Seven Cakes – Though Dirt Poor, They Had Cake For Christmas

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Life during the depression in rural Alabama wasn’t too different from any other time of year for my people. You see, they were sharecroppers – dirt farmers who didn’t even own their own dirt. They wouldn’t have known if the world had been prosperous, their lives had always been a struggle of hard work and all too often relying on hope for the next meal.

This time of year, there wasn’t a whole lot to be thankful for, other than the fact that there wasn’t any cotton to pick. For them, winter was as bleak as the Alabama landscape. In Alabama, we are not often afforded the sight of glistening snow resting atop hills and trees in a winter wonderland. Here, the sky just gets gray and the landscape browns – bare trees, brown grass, and muddy earth where fields lay in wait for spring as far as the eye can see.

My great grandmother had four children and they all lived in a small shack house. Wood was a precious thing and that meant only heating one room. My grandmamma says “it got so cold at night. Mama would heat rocks and wrap ‘em up in old towels and things to put in bed with us but we still got so cold. You didn’t dare get out of that bed unless you just had to”.

Families would work all year for the farmer in exchange for monthly rations of staples such as dried beans, flour, and the occasional bit of meat. At harvest’s end they’d get a percentage of profits on the cotton, but all of the staples which had been provided for them were then deducted from the final cost, leaving families in a continued state of dependence upon the farm owner for enough food to survive the winter.

But with winter came Christmas, and my great grandmother always did manage to make it special despite their hardships. Lela’s life had always been a hard one. Growing up one of nine children in Jackson County, she had spent her childhood traveling from farm to farm with her parents and siblings, picking cotton and tending to whatever crops the farm owner decided to plant. Now she had four kids to provide a Christmas for and keeping them fed and clothed took about all she had and then some.

But she never failed them. She always came through, especially at Christmastime.

Lela squirreled away ingredients all year long. A little sugar here, some dried apples there, maybe some raisins and a bit of cinnamon. After the kids went to bed on Christmas Eve, she’d set to work. Using only what she had on hand and no recipes to speak of, Lela would stay awake all night baking cakes in her little wood stove. She’d make an apple stack cake, a raisin cake, yellow cake with chocolate icing, peanut butter cake, and so on. There was never a plan beyond that of needing to make seven of them – one for each day from Christmas until the New Year.

The next morning, four sets of eyes would open wide and four sets of feet would hurry out of their cold beds into the only heated room in the house where their faces would light up at seeing the bounty of seven cakes sitting on the worn kitchen table. I know how their faces looked because my grandmother’s still lights up the same way now, some seventy years later, when she talks about those cakes. The kids took turns being the one to choose the cake they ate that day and between the six of them and any company who happened by, they made short work of it and were ready to start with a new one the next morning.

Most kids today would consider having cakes baked for you as your only Christmas gift to be a disappointment. But amid all of the wrappings and bows, gift sets and feasts, I hope your Christmas somehow manages to be as magical as it was in that little sharecroppers house in Alabama during the depression, when four kids woke up with stars in their eyes at finding seven cakes.

Gratefully,
Christy

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430 Comments

  1. Thank you for sharing such a beautiful story. I had to wipe away a tear. My Grandma would tell us stories like this when I was little. Makes you a whole lot more grateful for what we have.
    My husband had a heart attack on Labor Day and had stints and later open heart surgery. He has just this last two weeks gone back to work and it was sure nice to have a paycheck again. We have told the kids Christmas was going to be much smaller this year, but you know we have presents under the tree, plenty to eat and most importantly a Grandpa/Daddy/and Husband to sit around that tree with. I am the most blessed woman alive this year. I couldn’t think of anything I’d rather have.
    Merry Christmas to you and your family!
    Lori

  2. Wow…I have tears in my eyes, too, Christy~
    What a sweet memory and such a legacy to hold onto.
    I know you’re a great cook and must take after your g-grandmother,
    but I think you have a good story to write, too!
    Blessings to you and yours….
    Merry Christmas, Christy~
    Diane 🙂

  3. Wow, my husband grew up in Hartselle, AL. Your story reminds me of the way he lived also. He picked cotton from the time he was 3 years old until age 12. He shares how they picked wild onions to eat with hot cornbread and wonder what the poor folks were doing, not realizing they were dirt poor. Thank you for sharing such a beautiful story.

  4. That is such a wonderful story. Women can be absolutely amazing in their abiblities to make so much out of so little. What a wonderful way to make Christmas exciting and not just one day but for seven days. I am sure one cake would have been a treat but seven!! We had our family Christmas last nite and I wish we had had this to read. It would have touched all and awakened to them how blessed we are.

  5. Dear Christy,
    This is my first Christmas following Southern Plate. Thank you so much for that story! God bless you & your family. Merry Christmas!!

  6. My grandmother raised 9 children in south Georgia during the depression. While they were not share-croppers, they were very poor. She was a marvalous cook. One of her speciality cakes I remember was a Japanese fruit cake. As a child, I did not like it, but my Mother sure did. She also made a yellow cake with chocolate icing. Thanks for the reminder of how blessed we all are today.

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