Visions of Sugarplums

Some people seem to thrive on it. I do not. 

I am done. I refuse to get back out into the full-throttle chaos of packed streets and stores, where the race to find a parking space or to get the last on-sale Deep-Fry Daddy turns normally friendly shoppers into surly gladiators.

When I had no money--and I mean, NO money--I handmade my gifts to people: sweet breads I baked in coffee cans; shawls and scarves I knitted or crocheted; terrariums made from apothecary jars and filled with hardy plants. 

At one time in the not-very-distant past, that was what our ancestors did.

In the late 1800's in the Rio community just over the Kemper County line, there was a thriving business that drew customers from miles around: Calvert's Store. Ancestors of ours patronized the place on a regular basis. 

A few years back I had the privilege of going through one of the extant ledgers kept by the store owners so long ago. Hollis Calvert, one of the descendants of the original proprietors, let me borrow it overnight and copy it. It's an artifact that I've always treasured. Even now, some people, whether they were from the area or not--in fact, whether they're from the SOUTH or not!--pore over it for hours.

This particular book had over 600 pages detailing transactions between the summer of 1885 and the early spring of 1887. Each family had a number assigned to it, so there was another list somewhere with that information as well. A clerk could look up a family's account number and record whatever items were being bought (probably on credit) that day.

And bear in mind that this is only ONE book, and the store was in operation for many decades!

I thought some of you might like to see what people did right before December 25th back in the 1880's. You may or may not see ancestors of yours in these few pages. (By the way, there weren't any Alawines living in that part of Kemper County then, so that name won't appear. But do look for R.G. Skinner.) 

Think for a while what these people's "celebrations" were, and--like me--have the good grace to be a little embarrassed at your shopping excesses.

Merry Christmas!