Another year draws to a close, and another Christmas is upon us again. I've spent most of my life on the road, hanging by a song, never in one place for very long. So it feels good to be back close to where I began life in the Carolinas. As time slips by and leaves its shadow, I often think of the Shakespeare quote from Richard II, Part V, " "I wasted time, and now doth time waste me." Each year as much as I want to accomplish, I never quite get enough done to satisfy myself. But amidst the lack of accomplishment, I find solace in the sentiment of the Christmas memories I get every year-end. No matter how far I have traveled from the Carolinas over the past 30 years, not a Christmas day comes when I don't think about Jefferson, South Carolina, and all the yesterdays spent there in the sandhills of South Carolina with my parents and family. Christmas has a peculiar power to remind us of a time long gone and those relatives who have crossed the great divide. No other time of year can evoke such strong memories of days passed.
Front row left to right: Jerry & Sarah Johnson Smith, Edith Johnson Roper, Ila Sue Johnson Reese holding Dallas R Reese Jr. Middle row left to right: Nell Demby Johnson, Russell Bradley Johnson, and Dallas Ray Reese Sr. Back row left to right: Dwight Johnson, John Wauford Johnson, and Anita Riddle Johnson.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
In the early to mid-1960s, I was the center of the world for my maternal grandparents, aunts, and uncles. I was the first grandchild of Russell and Catherine Nell Demby Johnson. Their attention squarely focused on me for at least a couple of years. Then in 1966, my cousin Terry Roper Jr. came along, and we continued to share those early Christmases with our Johnson family in Jefferson, South Carolina. As the years passed, more kids joined the family, and the memories became brighter, deeper, and more vivid.
Christmases were times of anticipation, excitement, and pure joy, and they never lasted long enough. As a child, activities like singing about the birth of Jesus at church, Christmas plays re-enacting the birth of Christ, and school parties gave special meaning to my favorite time of year.
Pleasant Terry Roper Jr. and Dallas Reese Christmas 1967
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
As soon as Thanksgiving was over, my mother would get out the artificial Christmas tree, and we would decorate on the Sunday after Thanksgiving; without fail, that was the beginning of the Christmas season for us.
My mom said it had been the same in her house in Jefferson, South Carolina, growing up in the 1930s, 40s, and 50s. But then, Christmas was an entire month of fun and joy.
Once I was old enough to get a record player, my mom never made me turn down the volume on the Christmas tunes. So from Thanksgiving to Christmas, I would blast songs from the tiny speaker of my record player. She loved hearing Johnny Mathis's "It's The Most Wonderful Time of the Year" and the Boston Pops version of "Sleigh Ride." And my Elvis Christmas album was a favorite for both of us.
Usually, somewhere around Christmas Eve or the day before, we'd load up the car with food, and presents and head to Jefferson, SC, to my maternal grandparent's house. I'd climb into the back of my dad's old station wagon for the 75-mile trek. I'd be armed with a book, usually a Christmas story, and read as we rolled down Hwy. Seventy-three headed east out of my hometown Concord, NC. Next, we'd turn onto Hwy 601 and begin the long stretch of road through Midland, NC, and other nameless towns until we got to Monroe, NC. From there, we'd veer south on 601, otherwise known as the Pageland Highway, which led us across the South Carolina state line. Once in Pageland, we'd turn onto Hwy. 151 to Jefferson, South Carolina, then a left on State Road 265. As we drove along, I saw endless sandy soil, bare cotton fields, watermelon patches long since harvested, and trees stripped of their leaves, save for pines and magnolias, still green, not realizing winter was here.
I knew we were almost there when my dad steered the station wagon to the right, and we'd drive past my Great-Uncle Hasty and Great-Aunt Ruby Demby's house. Then we'd pass the church my Great-Grandfather John Henry Johnson had given name to in the early 1900s, Antioch Baptist Church. Then the road turned from paved to dirt, and we dodged washouts and holes in the dirt road for a couple more miles until we arrived at my maternal grandparent's house in the middle of nowhere, but it sure felt like somewhere to a bright-eyed kid.
Left to right: Russell Johnson, Pleasant Terry Roper Sr, Nell Demby Johnson(holding Dallas Reese), John Johnson & Dwight Johnson. Christmas 1965 Jefferson SC
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The genial warmth of my grandparents, Russell and Nell Johnson, dispelled from my parent's minds the griefs, troubles, and petty strife of our everyday life in Concord, NC, where money was always tight. Jefferson was a place of refuge for not just my parents but for me especially. It was a world away from the cities of Charlotte and Concord, which seemed to go at 100mph, to a small kid who saw the world through a very narrow lens.
