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- Story Listed as: True Life For Adults
- Theme: Friendship & Family
- Subject: Biography / Autobiography
- Published: 07/10/2020
Christmas at the Ranch
Born 1954, M, from Cocoa Beach/FL, United States.jpeg)
Christmas at the Ranch
The Schnieder family had a great tradition of a family reunion each day after Christmas at their matriarch’s ranch, Anna, near Seguin, Texas. Her daughter, Marie, lived in Houston. Emma’s relatives lived in east Texas, where their ancestors had settled upon immigrating from Germany. The Schnieder name disappeared when a generation of three sisters, Emma, Sophia, and Mila, adopted their husbands' names. Emma’s husband, Herman, built a grand party house on top of a hill at Emma’s ranch. It included three bedrooms, a large open kitchen, and a huge party room with a bar, two poker tables, and more beds. The ranch house comfortably accommodated 15 to 20 people at reunions.
Emma’s husband, Steven, and children, Cindy, Robin, and Stuart, drove from Houston on a bitter cold Saturday morning for a reunion in 1966. Twelve-year-old Stuart lay in the rear of their station wagon, listening to highway tire sounds. Most of their journey took place on Interstate 10. The tire sound changed when Steven turned onto an asphalt two-lane farm road. It changed yet again with a turn onto a gravel road. They had arrived at the ranch. Their brown and white Springer Spaniel, Charley, sitting in a cage next to Stuart, also recognized the gravel sound and whined with anticipation. The station wagon stopped at a gate. Stuart opened the back door to let Charley out, then unlocked the gate, opening it for the car to drive through. He closed the gate and hopped back in the car. By then, the dog had run far ahead, disappearing into tall grass and mesquite trees. Stuart wasn’t worried about him; Charley knew how to find the house and would be waiting there for the car. Back in the car, Stuart listened to the soothing sounds of tires on crunching gravel. A mile later, he opened another gate at the house. Despite the frigid cold, ranch and Christmas excitement overwhelmed him. No matter what, today would be fun.
Steven drove to a small pump house where he turned on electricity to a pump and primed it to provide drinking water to the house. After returning to the house, he turned on gas heaters while Stuart gathered wood from a barn to start a fire in a brick fireplace.
Emma’s children carried food, drinks, and Christmas presents from the station wagon to the house. After unloading the car, Charley and Stuart snuck through a grove of massive three to four-foot diameter oak trees surrounding the house. He looked at his favorite part of Grandma’s ranch, a 10-acre lake in a valley. Sure enough, a large flock of ducks was spread across the water.
“Charley, stay up here. We’ll hunt later.”
HIs dog’s intelligence was eerie, usually understanding what Stuart said. Charley followed Stuart back to the house, knowing that hunting would soon follow.
When Stuart heard gravel crunching like a doorbell, he walked out the front door to see his grandparents stop at the gate. He ran over and opened it to let them through. He and his sisters greeted their grandparents at the house, hugged them with Christmas cheer, then carried food and presents inside.
Gravel crunched continuously as more relatives arrived. Women gathered in the kitchen to catch up on gossip and warm many food dishes. The men built a fire in a barrel outside. They gathered around it for warmth and to talk with Steven for the first time in a year. Stuart helped his uncle, Carl, carry a Christmas tree and decorations inside, bringing glee to the children. This year’s tree had unique decorations from Leslie – many rolled-up dollar bills tied to limbs.
"Now, you kids leave those dollars alone for now. You can’t have them until after the other presents are opened," Leslie said.
While aunts and grandchildren decorated the tree, Stuart and Carl sneaked out the back door and zipped up their jackets.
“Did you see any ducks?” Carl asked.
“Yes. Lots of ‘em. But Dad doesn’t let me hunt without him.”
“Don’t worry, come with me. I brought my deer rifle.”
“Cool.”
He retrieved a large rifle from his truck and loaded it. Charley appeared, knowing a gun led to hunting. Carl drove Stuart to the edge of the hill and stopped. Charley followed behind, watching expectantly.
“See those ducks? I told you so,” Stuart said.
“Let’s take a look,” Carl said, his tall, lanky frame moving smoothly. He rolled down his window and opened his truck door, then stepped out and laid his gun on the windowsill to hold it steady. He leaned forward and looked through his scope.
Stuart jumped out of the truck and walked around it to watch Carl shoot.
“Probably about 50 of them,” Carl said.
"That's a long shot," Stuart said. At that distance, the ducks looked like specks of pepper bunched up on the water. “How far away do you think they are?”
“About 300 yards. That’s nothing. I shot a deer at 350 yards last week.”
Carl was an amazingly accurate shooter. He hunted all season long, shooting more deer than anybody in the family. Stuart couldn’t imagine hitting anything at three football field’s distance.
Charley whined in anticipation. He knew what guns meant, fetching ducks from the lake - his passion in life.
“Sit,” Stuart told him. “Stay.”
“That’s too far for my 270, but I have a 30-06 rifle today. There’s no wind, so this shot shouldn’t be a problem.” Carl took off his hat and adjusted his scope. He snugged the rifle to his shoulder, then steadied the barrel on the window frame. “See the one closest to shore?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“I’ll get him. You might want to plug your ears. This gun’s loud.”
Carl exhaled, becoming still as dirt. Stuart put his fingers in his ears as a boom shattered the silence. A big splash of water startled the flock, sending them into flight with wings franticly fluttering, bunched up tight. Charley looked at Stuart, waiting for the fetch command.
Carl looked through his scope again. “Got him.”
They drove the truck to the edge of the lake with Charley running behind them. Stuart left the truck and spotted a black object floating fifty yards across the lake.
