Under the Tree

Down in the basement under a gray crust of grit and beetle carapaces, stacked in crumbling styrofoam, Snow Village waits like Brigadoon for  the magic day among 365 when someone ventures into the room past the washing machine.  This year there's a trio of happy elves to unpack the boxes  and carry each beloved piece up the stairs to the world of light above. 

 Every one has a story: a Hershey store and truck for the chocolate lovers with its marquee of tasty treats and trio of evergreens on the roof.  The chocolate store is even bigger than the bank, the building presented in honor of two weddings in one year.  Of course there is a Starbucks; what is the Christmas season without the warming cheer of mochas and lattes and the boost of caffeine grande'  Downtown is bracketed by a Krispy Kreme on one end of the buffet and the local greenhouse on the other.  The Schlueters made sure happy holiday memories live in this part of Snow Village....Ralphie's house is just off the main drag and the Von Trapp's elegant mansion can be glimpsed in the hills behind the greenhouse.

 The pink sparkly bottle brush tree was chosen especially for me by Aaron; I hope he's not embarrassed by it these days because it's one of my favorite parts of Snow Village. 

Across the dining room is the white church with the tall steeple and the honeymooners who are so entranced with each other, they have never driven off in their vintage auto with the cans trailing behind. Out here in the country is the grain elevator, and a mill, and the lovely stick house with lights in every window.  Kids are building a snowman in front of the log gas station that's nearly drifted in. They would have even more fun if they could join the group in the sleigh, or feeding Santa's reindeer apples or petting the farm animals near the skating pond or roasting marshmallows by the tree house.  Too bad that scene is all the way in the living room where there's no electrical outlet....

As much as I love Snow Village, it has its shortcomings.  The pieces are heavy for little hands and fragile, discouraging the kind of pretend play kids deserve. Most years something crashes and burns and winds up on the kitchen counter awaiting Superglue. The greenhouse separates from its glazing on an annual basis; the overhead light on the elevator wound up on the basement floor and I've given up trying to keep the kitten and its bucket of milk attached to the gas pumps.  Still, to walk through the dark dining room en route to the coffee pot and stop to wake up the golden glow of Snow Village before breakfast is a good way to begin a winter morning.

It must be the kid in me. I've always been drawn to tableau, dollhouses, dioramas, anything that draws the viewer into another scene. When Josh and Gabe ask for the tenth time if they can unpack the potpourri of buildings, trees, figurines and lights that live under our tree, I understand their excitement. 

Years and years ago, when we placed the little paper mache' houses with their cellophane windows and glittered roofs among the cotton batting, I pictured the cozy living rooms of the cottages with "smoke" coming from their chimneys and heard Christmas carols coming from steepled church with the wooden Nativity in its front yard. Three smaller houses nestled under the lowest boughs of our cedar Christmas tree, but the strand of lights didn't reach that far, so we always pretended those folks were out of town. 

 I spend many an evening rearranging the plastic deer, the little Santa in his sleigh, and making up stories about the goings on in whatever was my favorite house at that moment. 

This year, we resurrected the little village for the first time in many years from its ancient cardboard box. Time has not been kind; many of the fragile cellophane windows are peeled from their frames.  Lee and Ann gently set them on the bookcase, weaving a strand of tiny white lights among them and placing the herd of plastic deer in the snowballs around them.  I found one little grinning styrofoam snowman and two little wooden choir folk to carol in front of the houses. 

 Sure enough, the steeple was disconnected from the church.   The town looks rundown compared to shiny Snow Village, but in the glow of nothing but Christmas lights, the magic of my childhood remains.....

(P.S. What a blessing the cool light bulbs are!  Back in the day, we were fortunate the behemoths we put on our live tree and in the paper houses of the village didn't literally catch fire!  Because the bulbs were so hot...and if one went out, they all did, we didn't leave our tree lit for more than an hour at a time...)

Because of Taco Bell

Once a week, after we were married but still in college, I'd meet my mother for lunch at the Taco Bell on Missouri Boulevard in Jefferson City.  It was a treat for both of us back then: a chance to visit for an hour face to face in the days before cell phones when gas was cheaper than a long distance call.  She walked down the hill from where she worked in the Missouri Farm Bureau building; when lunch hour was over, I'd drop her off at the front door.  She worked in Brokerage in those days..and believe me when I say that was just about the sum total of my knowledge about Farm Bureau ...

My folks were members; the Missouri Farm Bureau reward sign was nailed to a post by the driveway soon after they purchased their farm in Moniteau county. And my mom was the one who nudged us into joining once we moved back to Atchison county.

 Harry Broermann was the county president; he stopped by to visit with Blake about Farm Bureau while we lived in the house on North 4th.  We attended a Young Farmer and Rancher conference at Tantara and took our first trip to Washington, D.C. in 1982, staying in the Hotel Washington.  The top floor overlooked the Treasury Department and the White House....not a view available in these latter days! We visited the glorious ballroom at the State Department and toured the White House; quite the coups even in the '80s and nigh impossible these days.  When Aaron and I tried to get a picture of the White House in March, I had to use my zoom lens just to get them both in the picture!

White House aside,  Blake and I, Lee, Ann, and Ben...and other friends and family...got up close and personal with our nation's capital on these three and four day trips; past and present, history and policy, mingled to give us an education and experience most tourists never see from the Trolley or their walk through of the Smithsonian.

Through the years,  the policy wonks and famous authors, journalists and generals,  historians, and of course, politicians we listened to brought D.C. to life for visiting farm families from more than a thousand miles west of the Beltway.

State-side, our family looked forward to attending the Annual Meeting the first weekend in December. It was our first break from farm work after a long harvest.  When the kids were young, it counted as a vacation: Tantara was quite a bit nicer than any motel we ever stayed in.  My mother was personnel manager by then, responsible for the registration process. Not only were we "on vacation", the girls got to play with their grandparents too!  My father took the kids swimming; we would play ping pong around the pool.  Some years we went ice skating; we walked through the shops, bought caramels, and ate a big buffet breakfast with a lake view.  Blake followed the policy discussions closely, learning the nuts and bolts of both process and personalities.  It was our first opportunity to do something on our own.

A trip to Tantara for Annual Meeting has been as traditional as putting up a Christmas tree.  Lee, Ann, and Ben used to sit in the back row with their crayons and the back pages of the Resolutions book.  Our friend Greg Gaines entertained our kids..and has now spent several years entertaining the next generation!  Several years we left for Farm Bureau meeting after basketball in Mound City.  A couple of years we left for Farm Bureau after wrestling tournaments. A free meal or two enticed the college students to join Mom and Dad for the weekend before finals. This year the floor will be littered with Legos, wet towels, hairbrushes, and unmatched shoes as we enjoy this get together as a family affair.

 Missouri Farm Bureau is getting ready to host its 102nd Annual Meeting.  This December 2016 will mark the thirty-fifth meeting for the Hurst family.  That's a lot of farm policy, pork chops, estate taxes, FFA speeches, runny eggs, Star Spangled banners, hospitality rooms, eminent domain, talent finds, and hand shaking.  It is storytelling unto the third and fourth generation.

We used to be the Young Farmers.  Now we're the Old Hands....