Grandma’s Christmas tree was always decorated with construction paper circles and long silver icicles.

She had a paper bag for each grandchild under the tree containing a chocolate covered cream candy, a pecan, walnut and penny. We thought it was the greatest gift in the world.

After inspecting our paper bags, we hurried to the dining room to sideboard to see the wonderful dried apple and coconut custard pies and her dark moist fruit cake that had been basted with homemade blackberry wine since Thanksgiving.

Her recipes had been handed down for generations. The dried apple pies were made from apples that she cut and dried in the sun on a large square of muslin.

She drove a 10-penny nail through the 3 eyes in a fresh coconut and drained it in a cup. She cracked the coconut into small pieces with a hammer and peeled off shell and tough skin before grating it into a bowl.

She rarely measured anything – just a pinch of this and a handful of that.

The secret for the pastry was to roll it as thin as possible – so thin you could almost see through it.

She always made fried chicken and dressing, green beans and mashed potatoes with flaky baking powder biscuits and gravy.

Everything was cooked in cast iron pots and pans on a cast iron stove.

The grown-ups sat at the big table and grandchildren at little tables.

My memories are happy in thinking of those wonderful days when we gathered at Grandma’s house for Christmas dinner but sad in thinking of our dear departed loved ones who used to gather around her dining room table so long ago.

Retired USC professor Pat McNeely writes historical non-fiction and is a member of Authors for Literacy.