
By Gene Hall
It’s always a mistake to paint a mythological picture of farm life. The Norman Rockwell image never really existed. However, there are pieces of my childhood on the farm that my children never experienced, nor will my now three-month-old granddaughter. Christmas is one of those times.
My Christmas memories are of the farm because that’s where I grew up. Our 235 acres were nestled in among walls of tall pines in deep East Texas, in Newton County. We raised cattle and hay and for a time tried both the dairy and the hog business. Christmas was never an extravagant affair, but my Mom and Dad always managed to make it special.
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