Marshall Ramsey

His forefathers had nearly frozen to death and starved due to their decision to move. Thanks to the Native Americans, they survived. So today he was about to carve a turkey in their honor.

The sharp knife glided through the hot turkey.  They had gotten an extra big one this year.  More leftovers.  He stopped and smiled.  There was NOTHING better than leftover turkey sandwiches.  Well, maybe… but he loved turkey sandwiches.  And this year’s turkey’s breast would provide a bountiful crop.

A bountiful crop. Thank God for the bountiful crop in his life.

It had been a year since the move. And two since the event that caused the move.  He looked out the kitchen window at the mountains and reflected on the past couple of years.  It had been so hard on his family. Families all across America were being scattered like dandelion seeds in the wind thanks to the Great Recession. His was no different. He sighed and watched as the mist danced across the snow-capped peaks.

He heard the restlessness coming from the dining room.  The sound of a spoon clanking against a piece of crystal woke him from his trance. “C’mon, DAD! People are HUNGRY OUT HERE.”  He was holding up business.

He brought the plate of turkey into the dining room to a welcoming gasp, sat it down in the middle of the table and took his seat.  His wife, their kids and  both his and her parents watched as he tucked his napkin in his shirt.  Then they all held hands and he began to pray:

“Thank You for adversity.  Thank You for the gift of change. You gave this family a challenge and after only two years, we are now here together, stronger than before.  But we really didn’t find happiness until we realized that Thanksgiving was everyday.  So thank You for that insight. And thank You for all the blessings around the table.  Thank You for this food. Thank You for our health. And thank You for this family.”

The dad finished his impromptu prayer (He normally fired off ‘God is great’) and served his wife a piece of turkey.

Thanksgiving was more than a one-day event at their house.  It was served up every day of the year.  And judging the amount of turkey on the plate, so would turkey leftovers.

The little boy could see his breath as he chased after his father.  His father, whose legs were twice as long as the boys’, was a good ten feet in front of his son. In his right hand was a sharpened axe. In his left, a rope. It was cold evening and the sun was beginning to set west of the mountains. Their shadows spread a dark blanket on the lowlands below them — except for the hill the father and son were about to climb.  One foot after another the two quietly headed toward their prize: A Christmas tree.

It was a lone cedar tree, about five feet in height and perfectly shaped.  The dad sat the axe down, looked at his son and said, “So, is this one good enough?”  The boy, aged four, looked at the axe and then the tree and started to wail.  “NOOOOO!  You can’t kill this tree!”  The dad looked at the boy with a look of bewilderment and annoyance.  But even tall, lanky timber men have hearts.  “OK, Boy. We’ll save this one.  But let’s decorate it anyway. It can become our family tree.”

So a family tradition was born that early December day. Every Christmas Eve, the family would hike up the hill and decorate the tree, light a bonfire, drink hot chocolate and sing Christmas Carols. Each child would get to open a present on that hilltop.  And the family would hold hands and read the Gospel of Matthew to celebrate Christ’s birth.

Over the years, the little boy grew and so did his family. He was soon joined by a little sister and a little brother. Their mother got lovelier and their dad more proud.  And over the years, they would continue their Christmas celebration around the perfect tree. The family tree had grown bigger and stronger.

On that little hilltop in the East Tennessee mountains, love illuminated the surrounding valley.

One unusually hot and muggy December afternoon, a severe thunderstorm blew through the valley.  A rare tornado spawned and skipped its deadly finger though the woods and then into the settlement.  The father saw the funnel, quickly grabbed his family and threw them in a closet.  He dove on top of them right as the house exploded.  The sound of a thousand freight trains changed their lives forever.

Rescuers found the family safe underneath the body of the father. He had made the ultimate sacrifice for his children. The mayor and the editor of newspaper called him a hero.  That Christmas, he had given them the ultimate present of all.

The following Sunday, they buried the father on that hilltop in the shade of the family tree and close to the Lord.  And while the storm had damaged the mighty cedar, it hadn’t toppled it. Most of its right side was gone and it was scarred. But it wasn’t destroyed (much like the family itself.)  And that Christmas, the mother and the three children hiked up the hill, decorated the tree and held hands. They continued to celebrate their family and the birth of Christ around the mighty cedar on the hill.

The Family Tree.

Television raised him. Every afternoon, he got off the bus, let himself into his house and turned on the TV. He was a latchkey kid.  And he was darn proud of it.

The TV was his nanny, his companion and his teacher. He had learned so much about the World from those sitcoms and dramas.  For example, he did not worry about the current leadership crisis in Washington. Oh no. Skipper and Gilligan proved that “if not for the courage of the fearless crew, the Minnow would be lost.”  They lacked competence and the Minnow made it safely to shore.  He also knew that radios on desert islands got good reception and had batteries that lasted forever. Gilligan’s Island also showed him that he needed to overpack for a three-hour tour.  The country would survive the economic downturn like the castaways survived on the island.

His favorite pick-up lines? Dyno-mite!  Whatcha talkin’ about Willis! Up your nose with a rubber hose!   Nanoo Nanoo! Women loved those.

TV was so very educational.  He knew that a dolphin could take out a shark by torpedoing it with his nose.  And if you ever wanted to get rich, all you had to do was shoot the ground with a shotgun and oil would shoot up.  Cha ching.  He understood the banking crisis after watching Mr. Dreysdale on “the Beverly Hillbillies.”  His understanding of Congress came from “I’m just a bill” and he knew all the words to “Conjunction Junction, What’s your function.” And also he knew that most problems in life had to be “Nipped in the Bud.”  Thank you, Deputy Fife for that bit of wisdom.  (Although he did fear that the big Kool-Aid pitcher would come bursting through his wall at any moment. How do you nip THAT in the bud?)

TV had taught him a lot about history, too. He learned about NASA from “I Dream of Jeannie.” And he was glad that that nice astronaut fellow became an oil baron in “Dallas.”  He understood the difficulties America had in Vietnam after watching “Gomer Pyle.”  M*A*S*H taught him about the Korean War, too. He was glad his grandfather had a good time while he was a POW in Germany. “Hogan’s Heroes” looked like a blast — they must have had tunnels all the way to Paris.  And he loved that in the Pacific theater, they had hot nurses on ever island. Thanks Baa Baa Blacksheep (Blacksheep Squadron) from that historical nugget. He learned tolerance of those who are different than him by watching “The Munsters.” Wile E. Coyote taught him the law of Gravity.

He learned how to drive by watching “Dukes of Hazzard,” “Rockford Files,” and “CHiPs.” His car insurance was over $10,000 every six months.

He had a very sophisticated world view thanks to TV.  He didn’t know where Europe was, but he did know that Lucky Charms were magically delicious, Frosted Flakes were great and you should always Leggo my Eggo.  When he drank a Coke, he hummed, “I’d like to teach the world to sing.” That was information that would translate into any language.

So as he stood on the steps of the U.S. Capitol, his heart swelled with pride.  He was about to be sworn in as the 46th President of the United States after winning a landslide in the election. He grinned and wondered what “The A-Team” would do at a moment like this? He loved it when a plan came together.  He started humming the “Jeffersons'” theme song as the Chief Justice began swearing him in:

“Movin’ on up! To the top. To a de-luxe apartment in the sky…”

“Happy Days” were here again.