Evening star., 1951-12-23
By Jessie Font Evons

py Jessie Font eVonS
The miracle Of the Christmas
trees Of today with the glow of
electric lights. the sheen of tinselt
and the magic of ornaments that
capture the dreams Of childhood
in their shining facets. are the
glory Of our Yuletide season. But
the Christmas tree which gave me |
a truly unforgettable thrill that
memory has never dimmed-I
wasn't q tree at all.
It was an ironing board dressed |
up In a clean white sheet, in my
childhood home. in what was then
an outpost Union Pacific railroad
junction and the boom town Of
Ogden, Utah. We children trimmed
it ourselves too. during q snow
storm that rivaled Whittier's
"Snowbound." Our deeply salts
flying result was achieved under
the inspiration and guidance Of
our little Virginia mother, Mariana
Mears FAINT of Accomack County
in the Eastern Shore region. It
was she who gave it the glory and
the spirit of Christmas under
handicaps that would have dis:
mayed one less courageous or re-
sourceful.
Ogden lies in q valley trimmed
by the great snow covered ranges
lof the Wasatch and Unitah ranges
OF the Rocky Mountains. In its
Ipioneer days there wasn't a tree
in Its immediate midst, which the
hardy Mormon settlers hadn't
planted, one by one. and nurtured
through droughts and every other
handicap that Nature seemingly
could devise. To cut down one
for a Christmas tree would have
been an unthinkable dissertation.
So, usually at Christmas time, the
hardest Of the young men in the
Congregational Church, which we
ATTENDED. managed to bring down
a fir or a spruce tree on snow
shoes from the steep slopes Of
Ogden Canyon.
Then. the entire community,
Mormon, gentle or Jew was in
vited to share 1t much after the
fashion Of the Pilgrims Thanks
Igiving but either on Christmas
Eve or on Christmas night. There
would be song festival and as g
grand finale, the distribution of
little paper cornucopias of candy
| Tree Was Promised.
Our Southern mother although
she always helped trim the tree
and generally led the singing In
her clear contralto voice, though
we children should know the in.
innate pleasure Of a Christmas
tree Of our very own. On fathers
pre- Christmas inspection trip Che
was then division superintendent
LOT the Oregon Short Line of the
Union Pacif1c), she planned that
he was to bring back a little one
from the north country. Perhaps
1t might even be possible to order
ornaments for it from Marshall
Field In Chicago, our nearest mail
order house.
Father didn't get home on time
There were disturbing rumors of
snow slides and tieups. We could
hear our mother softly praying
aloud for his safety after we were
in bed for the night. The snow
came down steadily in binding
whiteness.
The day before Christmas.
mother suddenly announced, "Of
course we are going to have a tree.
1t will be all white. too. and you
can help trim it yourselves" With
this she set up the ironing board
in the warmest corner of the
dining room. heated by a pot
bellied coal stove. With a -four
Iish she draped sheet over it,
spreading out two ends so that
they broadened at the bottom.
Out came the corn pepper and
the cranberries we would ordi-
narily have seen made into cram
berry jelly. We strung the pop
corn and cranberries, either alter
nately or in separate strings,
each to his own taste. Then we
arranged them on "the tree"
Next mother produced the
brown paper wrappings which had
come around our presents from
Aunt Sarah Byrd, Aunt Josephine
FAINT and the other relatives back
East" Out of it we were taught