Every year about this time, I'm reminded of a story my Pop used to tell about visiting his relatives at Christmas time. It seems that every Christmas when he was a young lad his Pop would load up the family and make the trip from Bethlehem,PA to Mt. Carmel, Pa. These trips took place back in the late '20's early '30's. My Grandfather would borrow an old ford pick-up with a flat bed(they didn't have a vehicle back then). He, my Grandmother and whatever baby came along that year, would ride in the cab. Keep in mind, that depending on how many survived that year there were anywhere from 10 to 13 people making the trip. The rest of the kids would be wrapped up in blankets and ride in the bed. They didn't all have coats. Now Mt. Carmel was a rough place in the "coal regions" of Pennsylvania, and the trip was an arduous one. The distance is roughly 80 miles, they would start out early in the morning, and the trip would take all day. The "roads" were not what we have today. They would stop several times throughout the day and my Grandmother would fix food for everyone on the side of the road.

The funny thing is every time they would come to a hill or mountain to cross, the kids would have to get out and push the truck up the hill, it didn't have enough "umph" to made it up. My father told me that by the time they pushed it up the last hill and started down into Mt. Carmel, my grandfather's brother and all his relatives would set up a hay wagon in the middle of the road to stop the truck because the brakes frequently failed by the time they got to Mt. Carmel.

Think about this, eight out of the thirteen siblings my father had, made it into their eighties or ninties! There were also three sets of twins that died in childbirth, four died in wars or from accidents. One is still living.

As I prepare the "sleigh" for Christmas travel, I think about this story and smile.

I hope you all have a Merry Christmas, and that the New Year brings you health, and good fortune.

Joe