Chaos and a Christmas reunion collided head-on for the Reardon family in 1936.
Bobby Reardon, seven-year-old younger son of Thomas and Amanda, recalled the event vividly even after 70 years.
Numerous rambunctious cousins descended like a hurricane upon the Reardon household, along with their irrepressible parents, to shower affections upon Harvey's grandparents who had lived with his family since he was old enough to remember.
Chaotic, it was, with adults as well as children bursting into and out of the kitchen for snacks and drinks, his father's English setter Lulu about ready to deliver her pups, their bulldog Oscar disappearing, and Harvey's brown mare Nellie in a temperamental mood.
Harvey's heavy-set father managed a grocery store, which was one of a chain spread throughout west Florida, southern Alabama, and southwest Georgia and supervised by one of Harvey's mother's brothers.
This uncle constantly raised Harvey's mother's blood pressure every time she rode with him because he incessantly pumped the accelerator of his car.
However, back to Harvey's father and the store he managed with Harvey's mother's occasional assistance, especially during the Christmas rush.
On Christmas Eve they worked frantically with the hired help to fill a rush of orders, deliver a mass of call-ups, and shut the business down in an orderly fashion by 8 p.
m.
At home Harvey's agile, white-haired grandmother busily supervised preparations for meals with the help of a black employee and struggled futilely to avoid the children who seemed to stay constantly underfoot, not to mention their elders.
His grandfather, disabled with scoliosis of his back, kept a cheerful demeanor and patiently entertained the over-active children with board games like checkers and "Go Fishing.
" He also found time to reconcile the grocery story accounts for Harvey's father, a bookkeeping task that Thomas insisted on remunerating him for.
Since the reunion had been a last-minute idea, chaos obviously ran rampant as Harvey's harried mother scurried about to find accommodations for the huge brood.
Back at the grocery store, Harvey's father and employees feverishly took orders over the phone from frantic customers who had realized very late that they were short of some item needed for preparation of the Christmas dinner.
Bill, a self-effacing, tall, slender black delivery man, resignedly but good-naturedly loaded the orders into an old-model sedan.
A very capable driver, he successfully navigated unpaved, slippery, muddy hills to delivery many of the orders.
Once Harvey had ridden with him to help and was amazed and greatly relieved as Bill efficiently managed to stay out of flooded ditches at the side of the muddy inclines.
When Oscar, the family bulldog pet, failed to show up by Christmas Eve, Harvey and his cousins organized a search of all the places they could think of in the neighborhood but no one had seen Oscar.
Disheartened, they ended the search as darkness settled in.
As Christmas Eve quickly drew toward a close and stores neared closing time, Harvey's family and relatives rushed about frantically to purchase last minute presents, including Harvey's father, who always waited to the last minute for the Christmas spirit to hit him.
Harvey and his cousins raced wildly about the house, too eager to eat much Christmas Eve dinner, speculating loudly as to what special treasures awaited them among the burgeoning stack of gaily wrapped packages beneath the sparkling tree lights and in the bulging Christmas stockings hanging from the holly-festooned mantle piece above a cozy, warming fire.
Finally Harvey's grandfather succeeded in corralling the wild bunch around an easy chair near the fire hearth and mesmerized them with two stories: Clement Moore's "The Night before Christmas," and the celebrated account of the Birth of Jesus from the Gospel of Matthew.
At the end of the latter story, Harvey's grandfather reminded them that Jesus' Coming was what they were celebrating at Christmas.
Sleepy, subdued, and exhausted, the children easily retired to their beds, although most of them found it hard to fall asleep, still wondering what gifts awaited them the following morning-Christmas Day! The next morning at dawn bedlam erupted again as Harvey and his cousins bounded from their beds and raced chaotically into the living room to behold the wonders before them around the Christmas tree with eyes widened with awe and joy.
There before them were streamlined bicycles, assortments of dolls and doll houses, speeding trains, shiny red trucks, and stuffed bears, gingerbread boys and girls, and other toys.
But before the wrapped packages could be distributed and eagerly opened, the children had to settle down long enough with their elders to down a breakfast of pancakes, biscuits, buttered toast, bacon, cereal, fruit, eggs, and grits with milk or orange juice.
They squirmed and chatted about what awaited them back in the living room while their parents and grandparents smiled and chatted quietly.
After gobbling down their breakfast, the children sprang from their chairs and raced for the coveted gifts, leaving behind a chaos of smeared dishes, soiled napkins, and spilled beverages.