He told Charley, “Sit.”
“Watch this,” he told Carl. He put his arm next to Charley’s head, then moved his hand toward the duck as he said, “Fetch.”
Charley lunged through the air, hitting the water with a splash. He swam in the direction Stuart had pointed. At thirty yards out, Charley turned around, looking for guidance. Stuart waved his arm toward the bird. Charley followed a new bearing to soon found the duck. He grabbed it and swam back to shore with his prized bird.
When Charley climbed out of the water, Stuart said, “Come.”
Charley proudly brought his shredded bird to Stuart, who reached down and took it from Charley’s gentle mouth.
“Not much of this left,” Stuart noted.
“Not going to be eating that one,” Carl said, chuckling.
“You’re a great shot. Wow, three hundred yards.”
“It’s almost time to eat. Let’s go back.”
They drove to the house where Carl threw the shredded duck into the fire barrel.
By now, all the relatives had arrived. Men pulled rocking chairs around the fireplace and fed logs to the blaze. They drank Christmas cider, caught up on family news, and told stories of their old days.
Mila’s sons were Billie, an electrician, and Jeff, a painter. They each had several grandchildren. Leslie's husband, Carl, worked in a printing shop, and his father, Maxwell, built houses.
Billie started in on his navy stories.
“Did I ever tell ya I was in the big war? I joined the Navy and rode a destroyer all over the Pacific. You wouldn’t believe those storms we went through. One time we were caught in a hurricane. The waves were so big I thought our ship was going down. Every sailor on that ship was dying sick but me. I never once got sick. Then they took us to Hiroshima after the war was over. I went to where that atomic bomb went off. Damn, that city was wiped out as far as I could see. That was one awful sight. Nothing left but sticks and bricks. We sure bombed the hell out of those Japs.”
Herman asked, "Carl, you get any deer this year?"
"What kind of darn fool question's that. Did I get any deer? Of course, I shot deer. The question is how many. I killed a six-pointer on opening day, down south at my lease. I went back there Christmas day and shot an eight-pointer. They were big South Texas deer over 200 pounds. You know there's little hill country deer all around my house west of San Marcos. I shot a doe from my back porch yesterday just to have fresh meat in my refrigerator. I got one more deer tag, so I’ll get another deer next week before the season’s over.”
“Since when did the end of a season keep you from shooting a deer?” Jeff asked, bringing a chuckle from all the men.
"Aw, you know it doesn't. I was just talking about using my last tag." More laughter.
"Hey, Steven," said Jeff. "You do any hunting?"
"Oh yeah. No deer hunting, but we shot lots of doves right here Labor Day weekend. Then I went out west and killed a bunch of quail at Thanksgiving. Saw a bunch of turkeys, but they were all hens. Didn't see any gobblers. I'll go one more time next week looking for a turkey."
The storytelling continued, but the eight children, eight to twelve years old, wanted nothing to do with adults. They went outside to play around the barrel fire and explore the barn. When Mike brought out his 22-rifle, the kids walked to the dump behind the house, a big hole in the ground full of bottles and cans that made perfect targets. Stuart put Charley in his cage to stay away from the shooting. They passed the rifle from boy to boy to practice their shooting skills. They cheered when bottles shattered and cans flew through the air.
When they were tired of shooting, the boys turned to more mischievous fun. At this age, they had discovered fireworks, and the country boys had brought an abundant supply. They started out throwing single firecrackers into the barrel. Then moved to strings of many in the barrel. Soon it sounded like war as firecrackers flew around the yard. Then bottle rocket and roman candle battles started, with Stuart receiving most of the shots because he was the smallest boy. The country cousins liked to gang up on him. The girls hid in the barn while the boys clashed in earnest. Stuart became a casualty when a firecracker went off in his hand, burning his ear. In defeat, he went inside for cold water to put on his hand while the other boys laughed.
In the kitchen, delicious food smells filled the air as women prepared a holiday feast of food from their German heritage. Turkey stuffed with sausage, red cabbage, potato dumplings, and gingerbread were delicacies for Marie’s children who ate such delicious German foods only once a year at these reunions. Mila’s specialties were bread and butter pickles and homemade bread. An overabundance of German potato salad was snacked on all day long.
Once dinner was ready, everybody gathered in the kitchen, where Herman said grace. A buffet line formed as hungry relatives filled their plates with holiday food. Adults ate at a big table in the kitchen, while children went to a small table in the party room to get away from boring grownup talk. The boys talked about hunting and fishing while girls chattered about becoming cheerleaders someday. After dinner came the best part, dessert. Mountains of apple pie with a thick crust, pecan pie, baklava, and pastries finished off the meal.
When all had eaten to their heart’s content, the family gathered around the Christmas tree to hand out presents to the children. Each gift had a number taped to it. Leslie passed a bag around. Each child reached in to pull out a number. Then they searched under the tree for their numbered gift. Most presents were arts and craft items with beads, glue, and paint.
“Now for the part you’ve been waiting for,” announced Leslie. “Kids, come and get money from the dollar tree.”
Children swarmed the tree, pulling dollar bills and stuffing them into pockets. It just took thirty seconds to strip all the money from the tree.
Christmas present paper thrown in the fireplace created enormous flames to warm the house. Children quieted as they dove into new challenges. Women cleaned in the kitchen while men migrated to the round poker table where the country boys tried to win Houston money from Steven to make up for what they lost last year. The Schnieder family reveled in Christmas spirit through the evening. When the poker game wound down, cars were packed, and goodbyes exchanged with promises of another reunion next year.
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