This Christmas season Bertha Carico would have been 122 years old (December 22). In a newspaper interview in December 1979, she recalled that her fondest memories are of holidays with a tree with simply decorated with strings of popcorn and homemade candy.
Bertha was raised in Kansas and, in 1904, moved to property three miles west of New Plymouth with her husband, Hugh Wilfong. It was nothing that dust and sagebrush.
Their home was a tent for six months while her husband built a two-story three-bedroom home. She recalled that it had a big living room and kitchen combination and a parlor with heating stove, lamps and lanterns. The Christmas tree stood in the corner. Christmas with her husband, Hugh, and two children never varied much, but they embodied "the true spirit of Christmas."
She said, "We mostly had Christmas at home. That meant staying home and eating something good with the family. We didn't spend a lot of stuff from the store."
"For gifts, we'd give something useful, like a sweater and a stick of candy. The only thing we’d get from the store was sugar and flour. Popcorn balls were made along with divinity and candied apples. We were good cooks and normally would have a baked chicken for dinner - just a normal Christmas dinner at home."
" Just about everyone had a Christmas like that. The only entertainment was at a community gathering at the church in town. We didn't have big parties nor celebrations, and we never had Christmas cards," she said.
Fun for the kids and adults would be a day spent a sled behind a pony. "We get all hooked up in the horse with tear off. We all go flying off everywhere. You don't have that kind of fun anymore."
She said that their Christmases were reflections of their day-to-day lives of ranching and raising chickens. "In the summer, we'd gathered wild fruits such as gooseberries, and the hills were covered with strawberries. We'd catch fish in the streams. Rabbits were plentiful and tasted just like chicken."
During the great depression her savings were lost when the banks closed. "We just toughed it out. I can do just about anything - and live through anything," she said.
To get through the lean years, she raised and sold canaries and poultry and made regular trips, in a wagon, to sell her homemade lard. "You didn't make much, but if I hadn't done those things we never would have stayed on top. Prices were low because there was no demand. We’d take a bushel of apples to town and sell them for twenty-five cents. We butchered our own cattle and hogs for meat.
"People don't have the Christmas spirit they used to. There's too much partying and watching television. There's no togetherness at home. When I think of the things I live through, I don't know how I did it."
She had some advice that may be hard to swallow in this era of office parties and Christmas glitter.
"They're making it more dog-eat-dog. All those beautiful gifts, and they entertain in such a big way. If it were up to me, people should cut out driving their car - stay-at-home and mind their own business like we all had to do."
Bertha’s second husband died in 1969. In 1978 she fell and broke her hip and had to move into a convalescent care center in Payette. She died April 2, 1983 and is buried in the New Plymouth Cemetery, not far from her old home.
Another Christmas Story
It was 1873 and our first Christmas Eve was celebrated by going across the Snake River on the icy ferry boat and up to the dance at Macamb Smith’s place near Malheur Butte. Mr. Stroup hitched up the mules to a sled he’d built from leftover pieces of lumber. We picked up Mr. and Mrs. Womack, who were new to the Payette Valley. On the Malheur River we picked at Mr. and Mrs. George Brinnon and children of their home. The ground was covered with snow and very cold. From the Brinnon’s place on, the snow covered road was unbroken. The sled was small so the men, Mr. Brinnon and Mr. Womack, walked.
We follow the cattle trails, whenever possible, one mule in the trail and the other walked in the snow. It soon became a serious matter as the snow was crested with ice and the mules legs were cut and bleeding. We stopped to ponder what to do. Mrs. Brinnon suggested that a blanket be torn into strips that the men could use to wrap around the mules legs. This they did and then the men tramped on ahead breaking a trail through the crusted snow.
We were all excited at the prospect of meeting our friends at the dance. Upon arriving at the festivities we were hailed with genuine delight as we related our difficulties getting there.
N. A. Jacobsen played the fiddle and was accompanied by someone playing the accordion. The women at the party were with their husbands, who had braved the cold weather and snow. Only one teenager was present, a girl of 15. Some of the couples arrived with oxen hitched to a wagon or sled. Many of the bachelors had walked all the way in their gum boots.
The people visited, danced and enjoyed themselves. A lunch was served at midnight and a breakfast at daylight Christmas Day. We waited until the warmest part of the afternoon to leave our friends and start for home.
This story was related by Mrs. Jacob Stroup, a pioneer of the Washoe Ferry area. She died in 1935.