![]() ![]() The fourth Thursday in November, in her mind, was the jumping off point to Friday’s sales, when our already overflowing boxes of Christmas decorations expanded even further and her attention turned to “The Tree.” Sara was not dealing with turkey and dressing when there were dozens of delights involving Crisco and sugar to be created for the upcoming weeks. Thanksgiving was an afterthought at our house, formally observed only if it was our year to host my grandmother. You could tell by the look on her face thatĬhristmas season had arrived and it was “get- on-board-or-get-out-of-the-way” for the next few weeks on East Adams Avenue. When he finally did, her inner eight-year-old would take over, turning down pages and propelling her into the carpool line at our school, just bursting with joy at the chance to help us make our lists. My mother would meet the mailman halfway down the sidewalk every day in early November, hoping he would pull the thick book from his bag. That’s where the Sears catalogue came into play. Woolworth’s and Sterling’s aisles were packed with the latest dolls and games, but children of today would be stunned at how limited the local toy selection was in those pre-Walmart, pre-Amazon days. Then they went dark again, silently waiting for that miraculous “Second Friday after Thanksgiving,” the day it never rained and Greenwood filled up with thousands of band members and visitors. My newspaper reporter mother, Sara Criss, always seemed to have the inside scoop on which night those lights would be tested, and you could find our old station wagon parked by the Red Cross office, a perfect vantage point to see every single bulb burst into life with one glorious flip of a switch. ![]() No one seemed to mind the blocked parking spaces or the traffic jams, as this inconvenience meant that Delta Band Festival was just over the horizon. The first “sign of the season” downtown was the rumbling of Greenwood utilities’ trucks along Howard Street, their buckets brimming with long lines of colorful bulbs and plastic pole decorations. I’ve lived in other places for much of my adult life and found that every town has its own holiday atmosphere, but there’s just always been an extra level of joy in the Delta, perhaps a reflection of the sense of accomplishment when the hard labors of summer and fall have finally slowed down. Growing up in Greenwood at mid-century, Christmas was a magical, memorable time, packed with local and family traditions, some of which endure to this day. ![]()
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