A common thread between people that love vintage items are the stories that often accompany them. I
most definitely fall into that group. My grandparent’s life and their stories were heavy influences on my
love for older things. Even though they started off with little, their creativity and ingenuity helped them
create a home together. It was the simple things that were important to them, like sharing what they
had and creating an inviting space for each other. Throughout their decades together, they were
resourceful using second-hand things and their own hands to create a home for their family, friends, and
those in need. The simplicity of things in their home was overshadowed by their hospitality and
willingness to host and serve. I love that so many of the vintage things I enjoy today were functional
pieces for people of that era. Now, we can choose to use it in for its intended purpose or just to add to
our aesthetic. I still have my grandmother’s faded ironstone platter, hand-built China Cabinet, and her
aluminum teapot: it will always make me think of her smile. Grateful to be able to share their first
Christmas story written by my late grandfather. – Written by Kerry Rogers, First Edition Wares Shop
$1.00 Christmas – a true vintage love story
We were two people in love, barely 18 years old and not even dry behind the ears. Wilma and I were
married the 21st day of April 1934 during the Great Depression. People were living in poverty during
the Dust Bowl days and the dust was so bad you had to wear a rag over your face so you could
breathe. The days would turn dark as night. People by the millions were out of work. Wages were
small if you could find work at all. Many people left Oklahoma just looking for jobs. For months I had
only had odd jobs and barely enough money to buy food, coal, and kerosene. Pretty Boy Floyd, Bonnie
and Clyde and soup kitchens were the news of the day. People were living on the banks of the river.
They had few belongings, and not enough food or clothing. In my mind, it will always be a pitiful sight.
Wilma and I awoke facing a bleak Christmas Eve day. No job, no food, no heat. The water faucet was
outside and had frozen. We could see outside it was drizzling and spitting snow. Our little house had
1 x 12 boards for walls, with bare wood floors – no sheetrock or insulation. We could hear the wind
whistling through the cracks and water dripping into pans that we had put on the floor.
Our only belongings were a 3/4 bed, a tin belly wood heater, a small sofa and a 2-burner kerosene
cook stove. On the walls I had nailed wooden, orange crates for Wilma to use as cabinets. I turned 2
upright with a board across so she could set her stove on it. She had made little curtains to hang from
the front. We did not have much, but there were others who had less. I had not enjoyed real
Christmas gifts like some others. Our childhood Christmas was always going to the church to receive a
sack of candy and nuts. I’m not complaining. There were seven boys and two girls in our family, and it
took all the money my dad had to feed and clothe us and pay our bills. I would not trade my childhood
days at home for all the gifts in the world. It was a family of love. We cared and shared the little we
had with each other.
That Christmas eve morning, lying there in bed and looking at her, something burned within me to
make this the Christmas that she would remember for a lifetime. Even as bad as it was outside, I
asked her if she would help gather pecans so that we might exchange gifts. With a big smile she said
yes. Neither of us had warm clothes so we got up and put on all the clothes we had. My shoes were
worn-out on the bottom, so I cut cardboard and put in my shoes so my feet would not touch the
ground; we had gunny sacks and I wrapped them around my feet. We left our little house holding
hands and started towards Squaw Creek. I knew she was hungry so the first pecans we picked we ate ourselves so that we could make it through the day. We searched for hours bending over all that day
and I knew she was tired. It was nearing 4:00 PM and we needed to get back to town to sell our load.
We had to walk fast and that bag felt like it weighted 100 pounds. The Creamery was closing early
because of Christmas. We watched as Mr. Fuller put our bag on the scales. They were all size of
pecans and several had warm holes in them. After a time, he said there was one dollar’s worth. We
then hurried on to the general store before it closed. Going in different directions, I found her an
aluminum percolator pot. Our old coffee pot was just a can used to boil water and put the grounds in.
I paid $0.15 for the percolator. Wilma only had one slip; by day she wore it under her dress and by
night it was her gown. Next, I found a flannel gown for only twenty cents and some gloves to cover
her sweet hands. We met at the front door and between us we had twenty cents left over so I took
her down to Sid’s hamburgers and we each had a hamburger and a coke. We started walking home
towards our little shack. I knew we had no firewood, so we picked up a couple of orange crates and
carried them home. We lit the kerosene lamp and built a fire from the pine wood crates. The fire got
so hot that the pipes were red hot. Finally warming up for the first time that day we sat fireside and
sang Christmas songs. I could hardly wait to see her open her gifts! We took turns pulling things out of
our sacks. She squealed the loudest when she saw the coffee pot. I received socks, a scarf, and a pair
of gloves. I don’t think she will ever be as beautiful as she was that night in her new gown.
There was a glow and radiance of love that will last a lifetime in my heart. The lamp had burned itself out and the fire died down, so we went to bed with a joyous feeling. As she lay in my arms, we pondered the
greatest gift of all. It was not what we had given one another, but what God had given to us, a baby in
a manger, our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Merry Christmas to all!
When I decided to start up my vintage resale shop, I knew that there would be others who could also
see past the flaws or imperfections, embracing them as part of the charm. Whether you like the older
styles, the quality of vintage items, or the objective of recycling or re-using, vintage décor can (and often
does) evoke old memories, add depth and character to a new space, but it can also be a chance to re-
purpose something in a way that might create a new story that your family will always remember.
Whether it be the curtains hanging from the orange crates or the sight and smells of the percolating
coffee, it all adds up to creating a home. To play even a little part in that through First Edition Wares
brings such a smile to my face.
