Dad’s Fur Coat
My father had a decades long bromance with the District Attorney of Baton Rouge, Sargent Pitcher. Sarge, and his wife Charlie, would occasionally drive up to spend an evening visiting Valhalla and telling stories. But Dad and Sarge’s most cherished time together was hunting and fishing, including trips to Nebraska to hunt pheasant. And during football season, Sarge would invite Dad, and often me, to LSU football games where we sat in the press box. Dad and Sarge just loved being together.
One Christmas, a very large and beautifully wrapped present appeared under the tree. The card read something like: “To Marshall, your most affectionate friend, Sarge.” I remember Mama being a bit put off by how fancy and overly done the wrapping was for one man’s gift to another man. When it came time to open gifts, Sarge’s box was placed in Dad’s stack and Mama wanted him to open it right off. But Dad passed over it for other gifts until it was the only one left unopened. Dad then carefully unwrapped it – preserving the ribbon and paper from his fond friend. He opened the box and inside was a seal skin fur coat. Mama was just aghast that Sargent Pitcher would spend so much money on Dad’s gift! Dad took it out and attempted to put it on, but it was too small. He looked at Mama and said, “It doesn’t fit me, why don’t you try it on.” Only then did Mama and the rest of us catch on that this was Dad’s extravagant gift to his now tearful wife. That that was the most appreciated and unexpected Christmas gifts Dad ever gave Mama.
The Mesmerizing Christmas Tree
Fast forward a few years when I was about 15. Customarily, around a week before Christmas, we would go out and cut down the cedar tree that had been identified sometime earlier to serve as our Christmas tree. Our main hall ceiled was 14′ so the tree would typically be 12-13 feet tall and would be placed at the south end of the hall next to the back porch. On this occasion, the night before we were to go get the tree, there was an ice storm – a rare occurrence, especially in December. When we got up that next morning, everything outside was coated in ice. It was a bright day and the whole world glistened wherever you looked. The tree Dad had found was on Birnamwood, about four miles away on the east side of the road to Woodville.
Despite the heavy ice, Mama, Dad, and I took the truck and a 16′ flatbed trailer and went to get the tree. We crunched through the ice coating of the high grass and bushes, leaving footprints that were inches deep, and came upon the chosen tree. It was off to itself and perfectly coated with a gorgeous blanket of glistening ice crystals. It was truly the most beautiful tree any of us had ever seen. We carefully cut it down and were able to get the trailer close enough to the tree so that we loaded it on the trailer without disturbing the ice coating very much. Dad drove slowly home and brought the tree around to the front of the house so that we could get it through the double doors between the front porch and the hall. Alease, who I will discuss future in another story, and Spot helped bring the tree into the hall and erect it in the stand next to the back-hall doors. We all stepped back in awe of the magnificent tree. No one had ever seen a more beautiful Christmas tree than this one. (Photos were taken but alas I have been unable to find one.)
As you can imagine, within 30 minutes of being inside the warm house, the ice all melted, soaked the carpet, and made a mess. And yet, I don’t remember anyone saying what a stupid idea it was to put the crystal tree inside the house. Clearly, the tree mesmerized all of us.
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