford tractor. Would they both
in appearance and gross weight, or as the rest of
the Reeds crew would suggest, gross weight and gross appearance?
Who cares the star stays another year? They ain't really
(21:41):
mad about it. If they were, they wouldn't be here
with me right now to tell you all this For
me Alexis and wailing to wonder how Mary Christmas. Y'all
be careful
Welcome to This Country Life. I'm your host, Brent Reeves
from coon hunting to trotlining and just in general country living.
I want you to stay a while as I share
my experiences in life lessons. This Country Life is presented
by Case Knives from the store More Studio on Meat
Eaters Podcast Network, bringing you the best outdoor podcast that
(00:27):
airways have to offer. All right, friends, grab a chair
or drop that tailgate. I've got some stores to share.
It's all about the Christmas Tree. It's that time of
year when lots of friends and families start gathering to
(00:47):
celebrate Christmas. Regardless of gifts and activities, the one central
item or gathering spot usually has a tree of some
kind and close proximity. Christmas trees are the theme this week,
and I'm sharing a new story and one that I've
told before that's so good it'll probably be in the
Christmas rotation from now on. Before I tell you that one,
(01:12):
I'm going to tell you this one. This first story
was handed to me by the man who wrote it,
Jeremy Slum. Jeremy and his son Jacob had driven two
hours from their home near Joplin, Missouri, to meet me
(01:32):
at the Shepherd Hills Celebration of the Ozarks event I
spoke at last September. We visited for not nearly long enough,
and I could tell right away listening to them talk,
that these two were my kind of folks. Before they left,
Jeremy had to me an envelope and said, here's something
for you to read sometime. I handed it to my
(01:56):
wife Alexis, and she stuck it in my backpack. Thank
me for the stories I tell on here, and said
he hoped I enjoyed the one that he'd given me.
I opened it that night after we got back to
the hotel, and inside I found a handwritten letter. Was
well thought out and neatly written. I knew it would
(02:16):
be one to share when the time was right. Now
it is so, without further delay, here's the Christmas Tree,
with my voice using the words of Jeremy Sloan. When
I was growing up, I loved spending time with my
(02:38):
great uncle. His name was James Wooten. He was born
and raised in Arkansas, and later in life he moved
to Oklahoma. My uncle had a love for God and
the outdoors, and James loved grow in a garden, grafting
for coand trees, camping, fishing, and just enjoying nature. Now,
(03:03):
we would always get together for Thanksgiving and Christmas, and
I left two hours away in Missouri, so we didn't
get to see each other as often as we wanted.
I always cherished the time I got to spend with him.
Growing up. I'd spend a week with him in the
summer and we'd ride horses, we'd work in his garden.
We'd go camping and fishing, and always eat good food.
(03:29):
After I grew up, my uncle retired, we started a
yearly camping trip. We would meet down on the river,
and that trip became our new tradition. We always caught
plenty of fish. Sometimes we'd eat fresh caught trout for breakfast, dinner,
and supper. We spoke the same language, even though I
(03:50):
was grown and he was old enough to be my grandpa.
When we were together, we acted like a couple of kids.
On one trip, late in the fall, as we were
fishing our honey hole, we noticed a big cottonwood tree. Now,
there were many cottonwoods lining the banks by river, but
this one was full of fishing lures. It reminded me
(04:13):
of a Christmas tree. The way all the jigs and
the spinners hung down from the limbs. Those limbs stretched
out like fingers, grabbing every fly and lure it could
get its greedy hands on. Years of lures hung there,
shining in the sun and swaying in the breeze, free
for anyone adventurous enough to attempt to get them. For
(04:36):
two days, we joked about trying to recover all the
lost and abandoned tackle, but the water was way too cold,
weight and the limbs were way too high to reach.
