THE CELEBRATION By Shirley B Nichols A true dream of a dream A small flicker of a flame appeared a moment after the touch of the sulfur stick was brushed across the small round stone, and the dark dawn was soon aflicker with a cozy glow lighting the small kitchen. Soft glowing ambers were stirred into a quick lick of a happy flame that danced over the hot coals of yesterday. Two women floated about the room, their long dresses tipping over the dirt floor as they cooperatively unfolded and then spread the worn linen cloth over a well scrubbed wooden table. Then just as the taps of metal against metal rang out yonder near the barn, they glanced at each other and smiled. It was going to be a very special day. A glimmer of dawn's first light brightened the eastern sky and spread over a small group of men huddled around the barrel shaped object of their attention. A strange lump of concrete, shaped by human hands so many years before, it was hard to imagine how it felt the day they gathered in the same way. just as these, and put this big container together. The hammers and awls slowly chipped away the outer coat of the amazing container. Just then as they had hoped, appeared metal painted a dull yellow. The color exposed to the light of day for the first time in two hundred and fifty years to the day. The group of men shuddered as one when the realization of what they were about to see griped their thoughts. Then with more rapid taps of the mallets they hurriedly worked to unwrap the past from its enduring wrapper. Large chunks of concrete fell away and like a small chick from its shell the yellow barrel settled on the soft bed of straw. There was a moment of silence as each man in his own way reached out to touch the past. Not a word was said as the barrel was lifted on end. Then with tiny taps, a pair of huge hands began to break away the weld that had sealed the precious package all those years. Before long a few drops of moisture began to seep from under the lid. 'What was it and was it safe to go on'? Then as though they had spoken the same thoughts, they lifted from the ground while cradling this most unusual container. A bright new day was well on its way when they reached the door to the cozy kitchen. Many ladies, with children clinging, had arrived from the village and gathered in the warmth and a soft hum of happy mutterings filled the room. The air was electric with anticipation. Hearts raced with excitement. Children suddenly grew silent, and cur pups retreated to a safe place behind the butter churn. Broad smiles had turned into quick glances as the realization of the big event was here at last. Thoughts were of how to preserve and present the contents of the barrel as though the past generations had come to guide the hands that would give the contents the light of a new day. It was decided that to open the container by removing the lid would allow the contents to be damaged, so the barrel was turned upside down with the lid was a tray. Suddenly the room was filled with strange but luscious smells, moisture began to seep from the contents and spread around the lid. Like a lovely spring garden, colors of plum and shades of blue, and beautiful reds, and earthen browns too. Heat was rising from the mixture. And no longer could they wait in awe, and hurriedly but carefully they lifted the barrel from its contents. First came a luscious layer of sweet smelling fruit, then a layer of steaming vegetables, and more! A third layer, smaller, but just as lovely was stacked atop the fourth layer. Then another and another in the shape of a cake, the barrel was lifted from the most beautiful celebration cake ever made. Steam rose from the layers and sizzling sounds came from a fresh cooked meal meant for a village. It wasn't long before chairs were carried to the table and a tight circle of friends gasped and marveled at such as this. What a sight to behold. Later there would be time for the wondering, but for now there was only time for "The Celebration." The first layer was small but worthy of its perch. It was a layer of Indian cornbread covered with wild berries, pheasant and grouse. There were peppers, green, yellow and sun kissed red. Sprigs of wild onions covered a layer of wild rice, and chunks of turkey were placed with delight. The contribution of the American Indian was evident. Each plate was filled with some of each and soon the layer was gone. But their thoughts were about the people who had come together so long ago to gather and prepare. The second layer was hot brown bread cradling plumb stuffed quail and vegetables, such as carrots, and beans, and steaming white turnips filled the center. Garnishes wrapped the layer in a lovely ribbon of greens. And Spanish olives were perched atop so there was enough for all. The third layer, now exposed was exciting to see and the smell was heavy with the scent of a home cooked meal. There were biscuits fat with freshly churned butter, and lamb chops two fingers thick. Five piles of green mint jelly garnished each chop and was ready for eating. The English were there to join the group. The fourth layer was even more initiating by the presentation of cabbage and Irish potatos, too steamy to touch. They soon were enjoying the a favorite German kraut and sausage and hurried to sample the