Ihr liewe Leit:
Schunn Yaahre lenger ass der Alt Professer sei Kallem am Schreiwe
iss, iss der C. Richard Beam sei kallem “Ess Pennsifaanisch Deitsch Eck” am
Schreiwe (seit 1970). Am 22 Disember 1982 hot der Beam em Paul “Papa” Horning
(1894-1986) sei Schtick “Grischtdaag ans Groossdaadis” rausgewwe. Do sin en
paar Linye:
Mer sin zimmlich frieh Grischtdaag marigeds im Schlidde ans
Groossdaadis gfahre. Es waar kalt, un der Paepp un die Memm hen en schwerer
Blaenket iwwer die Schoos ghatt, un mir Buwe hen hinne drunne in dief Schtroh
ghockt.
Wu mir hiekumme sin, sin mir Buwe un die Memm graad ins Haus wu es
waarem waar un hot gut geroche: Gensfleesch am Reeschde mit Keschde Fillsell,
Grummbiere, Siessgrummbiere, gedatt Welschkann am Koche un noch meh. Der Paepp
un der Groossdaadi hen der Gaul ausgschpannt un hen ihn in der Schtall gebunne.
Glei iss die Beesel Saere un der Tschan kumme un die Beesel Lissi un ihre
Familye aa. Mir Kinner waare glei am Schpiele,un die Eldre ware am Blaudre.
So baut zwelf Uhr waar’s Bgrischtdaagsesse uffem Disch. O yammer,
so en Esse hen mir net oft gsehne bei uns! Do waar en groossi gerechdi Gans,
keschde Fillsell, heemgebackt Brot un Schmieres, Grummbiere Saess, gedatt
Welschkann, Siessgrummbiere, Rotriewe, Grautsellaad, gedamfde Biere, Gwettsche,
Minsboi, hock Kuche un Kaffi.
Ich denk sell iss all – ennihau, all ass ich versuche hab kenne, un
es waar genunck fer mir Brauchweh mache. Deel vun de Mannsleit hen gschmookt,
un deel sin waahrhafdich eisgschloofe. Die Weibsleit hen schier en gansi
Schtunn Gscharr gewesche. Mei Paepp un der Groossdaadi sin gange es Vieh un
die Sei zu fiedre.
Zwee vun unsre Kasins hen scheene Grischtdaagslieder gsunge un des
hot so schee gelaut. Die Zeit iss kumme fer heemgeh. ‘Ei,” hot die Groossmammi
gsaat, ‘bleibt ihr net fer Nachtesse?” awwer nimmand waar hungrich un hett aa
ken Blatz finne kenne fer noch meh Esse hieduh.
Die menschde vun uns hen uns vorgenumme ghatt letscht Yaahr net so
viel esse die neegschde Grischtdaag, awwer sell waar alles vergesse,un mir hen
doch zu viel gesse.
Es waar awwer ee Ding ass mir net vergesse ghatt hen kenne – ass
des em Heiland sei Begottsdaag waar.
Hoffentlich habt all ihr liewe Leser der schennsscht Grischtdaag
assihr eier Lebdaag ghatt habt!
Macht’s gut,
Der Alt Professer
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Dear people:
Already years before the old Professor started writing his column,
Prof. C. Richard Beam was writing a column “The Pennsylvania German
(Dutch) Corner” (since 1970). On December 22, 1982 Beam published Paul
‘Papa” Horning’s piece “Christmas at Granddaddys’s” Here are a few lines:
We quite early on Christmas morning drove to Granddad’s in the
sleigh. It was cold, and Pop and Mom had a heavy blanket over their laps,
and we boys sat down below in deep straw.
When we got there, we boys and Mom went right into the house where
it was warm and smelled so good: Goose meat roasting, with chestnut
filling, potatoes, sweet potatoes, dried corn cooking and even more. Pop
and Granddaddy unhitched the horse and tied him in the stall. Soon my
cousin Sara and John came and my cousin Lizzy and her family too. We
children were soon playing, and the parents were talking.
About twelve o’clock
the Christmas diner was on the table. Oh, my, such a meal we haven’t often
seen at our house! There was a big roasted goose, chestnut filing,
home-baked bread and spread, mashed potatoes, dried corn, sweet potatoes,
red beets, cole slaw, steamed potatoes, plums, mince pie, cake and coffee.
I think that is all –
anyhow, all that I could try/taste, and it was enough to give me a stomach
ache. Some of the men smoked, and some actually fell asleep. The women
almost took an entire hour to wash the dishes. My dad and grandfather went
to feed the cattle and pigs.
Two of our cousins sang nice
Christmas songs/carols and that sounded so nice. The time came to go home.
“Oh,” grandma said, “aren’t you staying for supper?” but nobody was hungry
and could not have found room anyhow to put more food.
Most of us had planned last year not to eat so much on the next
Christmas, but that was all forgotten, and we ate too much anyhow.
But there was one thing that we could not forget – that this was
the Savior’s birthday!
I hope that you dear readers have the nicest Christmas that you
have ever had!
Take care,
The Old Professor
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