Book Review: "Christmas in Matheson Cove"

 CHRISTMAS IN MATHESON COVE

by:  Brenda Kay Ledford

Book Review by:  Carroll S. Taylor-poet, author, and playwright

It's Christmas in Matheson Cove, North Carolina, and snow on Shewbird Mountain adds to the excitement of the season.  For Bob and Minnie Ledford's eight children, joyful holiday expectations are running high, but uncertain, in this charming picture book written by author and poet, Brenda Kay Ledford.

The story unfolds on Christmas Eve in 1931 during the Great Depression, when kids hung their stockings and were grateful to receive candy, fruit, and nuts on Christmas morning if they were lucky.  Times were hard, and families celebrated the best way they could.

Bob is disheartened.  His hunting trip in the snow with his dog Old Rover on Shewbird Mountain yields no wild game.  He returns home, hangs his coat on a nail, and tells Minnie that he can't afford presents, not even a stick of peppermint candy.  "I ain't got no money..."

He believes that hanging the children's stockings is a waste of time.  Minnie reminds him, "Money don't matter.  It's our love that makes Christmas."  And she encourages him by saying, "God will provide."

Bob and Minnie hang the children's stockings anyway, hoping for a miracle.  Leave it up to the older Ledford boys to make that surprise miracle happen.

Ledford's book is beautifully illustrated by the artistic design of North Carolina native Doreyl Ammons Cain.  All illustrations in the First Edition are original with vivid colors that Cain created with pastels.  The book's front cover, with snow and evergreen trees, creates a festive scene inviting readers to enter the story.

Ledford includes seemingly small details--like kernels of corn accidentally dropped by the boys along a snowy path--for a reason.  Young cornstalks in the spring will remind Minnie and readers later in the story of how Christmas blessings happen all throughout the year.  The effects of the boys' miracle don't happen just once but continue in unexpected ways.

Ledford is a seventh generation native of Clay County, North Carolina.  Christmas in Matheson Cove describes one holiday her family spent during the Great Depression.  "The parents had no money for presents, but the children figured out a plan to provide gifts for the family."

Ledford reminds readers that acts of love are miracles that show the true meaning of Christmas, and her historical story is one that is certainly worth passing down to future generations.

Christmas in Matheson Cove was published by Catch the Spirit of Appalachia, an imprint of Ammons Communications.  The book is available online at:  sharingspokenstories.com/shop/ols/products/christmas-in-matheson-cove.

INDEPENDENCE DAY (United States)

 

When I grew up in the Blue Ridge Mountains, we didn't have watermelons all year.  It was a real treat to dive into a plump, juicy, watermelon on the Fourth of July.  Daddy bought one each year at the little country store and put it into the freezer to get nice and cold.

On the Fourth of July, Mama packed a picnic basket with delicious goodies:  a chocolate cake made from scratch, oatmeal cookies, celery (Daddy loved celery), corn-on-the-cob ( we called them roast nears in the mountains), white-runner beans, and of course; hotdogs and buns.

Daddy loaded the giant-sized watermelon in the back of our old black Ford and we headed to the Matheson Cove to Granddaddy and Ma Minnie's house for a cookout under the maple tree.  Daddy sliced the watermelon with a butcher knife and asked Ma Minnie to fetch the salt shaker.  Doctors would have a fit today if they caught folks shaking, shaking, shaking, salt on every piece of watermelon.  Mama declared, "This is the best watermelon we've ever eaten."  We all agreed and wolfed down the other goodies.

We cousins held a seed spitting contest.  Harold (my brother) and I filled our mouths with seeds, lent back and spat as far as we could.  Cousin Bobby had the contest down pat and always spat the seeds clear across the yard.  Grandma Minnie gave the winner of the watermelon spitting contest an extra slice of Mama's rich chocolate cake.

Then we cousins headed down to Hyatt Mill Creek to swim.  The boys swung on a grape vine across the deepest part of the creek and splashed into the ice cold waters.  Harold brought his fishing pole and headed far from the crowd to catch catfish for our supper.  He usually got a bunch and Uncle Ralph fried the fish and hushpuppies over and open fire for our supper.

When the sun set like a ruby over Shewbird Mountain, we called it a day and headed home.  Back then we didn't have fireworks in the mountains, but enjoyed the lightning bugs putting on a night show as we drove home over the winding, dirt road.

I will always remember the Fourth of July celebration our family held deep in the Blue Ridge Mountains.  A simple celebration filled with the love of family and grateful for our freedom.

by:  Brenda Kay Ledford

Happy Fourth of July!