John Pepin

“They’re looking back, too many people looking back,” – Bob Seger

It’s the time of the year that I tend to find myself thinking back, in all kinds of ways, to find out where I’ve been and where I hope to go.

As part of that annual holidays, end-of-year exercise, I like to journey back in time to the Christmases of past days and times to find out what things might have changed, stayed the same, or where they began.

For example, a newspaper article from The Times of Harbor Beach, Michigan from Jan. 2, 1914 discusses the then-new idea of cities having a community tree.

“The municipal Christmas tree idea is growing. Several large cities now erect a huge Christmas tree each year, and appropriate exercises are held on Christmas eve,” the newspaper reported.

A photo showed a giant pine tree in one of New York City’s parks, decked out in lights for the holiday season. The municipal tree there had debuted the year before.

“Singing of Christmas carols forms the most prominent part of the celebration. The idea is a splendid one, and each year sees a greater number of cities following it,” the newspaper said. “Some of the principal cities which planned to have such public trees this year were Boston, Baltimore, Pittsburgh, Cincinnati, Kansas City and Philadelphia.”

An advertisement from the Detroit Free Press in December 1913 showed assorted colors of Christmas tree candles were being sold for 10 cents a box, the same price as crepe paper tulip shades in many colors for lamps.

Electric lamps themselves, with brush brass bases and shades, with red, green, blue, yellow or pink ribbon and beads, sold for $3.50.

Gas or electric reading lamps, complete with a decorated shade, sold for $2.75.

In December 1921, The Diamond Drill of Crystal Falls published a poem by Frank L. Stanton called “The Daydreams of the Old Folks at Christmas.”

These old verses published in newspapers at Christmas are a quaint tradition we could still use now in this modern world of woe and wonder.

Stanton’s poem reads:

“Old folks, too, like Christmas; Grandfather sitting there,

Feels sad if he’s forgotten ’cause he’s in his chimney chair

He says he’s thinkin’ of the days that he no more will see,

When he was just a little boy – a Christmas boy – like me.

He listens to the fire – for it’s always talkin’ so,

And then it is he calls to mind his good times long ago

When the Christmas wind was whistlin’ through the cold and frosty nights

And children dreamed of Christmas bells and watched for Christmas lights

He doesn’t seem to hear at all the noise the children make,

For when he sits the stillest there, he’s dreamin’ wide awake!

But mother – then she tells us to all run right out and play,

For old folks hear sweet music when they’re dreamin’ day by day.

And then Grandmother – SHE comes in and sits beside him there,

And puts her hand in his, and says sweet words he loves to hear;

But what they are she’d never tell to mother or to you;

She knows that he is dreamin’ for she dreams the same dreams too.

So, Christmas comes to old folks, and it’s then they love to know

The children don’t forget ’em, though they lived so long ago!

An’ they say the sweetest present of sweet things and fair

Is a kiss on Christmas mornin’ when we climb their chimney chair”

An article from the Sebewaing Blade in Sebewaing, from December 1919, discussed the tradition of the yule log.

“In former times, Englishmen had no love for Christmas trees. Their houses were heated by means of great open fireplaces, and the bringing home of their substitute, the Yule log, was one of the great festive occasions of the year,” the newspaper said.

Every member of the family assisted in going to the forest to get a log. Young and old would join in the ceremony of bringing the log home and rolling it into the fireplace on Christmas eve.

“If the log burned steadily all night on the hearth, good luck was thought to be predicted for the year to come; if it burned out, ill luck was looked upon as inevitable,” the newspaper reported.

“Some people say that the Christmas tree is connected in some way with the ancient Egyptian custom of decorating houses with branches of the date palm at the time of the winter solstice.

“The Greeks call Christmas the “Feast of Lights,” and that makes us think of the custom of putting lights on the Christmas tree.

“Ages and ages ago, a famous minstrel named Wolfram sang of a custom of his day of going to the thresholds of houses with green branches ornamented with candles to welcome guests whom his people were eager to honor. Perhaps the Christmas tree is just a bigger growth of this beautiful custom.”

A short blurb in The Diamond Drill from December 1921 read: “A sleigh load of Sagola young people drove to Channing Sunday evening to attend the show at the Liberty Theatre. About twenty-five were in the sleigh.”

In the Christmas Eve edition, the newspaper reported on a party given by sophomores for juniors and seniors at the new school building.

The details reveal some interesting items.

“The early part of the evening was spent in peanut racing and dancing. Later each guest was given a stick of gum and was requested to make an animal from the gum. The person who made the best animal received a prize,” the newspaper said.

“Then a plum pudding contest was held. The presidents of the three classes participated in this contest. It was a very comical sight to see the three people with hands tied eating the pudding. First honors went to the junior president who at his pudding slowly but surely. A guessing game was also played.

“A delicious lunch was served in the sewing room which was prettily decorated with Christmas trees, candles and red and green crepe paper. After the refreshments were served, there was a grand march around the Christmas tree and Santa remembered each with a box of candy and peanuts. Several old-fashioned games were played and dancing followed.”

The Ironwood Daily Globe reported sad news two days before Christmas in 1924, from Worthington, Minnesota.

“One hundred sacks of Christmas mail were destroyed here early this morning when the mail car of the Chicago, St. Paul, Minneapolis and Omaha railway passenger train caught fire from an overheated stove and burned to the trucks.”

From my own childhood Christmases, I recall my mom making peanut butter cookies in the shape of camels, along with sugar cookie Christmas wreaths, trees, bells and Santa Claus faces.

I remember we had the very old-timey huge screw-in Christmas tree lights, a small, desktop, lighted nativity scene that we put on our enclosed front porch, egg nog, watching Christmas specials on television, many of them which were making their initial debuts.

There are old Christmas photos I have that show me and my brother and sisters at various ages posed with our Christmas gift hauls in front of the Christmas tree.

The older I get, the truer it is that “Christmas is for kids.”

My Christmas wishes of catalog toys, candy and money have been replaced with sentiments less materialistic and closer to my heart.

The Yale Expositor of Yale, Michigan published a poem by Charles Mackay in December 1915 called “Under the Holly Bough.”

For me, its sentiments ring true from more than a century back, right up to this present moment in time.

The verse reads:

“Ye who have scorned each other

Or injured friend or brother

In this fast-fading year,

Ye who by word or deed

Have made a kind heart bleed

Come gather here

Let sinned against and sinning

Forget their strife’s beginning

And join in friendship now

Be links no longer broken

Be sweet forgiveness spoken

Under the holly bough.”

I wish for peace and love, along with a walk in the freshly fallen snow to smell the balsam firs in all their Christmas evergreen zest. The presence of some cheery birds happy to have found my bird feeders is always a delightful sight.

I still would love some sugar cookies and a cup or two of nog to sip by the fireplace.

Simple pleasures, uncomplicated moments to relax, recharge and recover, and sharing time with the ones I love most are some of the best things I can wish for at Christmastime.

I know at some point I will find myself alone in the otherwise darkened living room with the lighted Christmas tree. I will intently sense the silence.

My wife will be curled up asleep in a chair or across the couch.

I will take a deep breath, maybe even three or four. I will be feeling clear, at peace and at home. It will be a moment I’ve waited for the entire year.

Now if those two little grandchildren of mine would only climb up on my chimney chair to grace me with a kiss on Christmas morn.

Outdoors North is a weekly column produced by the Michigan Department of Natural Resources on a wide range of topics important to those who enjoy and appreciate Michigan’s world-class natural resources of the Upper Peninsula.