goodies. The fifth layer was pasta, all covered with sauce, and the gems of the sea had been gathered for this feast. There were fishes the colors of the sea. There was squid, and large slices of eel, and shells with clams hiding inside. And spread on top of most of the feast was cheese from Italy made sour and sweet, Sun kissed olives were placed here and there, and pine nuts and capers were spread everywhere. There was a layer so large it took lots of space and they noticed there were many sweet tasting things. There was shrimp from the Orient and chilies from the south, and pineapples and oranges were steaming over trout. And pork was there in a basket of yams , and winking blackeyed peas were fresh and sweet. They finished that layer quick in a hush. Not one had left this magnificent feast, as nearing the end they now could see. That each layer had been gathered and cooked with thought and given they had and all from their hearts. Now they had reached the bottom at last, they noticed that nothing was left out of the meal. And with delight they all exclaimed! "Why look everyone there is even desert!!" The last layer was large and had held up the stack, but nothing in it would ever be left back. Oh, there was cobbler filled with bright red cherries, and fruits of the forest like plump dewberries just as they were gathered that day. They had put in crumpets, and tiny tea cakes, and hard rock candies made a fine feast. There was apple pie, peach, and blueberry too. And how could they have forgotten the blackberry stew. The layer was spooned up to each out reached plate and soon what was left only a crumb or two. There was silence and smiles and grins from the kids and kind moist eyes were on a face or two. Today was the day that this country would share the day the families had gathered together and thought each of you. They were just like us and had not much but they worked hard and gathered whatever they had. They were thinking of all who would gather one day to open their gift of love and share. So when you are lonely or gathered in groups, remember the celebration given to you. Share what you have in the style of our ancestors. They were generous and caring and gave it all to you. I wonder if others will remember us , as loving and sharing and enjoy our gifts, too. I dream of that day when we are gone, and struggle to see a gathering there, too. The fog is heavy and way too thick and its hard to see if they gather as quick. Will tradition be there on another predawn, or just a flicker of sun and then be gone? God? Please Bless America e-mail : sbraveart@eatel.net Back To: The Rest of The Story Copyright/Shirley B Nichols/1993/2010
THE CELEBRATION
By
Shirley B Nichols
A true dream of a dream
A small flicker of a flame appeared a moment after the touch of the sulfur stick was brushed across the small round stone, and the dark dawn was soon aflicker with a cozy glow lighting the small kitchen. Soft glowing ambers were stirred into a quick lick of a happy flame that danced over the hot coals of yesterday.
Two women floated about the room, their long dresses tipping over the dirt floor as they cooperatively unfolded and then spread the worn linen cloth over a well scrubbed wooden table. Then just as the taps of metal against metal rang out yonder near the barn, they glanced at each other and smiled. It was going to be a very special day.
A glimmer of dawn's first light brightened the eastern sky and spread over a small group of men huddled around the barrel shaped object of their attention. A strange lump of concrete, shaped by human hands so many years before, it was hard to imagine how it felt the day they gathered in the same way. just as these, and put this big container together.
The hammers and awls slowly chipped away the outer coat of the amazing container. Just then as they had hoped, appeared metal painted a dull yellow. The color exposed to the light of day for the first time in two hundred and fifty years to the day. The group of men shuddered as one when the realization of what they were about to see griped their thoughts.
Then with more rapid taps of the mallets they hurriedly worked to unwrap the past from its enduring wrapper. Large chunks of concrete fell away and like a small chick from its shell the yellow barrel settled on the soft bed of straw. There was a moment of silence as each man in his own way reached out to touch the past.
Not a word was said as the barrel was lifted on end. Then with tiny taps, a pair of huge hands began to break away the weld that had sealed the precious package all those years. Before long a few drops of moisture began to seep from under the lid. 'What was it and was it safe to go on'?
Then as though they had spoken the same thoughts, they lifted from the ground while cradling this most unusual container. A bright new day was well on its way when they reached the door to the cozy kitchen. Many ladies, with children clinging, had arrived from the village and gathered in the warmth and a soft hum of happy mutterings filled the room. The air was electric with anticipation. Hearts raced with excitement. Children suddenly grew silent, and cur pups retreated to a safe place behind the butter churn.
Broad smiles had turned into quick glances as the realization of the big event was here at last.
