The Eighth Tribe, 1977 (4. évfolyam, 1-12. szám)
1977-12-01 / 12. szám
December, 1977 THE EIGHTH TRIBE Page 3 ALBERT WASS: GRANDMOTHER’S CHRISTMAS STORY This Christmas Eve I would like to share with you a story told to us more than sixty years ago by our Grandmother, back in the old country, in the hills of Transylvania. It was Christmas Eve. Outside, the world was cold and murky. The snow-covered mountains began to fade away into the veils of the oncoming evening. We children had been herded into Grandmother’s room to wait for the angel, who was supposed to bring our Christmas tree when the first star appeared in the sky. Grandmother sat at the fireplace, while we children lay around her on the rug. There was no other light in the room but the fire, the restless glow of the flames casting long, mysterious shadows behind the furniture. The room smelled of lavender leaves and peach preserves. A deep silence was around us, filled with expectation, as we lay there on the rug, staring into the flames. Then, in a low voice, Grandmother began with the story. “Once upon a time... far-far beyond the Óperenciás Sea where the curly-tailed little pigs root, there lived a poor woodsman. He lived with his wife and his seven children in a small village, right at the foot of the mountains. He worked as a tree-feller and wood-cutter up in the mountain, from dawn to dusk, day after day, to make a living. But no matter how hard he worked, there was no joy in his home. Every evening, when he came home, tired from the day’s hard labor, and put his wages on the table: his wife never gave him a kind word, nothing but complaints. This was bad, that was bad. This neighbor was evil, that neighbor was evil. The poor woodsman had to sit there, tired as he was, and listen to her complaints, evening after evening. “As the children began to grow, they, too, learned the ways of their mother. They complained of the teacher, they complained about the other children, about the neighbors, about the weather, about everything. They complained so much that all the other children in the village stayed away from them. Nobody wanted to play with them anymore. Of course, this made them complain even more. They became very bitter, so very bitter that they even forgot how to laugh or smile. All this made the poor woodsman very sad. He tried to work harder and harder that he might make more money, hoping that the money would bring some joy and happiness into his home. Even in the coldest winter-days he kept on felling trees up there, waist-deep in the snow, from early dawn into the late of the evening. The hard work made him so tired and embittered, that he even forgot about Christmas. “On Christmas Eve the dusk found him working in the forest. When it became so dark that he could hardly see the axe in his hand, he started for home. Wading through the deep snow, he suddenly saw a little old woman struggling under the weight of a huge bundle of firewood. ‘Hey, Grandmother, where are you taking all this firewood?’ the woodsman asked. ‘I’m trying to take it home my son,’ the old woman answered ‘that I might have something to throw on the fire on Christmas-night.’ ‘Why don’t you send your son out for firewood?’ the man asked ‘or your grandson? An old woman like you has no business carrying such a load!’ ‘I don’t have anybody on the face of this Earth, my Son,’ sighed the old woman ‘I just have to take care of myself.. “The woodsman felt sorry for the old woman. ‘Well now,’ he said ‘let me help you Grandmother. You just show the way.’ With these words he lifted the bundle of firewood upon his own shoulders. ‘God bless you, God bless you’ thanked him the little old woman ‘you just follow me, Son. God bless you.’ To the man’s surprise she did not lead him toward the village, but turned into the tall dark timber, and went deeper and deeper into the forest. Soon they reached a tiny little clearing, and in the middle of that cleaning, deep in the snow, there stood a tiny log-cabin. It was so small that the snow almost reached up to its roof. “The old woman opened the door, and the woodsman took the wood into the cabin. He even started the fire, for it was very cold inside. ‘God bless you for your kindness’ she thanked him ‘but tell me one thing’ she asked ‘How is it that you do not spend the Christmas Eve with your family? Don’t you have any?’ “So with a deep sigh the woodsman opened up his heart, and told her about his plight. He told her that in his home there was no joy, not even on Christmas Eve, only complaints, complaints and more complaints, from morning till evening, and from evening till the next morning. ‘Oh my, my’ shook the old woman her head ‘that’s bad, very bad. But since you were kind to me, woodsman, I will be kind to you, too. Let me give you a little present.’ “She reached up and took a small jar from the shelf. ‘Take this’ she said ‘and when you get home open this jar, and rub some of this ointment over your wife’s eyes, and over the eyes of all your children, and just watch what happens! But wait,’ she
