A brush with an old sage:

Christmas Hayride

by Hal Swift

A bunch of us were settin' in Shorty's Place the other night, complainin' about the weather, and Shorty says, "This is one of them nights when anything can happen.  Weatherwise, that is."

"Yeah," says Sioux, "Like winter finally arriving."

Charley Walker from up in Drytown says, "Yeah, I've seen it a lot durin' my years around here.  Y'go to town in your shirtsleeves, and y'need a bearskin coat t'keep you warm on the trip home.  Didn't keep us from havin' our hayrides, though."

Sioux's settin' at the piano, and she begins playin' "Jingle Bells."

Ol' John, the feller who used to be a hardrock miner in Virginia City, and is now a newspaper editor says, "Sounds like somethin' I could use in Sunday's paper.  You got a hayride that particularly stands out in your memory, Charley?"

"Sure do," says Charley.  "One I went on some sixty-odd years ago--just about this time of year, too.

Sioux plays softer, and most of the other folks in the room pull their chairs up closer so they don't miss anything that Charley says.  We've all come to like the old man, and enjoy hearin' him talk about "Back then" as he calls it.

"Well," says Charley, "Back then, they weren't as many people around here as they are now.  Then, too, we mostly was families.  Ever'body was related to somebody."

John, the newspaper man, says, "Yeah, it's still a lot like that.  You don't dare say anything bad about anybody, because they're liable to be related to the person you're talkin' to."

"Yeah," Charley says, "It ain't all that bad, either.  I think it tends t'make folks kinder to each other.  Anyways, the hayride I'm thinkin' about was one that was got up by my great uncle, Harmon."

Sioux plays a little slower and says, "I'd think a woman'd be the one to get a hayride together.  Isn't there a lot of planning goes into one?"

Charley says, "Nawww.  All y'need is a wagon.  Y'fill it with straw, hitch up a horse, and throw in a blanket or two, an' there you are."

John says, "Wait a minute.  Straw?  I thought this was a hayride."       

Charley takes a sip of sasparilla and says.  "Well, hay is what the livestock eats.  Straw is what y'put down on the barn floor.  Nobody used hay for hayrides, it'd be wasteful."       

John writes that down.  "Straw rides... "       

Charley says, "Moms and dads, brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles, nieces, nephews and cousins all come along.  And, of course, you got your neighbors, and all their families, too.  Nowadays, it'd be what they call a 'community activity.'  Anyways, all the youngsters, and the old folks'd wrap themselves up good and warm, and the young men and women would all kind of pair off, y'know.  And you hope the weather stays good."     

Drawin' his heavy red, white, and blue plaid coat a little snugger, Charley continues.  I managed to pair up with a young lady named Abigale, who seemed to be all right with me helpin' t'keep her warm."       

Sioux says, "And you're sittin' there, under a blanket, right?"       

"Now, Sioux," says Charley, "this Miss Abigale considered me a real gent.  I wouldn't of done anythin' to make her believe otherwise."       

Properly chided, Sioux says, "Okay, Charley.  Just tryin' to get a clear picture."       

"Well," says Charley, "on this night we had just enough snow to warrant my Uncle Harmon putting the runners on the wagon.  Makes the wagon like a big comfortable sled.  'Course, you'll never see a sled that'll carry forty people in it.  By the time we're ready to go, the snow'd stopped, and the night was cold and clear, just like it is outside right now. 

"Uncle Harmon gives 'is old plowhorse a whack, the wagon jerks to a start, and ever'body cheers.  Oh, I forgot t'mention.  This is on Christmas Eve, so we all start in to singin' Carols.  Our trip runs about a half-an-hour, and takes us through the woods, and across what used to be Stebbins's bean field, and on over to the Walmsley family's place."       

Shorty says, "What did y'do when you got there?"       

Charley says, "We go to the barn.  I tell you, it was a sight!  Goin' up the lane, there's colored lanterns hangin' from the fence posts.  And the barn is all lighted up with lanterns, and decorated first rate, too.  The Walmsleys'd done a good job gettin' ready for us.  When the wagon stops, we all go into the barn.  And when we walk in through the

big doorway, the fiddles commence playin'.  There's dancin', of course, and me and Abigale got to dance most of the evenin' together.  Got t'share a cuppa apple cider later on.  With two straws, doncha know?  I almost stole me a kiss, but both our moms were watchin', which put the ki-bosh on that."       

John says, "Now, that seems like the bad part of goin' on a wingding like this.  Has to be uncomfortable for the young folks, havin' the old folks watchin' their every move"       

"Naw," says Charley.  "We just went back to dancin'.  However, we'd only been dancin' for a few minutes when Uncle Harmon announces that it's snowin'.  He says it's comin' down pretty heavy, and he thinks we'd better go.  All of us didn't go home, though.  Abigale and her folks stay at the Walmsley's place, and me and my folks head on home."       

Sioux says, "Whatever happened to Abigale?  You see her again?"      

"You betcha," Charley says.  "I married her!"       

Sioux plays a few chords of "Here comes the bride" on the piano, then hugs Charley.       

I just set there, smilin'.  I've known ol' Charley and Miz Abigale for years.  No finer couple on the face of the earth.  She's gone now, and Charley misses her, I know.  Lookin' over Sioux's shoulder while she hugs 'im, I see a tear runnin' down his cheek.       

Shorty goes to the door and looks out.  "Hey, ever'body!" he hollers.  "It's snowin' out!"       

We all crowd over to the door and window to look out, and Charley says, "Well, I reckon I'd better head on home, 'fore it gets too deep out there."       

I offer to walk home with 'im, but Charley declines my company.  "I like walkin' in the snow," he says.  "Brings back a lotta good memories."       

Shorty gives Charley a cup of warm sasparilla to take with 'im.  "Keep your pipes from freezin' on the way home," he says.       

Ever'body wants Charley to stay longer, but he says, "Thank you, but it's way past my bedtime.  Good night, now!"       

As he heads out the door, ever'body hollers, "Merry Christmas, Charley!"       

Sioux turns back to the piano and, softly and slowly, begins playing "Walking in a Winter Wonderland."  She sighs and says, "What an interesting man."       

John, the newspaper man, knocks down the last few drops of his sasparilla and says, "You got that right."

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Based on Hal's poem, "Christmas Hayride," which you can read in the 2006 collection of Christmas poems at CowboyPoetry.Com, the world's largest online collection of western and cowboy poems.

http://www.cowboypoetry.com/christmas poems062.htm#Hayride.

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(Ed. Note:  For a closer look at Hal Swift's cowboy poetry, go to http://www.cowboypoetry.com/halswift.htm )

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