Wichita Rutherford remembers things most of us were unaware ever happened. When I asked him about his favorite Christmas memories the other day, he poured his heart out, and asked that we share it all with you.
Christmas. What a wonderful time of year. When the snow falls and the family gathers and the fire glows in the living room it reminds me of when I was younger and of the little Bluegrass children who would one day grow up to be stars scampering around the Christmas dinner table. I think about all the times a little Mac Wiseman would be singing “Christmas Memories.” I can still see a tiny Arthel Watson asking his mother when the cornbread would be ready and a short haired Ronnie McCoury jumping up on my lap thinking I was Santa Claus’s brother, Richard, because I was so fat. I’ll never forget the time Tim O’Brien was a toddler and threw up up on my aunt Pearl because he’d been eating tinsel all morning. Then there were the ever precious, pre-teen, Sonny and Bobby Osborne fighting over who would be the first to give me a “wet willie” (that’s when you lick your finger and stick it in somebody’s ear when they’re not looking) while I was wrapping presents for Jerry Douglas and Sam Bush who thought they were hiding in the box I brought the new refrigerator in. It was supposed to be a submarine or a spaceship. I can’t remember which. As a matter of fact I had to spank Ricky Skaggs a few minutes after that for giving Larry Cordle a wedgie… for the 3rd time. Then Doyle Lawson kept sassing me and I couldn’t catch him because he ran so fast. Those 8 year olds are quick. Then there was sweetest little flower of all of Christmas time, the baby, Alison Krauss. Oh what a precious little angel. 2 years old. Oh my goodness, gosh-a-mighty me. I would just talk to her and she would giggle and smile and laugh and scooch around in that little high-chair. Then she threw her fork and put my eye out.