Thoughts were of how to preserve and present the contents of the barrel as though the past generations had come to guide the hands that would give the contents the light of a new day.
It was decided that to open the container by removing the lid would allow the contents to be damaged, so the barrel was turned upside down with the lid was a tray.
Suddenly the room was filled with strange but luscious smells, moisture began to seep from the contents and spread around the lid. Like a lovely spring garden, colors of plum and shades of blue, and beautiful reds, and earthen browns too. Heat was rising from the mixture. And no longer could they wait in awe, and hurriedly but carefully they lifted the barrel from its contents.
First came a luscious layer of sweet smelling fruit, then a layer of steaming vegetables, and more! A third layer, smaller, but just as lovely was stacked atop the fourth layer. Then another and another in the shape of a cake, the barrel was lifted from the most beautiful celebration cake ever made.
Steam rose from the layers and sizzling sounds came from a fresh cooked meal meant for a village. It wasn't long before chairs were carried to the table and a tight circle of friends gasped and marveled at such as this. What a sight to behold. Later there would be time for the wondering, but for now there was only time for "The Celebration."
The first layer was small but worthy of its perch. It was a layer of Indian cornbread covered with wild berries, pheasant and grouse. There were peppers, green, yellow and sun kissed red. Sprigs of wild onions covered a layer of wild rice, and chunks of turkey were placed with delight. The contribution of the American Indian was evident. Each plate was filled with some of each and soon the layer was gone. But their thoughts were about the people who had come together so long ago to gather and prepare.
The second layer was hot brown bread cradling plumb stuffed quail and vegetables, such as carrots, and beans, and steaming white turnips filled the center. Garnishes wrapped the layer in a lovely ribbon of greens. And Spanish olives were perched atop so there was enough for all.
The third layer, now exposed was exciting to see and the smell was heavy with the scent of a home cooked meal. There were biscuits fat with freshly churned butter, and lamb chops two fingers thick. Five piles of green mint jelly garnished each chop and was ready for eating. The English were there to join the group.
The fourth layer was even more initiating by the presentation of cabbage and Irish potatos, too steamy to touch. They soon were enjoying the a favorite German kraut and sausage and hurried to sample the goodies.
The fifth layer was pasta, all covered with sauce, and the gems of the sea had been gathered for this feast. There were fishes the colors of the sea. There was squid, and large slices of eel, and shells with clams hiding inside. And spread on top of most of the feast was cheese from Italy made sour and sweet, Sun kissed olives were placed here and there, and pine nuts and capers were spread everywhere.
There was a layer so large it took lots of space and they noticed there were many sweet tasting things. There was shrimp from the Orient and chilies from the south, and pineapples and oranges were steaming over trout. And pork was there in a basket of yams , and winking blackeyed peas were fresh and sweet. They finished that layer quick in a hush.
Not one had left this magnificent feast, as nearing the end they now could see. That each layer had been gathered and cooked with thought and given they had and all from their hearts.
Now they had reached the bottom at last, they noticed that nothing was left out of the meal. And with delight they all exclaimed! "Why look everyone there is even desert!!"
The last layer was large and had held up the stack, but nothing in it would ever be left back. Oh, there was cobbler filled with bright red cherries, and fruits of the forest like plump dewberries just as they were gathered that day. They had put in crumpets, and tiny tea cakes, and hard rock candies made a fine feast. There was apple pie, peach, and blueberry too. And how could they have forgotten the blackberry stew. The layer was spooned up to each out reached plate and soon what was left only a crumb or two. There was silence and smiles and grins from the kids and kind moist eyes were on a face or two.
Today was the day that this country would share the day the families had gathered together and thought each of you. They were just like us and had not much but they worked hard and gathered whatever they had. They were thinking of all who would gather one day to open their gift of love and share.
So when you are lonely or gathered in groups, remember the celebration given to you. Share what you have in the style of our ancestors. They were generous and caring and gave it all to you.
I wonder if others will remember us , as loving and sharing and enjoy our gifts, too. I dream of that day when we are gone, and struggle to see a gathering there, too. The fog is heavy and way too thick and its hard to see if they gather as quick. Will tradition be there on another predawn, or just a flicker of sun and then be gone?
God? Please Bless America
Back To: The Rest of The Story
Copyright/Shirley B Nichols/1993/2010
