There is something nostalgic about the old-time Christmas. It belongs to a past era like the horse and buggy, but memories of it bring a smile and often a tear to the eye.A Texas ranchwoman told this story about a recent Christmas. She and her husband, a busy ranchman, decided to drive to Fort Worth and spend Christmas with their two grandchildren, Jimmie, eight, and Susie, six. Before leaving home, they cut a small, native cedar tree from the rocky hillside and put it in the trunk of the car. For several weeks before their trip she had been sitting up later than usual each night, her nimble fingers busy. Now, along with the tree, a box of homemade Christmas gifts, likeshe and her husband cherished when they were small, was also placed in the trunk of the car. It included knitted mittens of bright red and green for both children; a rag doll, fully clothed for Susie, and a handsome sweater for Jimmie. There were scrapbooks for both, pasted full of lovely, colored pictures. (How well she remembered the wonderful scrapbooks her mother had made for her many years ago, when magazines were rarities and were saved all year for Christmas.) There were boxes of gingerbread menfor each child and sugar cookies covered with miniature colored candies. There were red Santas, cut from cardboard, and strings of popcorn to trim the tree.
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