What I didn't know was that my uncle was coming
up with a plan. On the last day of our trip,
he showed me a long stick that he had whittled
(04:57):
the notch into to act as a hook. It'd be
my job to use it to pull the limbs down
to where he could reach Bates as he waded out
into the frigid water to retrieve them. We waited for
the sun to go down, and after all the fishermen
had left before we began. My uncle waded out into
the freezing river and started collecting the lures from the
(05:20):
limbs I pulled down to within his reach. He gathered
the treasure that hung from the tree and made several
trips back and forth, each time working up enough courage
to go back out a little further and deeper from
the bank, returning from each trip with all the lures
in tackle he could hold, and we started laughing at
(05:43):
our success and couldn't stop. We'd hit the fisherman's jackpot.
After getting all we could, we hiked back to the camper.
My uncle changed in some dry clothes while I made
a pot hot coffee. We separated all the lures onto
several paper plates in the camper. We set around the
(06:03):
table admiring the flies, the jigs, the spinners, the hooks,
and the bobbers. We might not ever have to buy
tackle again. We took turns, choosing our favorites, one at
a time, back and forth until it was all evenly
divided between us. I will never forget that night. Many
(06:26):
years have passed and my uncle is no longer on
this earth, and I know that he's in the big
campground in the sky. He was my outdoor hero, and
I think about my uncle James often, like when my
kids and I go fishing or I'm just out working
in the garden. I think about him the most during
(06:47):
Christmas and the time we found the Christmas Tree of
every fisherman's dreams. Well, Jeremy, my friend, I can't thank
you enough for sharing that wonderful memory of you and
your uncle James. Stories like Jeremys aren't uniquely American, that
they are, without a doubt, the very definition of American.
(07:13):
Thank you, buddy. Now, I don't want y'all to think
I'm lazy or running out of stuff to talk about, because,
like I said, the story I'm about to tell you
I've told before. As a matter of fact, I told
you all this yarn about a year ago, and for
(07:34):
those that are interested, it was an absolute chary to
record because I couldn't stop laughing. My gal, Paul Rivera
Hansen made either sound engineer extreme. The lady who struggles
to make me sound like I know what I'm talking
about every week said it was the most start and
stops and do overs of any recording I'd ever sent her.
(07:55):
I love to be able to tell y'all that what
you hear every week is exactly what I send Reva,
but that would be a bald face lie. I may
read a paragraph I wrote three times in a row,
or mispronounce a name, or confused myself with my own writing,
to the point I have to edit the script myself
right on the spot. Then I send that whole recording,
(08:18):
including all the redos, the do overs, and the corrections,
for her to sort out in her office way up
in the frozen tundra of Bozeman, Montana. She takes all
the calamity out of that amalgamated word jumble of nonsense,
adds some music, and publishes what you good folks have
allowed me to job in your ear holes every week.
(08:43):
This story was a classic from the first time I
read it when this Country Life listener Damee Fuller sent
it to me last December. Dame is a storyteller, and
as far as I'm concerned, he should be known as
the Bard of Oklahoma. Timeless classics for the ule Tide
season include stories from generations before us that are still
(09:06):
relevant and being told today. This is one of those
that I will go to my graves saying ranks right
up there with the best of them. In eighteen forty three,
Charles Dickens penned a Christmas care In nineteen sixty six,
Jeene Shepherd wrote in God We Trust All Others paid
(09:27):
cash that was turned into a screenplay that we all
know as the movie A Christmas Store, And in twenty
twenty four, Dame Fuller emailed me the Christmas Trees. It
will be made into a movie one day, and when
it is I'm going to make a fortune selling paper
towels and depends on the theater lobby. Here it is again,
(09:51):
just as Dane sent it to me, and his words
and my voice. This is what might very well be
the best Christmas story ever. Even though it took place
roughly fifty years ago. Most of my cousins and I
(10:11):
will attest that this is a mostly factual account. Growing up.
Christmas even meant one thing, ma'am all and Papa's house.
It was a tradition of the Fullers dating back to
I believe three days after dirt was invented. R. C.
Peck and Edith Gert Fuller had a pretty big family,
(10:34):
five boys and a girl. Eventually, as kids back then did,
they all left home to start families of their own,
and soon they began bringing them back for the holidays.
Not only kids and grandkids were there, but there were
great aunts, uncles, second cousins, and so forth. By the
nineteen seventies there was approximately five hundred and ninety seven men,
(10:58):
women and children crammed that old house out in the
sticks of Muskogee County in northeastern Oklahoma every Christmas Eve.
