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Christmas chill made warm memories in bustling 1960s Bluefield

Cold. I kept the covers under my chin until I heard the stove door shut and the grates moving. Daddy got the fire going and soon Mom was frying sausage

Bluefield and blessings of the season in Nature s Air-Conditioned City | Opinion

Dec 19, 2020 Larry Hypes Daddy shook the grates and I heard him take out the ashes, a good sign because the house was already warm when my feet hit the floor as it was getting good daylight the Saturday before Christmas. Even better, the sausage, gravy, eggs and biscuits filled the breakfast table as Mom did her part to prepare us for heading to Bluefield. We fed the chickens, watered the cows, scattered a bale of hay for them and then Daddy started the little ‘53 Ford while Mom finished getting ready. We got the paper from Mr. Haven, started down the road and waved at Uncle Jabo because Dad had gotten the tank full of Gulf No-Nox on Friday evening before when he got home from U.S. Steel No. 14 mine. Uncle Gene was outside at Grandma Dalton’s and he grinned when I yelled “Merry Christmas!” from the back seat. Mr. Morrall was adjusting holiday lights on the Morning Star restaurant at the top of the hill above the Abb’s Valley School, and he, to

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