Christmas in the sandhills of South Carolina burned bright with the joy of the birth of the Christ child. But how could it not, when Christianity was everywhere in not only Jefferson but the entire area? In fact, across Chesterfield County, South Carolina, the most prominent places were churches. There were tons of them. My Grandmother's Demby family had been Welsh immigrants in the 1700s and therefore brought the Methodist tradition with them and were members of the Fork Creek Methodist Church. My Grandfather Russell Johnson's family had immigrated from the Isle of Skye in Scotland in the mid-1700s, bringing with them the Presbyterian tradition. My Great-Great Grandparents, James Riley, and Elizabeth Campbell Johnson were some of the first people buried in the graveyard at Rocky Creek Presbyterian Church near Jefferson. Somewhere along the way, my Great-Grandparents John Henry and Margaret Rebecca Jowers Johnson became Baptists and were some of the first members at Long Branch Baptist Church in Jefferson at its inception. That's where my Grandparents Russell and Nell Demby Johnson attended and are buried. And Longbranch Baptist Church was where my parents were married on August 30, 1963. So my family's connections to churches in Chesterfield County, SC, run deep. And the birth and ultimate sacrifice of the Christ child was at the center of everyone's focus, not just at Christmas but all year round.
In my youth, my grandfather Russell would tell me about the first Christmas a couple of thousand years ago when the world received its most incredible gift, Jesus Christ. My grandfather would explain how the birth of Jesus was the lighting of a taper, whose light has poured itself through the darkness of this world since, in widening circles, turning night into morning for us all. I distinctly remember him quoting the Virgin birth from the book of Luke and then telling me Jesus only had 33 and 1/2 years. Still, in that time, Jesus brought mercy and salvation for us all through the most extraordinary life and sacrifice.
After lunch at my grandparent's house, we'd play Nerf football in the front yard, dodging sand burrs and trying not to trip on fallen magnolia branches. My Uncle Jerry always played quarterback for both teams, which in the early days consisted of a couple of my other uncles, myself, and my cousin Terry. Eventually, my cousin David Johnson and Roger Roper were born, and by the time they were four or five years old, we put them on the field to give us more players.
After wearing ourselves out physically+, we'd eat big dinners together. My mom and aunts all brought different dishes every year. I always favored my Aunt Anita Riddle Johnson's menu items over everyone else. And my honorary Aunt Marta Brown always brought great dishes. Then we'd head back outside to play more nerf football, wiffleball, or whatever we'd like. Of course, there were some years when we'd play in the mild December weather long past dark till the stars climbed high in the heavens.
Dallas R Reese Jr Christmas 1965 at the home of Grandparents Russell & Nell Demby Johnson, Jefferson, South Carolina
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
And finally, near the end of the day, everyone would gather inside around the small sparkly tree to exchange gifts. Without fail, my Grandmother Nell gave me a stocking full of goodies and socks every year. Then presents in tow, we'd load up the station wagon and make the trek back to Concord, North Carolina, to await a visit from Santa. It's a picture etched forever in my mind. The excitement was uncontainable every single year.
Even though the sweet pictures of childhood grow dim with the passing years, through the wrinkled brow of time, I can still see the old familiar faces of my Johnson family, feel the touch of loving hands again, and hear the sweet voices of loved ones and those long gone. I see Uncle Lawd and Grandfather Russell talking a mile a minute, expounding on our family. I look over and remember my Great Aunt Lizzie complaining about everything. I remember my Great Aunt Verdie Johnson Gilmore(my grandfather's sister) and her husband, Lester Gilmore, talking about how my parents met. Lester had gone to Fruitland Bible Baptist Institute in Hendersonville, NC, at the same time as my dad and became friends with him. Lester would tell me how he always told my mom she needed to meet a good preacher, so Lester brought my dad to Jefferson with him one weekend to meet my mom. The rest, they say, is history. Let's say it worked out for the best because it brought my sister, brother, and myself into this world. For Lester and my Great Aunt Verdie, I'm so grateful. Not only for talking to us at Christmas about Christ but for bringing my mom and dad together. I'll never understand why certain things happen and why we do what we do in this life. But I know Lester and Verdie Johnson Gilmore were some of a man's finest relatives at any time or place.
Time fades and more years gather behind than in front. Still, I walk into the sunset with a smile, knowing warm memories of Christmas in Jefferson with my grandparents, parents, siblings, cousins, aunts, uncles, extended family, and friends live forever in my heart and on this page.
Christmas in Jefferson, South Carolina 1969--at the home of my grandfather Russell Johnson- left to right Catherine Nell Demby Johnson holding Kathryn Renee Reese, Russell Bradley Johnson, David Johnson, Dallas Reese Jr., Pleasant Terry Roper Jr. (standing in back, Dallas R Reese Sr.)
Christmas in Jefferson, SC 1977 left to right: Roger Roper, Daryl R Reese, Jane Johnson, Terry Roper Jr, Stacy D Smith, David Johnson. Front middle, Dallas Reese Jr.
Dallas Reese December 2022