Not really, not many, but man, it sure seemed like
it now. One particular December twenty fourth, the house was
filled to capacity. We had all eaten supper, and everyone
(11:21):
was gathered in the front room. All of us grandkids
were excited because Pap had finally said we could open presents.
Our grandparents weren't rich, In fact, they had very little. Somehow,
though every year they managed to get us all something.
This year, times must have been a little tougher than normal.
(11:43):
Instead of buying a tree, Pap had gone up the
hill with his double bitted axe and chopped down a
cedar tree a few weeks earlier. By the time the
festivities rolled around, that cedar tree had turned the color
of brown paper bag. Keep in mind, the Christmas lights
back in the seventies were of the variety that could
(12:04):
rival the temperature of the sun. Twinkle lights weren't anywhere
close to happening. Seeing as how that tree had morphed
into something akin to napalm. The adults in the room
had decided that no string of Christmas lights would be
plugged in. The grandkids tried their cow eyed best, their
angelic faces to convince Papa into plugging the men, but
(12:28):
he wouldn't budge. All of us tried, except for one,
Scott cousin. Scott was born into the middle third of
the order as far as the grandkid's ages went. However,
he was lead off on the kind of kid that
when his dad said not to do something or he'd
(12:49):
get a whooping, Scott would ask how much of one?
It was awesome being Scott's cousin back then, I could
tear the bar down, and if he was there, I'd
never get so much as looked at. Everybody just knew
Scott did it anyway. He was seated next to me
that night, and next to him was the television. Behind
(13:12):
it was the outlet that would have held the plugs
that were lying on the floor going to the lights
that were still draped onto the Christmas tree. The duty
of passing our presence that night had fallen on Ain't
Judy the lone girl of the Fuller kids, and being
a girl with five brothers, Judy had put up with
a lot in her day. Not enough, though, to have
(13:35):
obtained a calm demeanor capable of taking on anything. To
say that she is easily frazzled is an understatement. After
the first twenty or so kids had gotten their presence,
Judy was nearing the end of her rope. The sound
of shredding paper and squeals of delight and parents yelling
at their kids to await their turn had taken its
(13:57):
toll on Judy. It was at that precise moment that
Scott made his move, without tapping my knee or giving
me so much as hey, watch this. I observed him
as he slithered behind the TV and picked up the
light stream plug, eager to see the lights and maybe
(14:18):
watch him get the butt busting of his life. I
didn't say a word. He gave me a looking with
that crooked smile. He plugged in the lights. Oh what
a glorious sight. The red, blue, green, and orange bulbs
sprang into light. Nobody noticed except for me, Scott's sister Charmon,
(14:42):
and my sister Karen. The adults were too busy breaking
up fights over cap pistols and baby dolls. They had
no idea of the coup that Scott had pulled off
for about two seconds, Almost as suddenly as the lights
had appeared, they were being put to shape by the
flame shooting out from under that long dead cedar tree.
(15:04):
Now everyone had noticed. Uncle pee Wee grabbed the cord
and tried to yank it out of the socket and
then do it so he knocked over the inferno that
was once considered a Christmas tree. Things sort of got
blurry after that. The house was full of smoke. Dads
grabbed kids and started literally throwing them toward the back door.
(15:28):
Moms had run from the kitchen to catch them before
any bones were broken. Uncle Rudy waded through the sea
of kids, the wrapping paper, and the toys and made
it to the tree. He began trying to stomp out
the fire. Somebody no one knows who got the front
door open, the very door that hadn't been opened for
years because Mamma didn't want to tear a hole in
(15:51):
her carpet. Terrified me. Because I sat next to the
door and had been threatened with a switch or even
acting like I might have open, I knew, without a
doubt I would get whooped for sagging the carpet. No
matter the black hole that had just been burned into it.
Uncle Tuffy, Scott's dad, grabbed the still burning torch of
(16:12):
a tree, knocked me out of the way, and threw
it out into the front yard. Amidst the chaos, the screams,
and the smoke, still in the center of the room
was Judy running for her life with her hands clasping
her face. She was screaming, oh my gosh, over and over,
(16:33):
trying desperately to get herself and her kids out of live.
She had never made it one inch farther from the
tree than she was at the moment of combustion. She
was literally running in circles. Happened. Never made it out
of the recliner, Dad had never made it off the couch,
and both were laughing as hard as I had ever
(16:54):
seen anyone laugh. By now, Scott had made it out
from behind the rc He probably knew that he should
run while he was still able, but he was too
busy enjoying the fruits of his labor, enamored by the
sight of all the carnage. He never noticed his dad
reaching for him, and no one knows exactly what happened
(17:17):
to Scott once his dad pulled him away, but when
he came back and the tears dried up, he was
as quiet as a church mouse for the rest of
the night, Christ has averted. It wasn't long until all
the windows and doors in the house were opened to
let the smoke out, and everyone had resumed their positions,
(17:38):
though all were now wearing their coats. What was left
of the presence was handed out, and Scott never sat
next to that old TV again. And according to Dane Fuller,
Native Oklahoma, now spying on the Texans down and Childers,
that's just how that happened. A Dane. Once again, I
(18:01):
thank you from the bottom of my heart for sending
that treasure that I enjoyed telling as much as I
do hearing it myself. That whole thing plays like an
old timehole movie, complete with big haired ladies and corduroy
breeches and flat top haircuts. I can smell the cedar
burning as if I was right there when Uncle Tuffy
(18:23):
save the day. I absolutely loved this story. Thank you, buddy. Now,
still on the subject of trees, many moons ago, when
the alexis and I wears broke as Job's turkey, a
phrase my sainted grandmother Mama Slye used to describe poor folks.
It was all we could do to afford to pay attention,
(18:44):
much less by a bunch of Christmas decorations. It was
our first Christmas, and while we had a tree, we
needed a star for the top, and I bought one
at Walmart. It was cheap, kind of gaudy looking, but
it was a star, and outside of re presenting the
Star of Bethlehem, its signified our first Christmas together as
(19:04):
a family. For years now, me and my ball on
a budget star. Having weathered yearly attempts to be replaced
by something of a more cosmetically appealing nature, I have
stood my ground and told them that they can decorate
the tree every year with whatever they want. I don't
care what they hang on the limbs. They can string popcorn,
(19:25):
they can throw tensil, they can release possums, they can
hire Martha Stewart herself to come over and decorate it,
and I'll pay for it. But the first time someone
replaces that star, We're gonna have problems. I get it,
there's prettier things out there. One could argue that it
was designed and put together in the dark, and from
(19:46):
the looks of it. I couldn't prove it wasn't. But
that heavy, old, ugly silver star that sheds glitter like
a shaggy dog is more than just a tree topper.
Is the where we were at a time when getting
by was a struggle and extras for few and far between.
(20:09):
After everyone else has gone to bed and it's just
me and Whalen, I see that star sitting up there,
and I can hear the laughter echoing in a small
apartment of a new family, the beginnings of what would
evolve into our well of life as we walk together
into what has become our existence. It is a symbol
of a time when we didn't see that star is
(20:32):
settling for less, but rather looking at it as being
grateful for what we could afford. Alexis is gonna hear this, maybe,
and if she does, she's gonna roll her eyes most assuredly.
Her idea of keeping something around after it starts to
look beat up ends with me for now anyway. But regardless,
(20:55):
I don't ask for anything for Christmas. I have everything
I've ever wanted, and then so I love to give,
and I can't keep a present longer than a week
or so before I break down and give it to
whomever I bought it for, just because I can't wait
to see the expression on their face when they get it.
So my gift to me every year is a clunky
(21:20):
metal star that's as appealing on the tree as the
starter off an eight in Ford tractor. Would they both
in appearance and gross weight, or as the rest of
the Reeds crew would suggest, gross weight and gross appearance?
Who cares the star stays another year? They ain't really
(21:41):
mad about it. If they were, they wouldn't be here
with me right now to tell you all this For
me Alexis and wailing to wonder how Mary Christmas. Y'all
be careful
Host
Clay Newcomb
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