With Christmas music from the radio filling the room, Harvey's father was designated to play Santa and give out the brightly wrapped gifts.
First he handed out a gift to each of Harvey's cousins; then he lifted an oblong package and teasingly speculated about its contents.
Finally he placed the present in Harvey's eager hands.
He already suspected what it was! "Be careful with this, Buck," his father cautioned.
"Yes, sir," Harvey assured him, tearing the wrapping from the box and yelping as he pulled a gleaming Red Ryder B-B rifle from it.
"Wow!" the boy said.
"Thanks, Dad! And I'll be real careful.
" Harvey's brown eyes shone.
Soon the living room was a chaotic mass of discarded wrapping paper, ribbons, bows, boxes, and piles of Christmas clothes and other items.
"Hey, look at this!" Harvey's red-headed cousin shouted.
He held up a classic cowboy outfit complete with hat, vest, boots, and holster and gun.
"I got one, too!" Harvey laughed.
"Let's put them on and play cowboys and Indians.
" Some of the other cousins had received Indian outfits; there was another chaotic outburst as the children stampeded from the room to change.
After cowboys and Indians the cousins took turns riding the shiny new red bicycles-falls and skinned limbs taking their toll-scrimmaging with new footballs, and playing tag and Hide and Seek.
Some of the girls preferred less chaotic activity and stayed indoors with their new dolls and dollhouses.
Amongst all the accidents, Harvey toppled off the porch railing as he tried to subdue his cousin Ron.
His head hit the ground hard and he momentarily lost consciousness.
His solicitous cousins gathered around him while Harvey's parents made him comfortable on a porch sofa.
His grandmother brought a damp cloth to place on his forehead.
As soon as he recovered he was ready to dive into vigorous games again, but his father suggested he take Nellie out for a ride instead.
That proved to be a mistake, for the little mare wanted least to be saddled and bridled.
She balked testily as Harvey struggled with cinching the straps tightly around her extended belly and impatiently fitted the bridle bit between her nipping teeth.
With some of the cousins gleefully looking on, Harvey mounted his skittish pony and nudged her sides with his heels, reining her off toward the schoolhouse at the reins.
Finally, as they reached the schoolhouse, Nellie had had enough and somehow managed to grip the bit between her teeth so that Harvey was helpless to control her.
The mare swung around and broke into a chaotic dash for home.
Harvey helplessly grabbed the saddle's pommel and screamed for Nellie to stop.
Nellie sped heedlessly toward the large oak tree with a low hanging limb in front of the house.
Harvey desperately hung on and bent forward into Nellie's whipping mane as she raced under the oak limb.
The stubborn mare finally came to a screeching halt at her corral and stood quietly while Harvey slowly slid shakily out of the saddle, stunned but greatly relieved that he had survived.
He was suddenly aware that his cousins were laughing at his plight.
It took strenuous effort to curb a flare of anger.
Instead, Harvey smiled sheepishly, unsaddled Nellie, and led her inside her stable.
After feeding her some oats, he joined his cousins and some of the adults for a more sedate activity of croquet in which the various colored balls flew about chaotically as players attempted to knock opponents' balls away from the brackets.
Christmas Day afternoon, after a hectic but bountiful yuletide feast, everyone was herded onto the front porch steps and lawn for photographs.
Getting the crowd together was itself a monumental, if not chaotic, task.
Pictures were taken of the whole group (four generations), including the grandmother and grandfather, and Harvey's parents with Harvey and his brother Thomas, Junior, sitting on their respective laps.
After picture taking, while the adults rested, chatted quietly, or drank coffee, Harvey's cousin Ron suggested they take turns target shooting with Harvey's new Red Ryder B-B rifle.
As it turned out, the pellets seemed to hit everything but the paper targets tacked to the equipment shed, including a squawking chicken and Thomas Junior's bleating Billy goat.
When a volley of B-B's struck Ron in his buttocks, the activity was brought to a screeching halt.
In the late afternoon Harvey's mother rushed to the front door and announced the news that the English setter Lulu was birthing her puppies on the back porch.
The children made a chaotic dash to witness the joyful occasion.
By the time they arrived, Lulu had already given birth to two little balls of white and brown fur.
As everyone watched, mesmerized, Lulu calmly and proudly delivered 10 more squirming pups.
There was much clapping and laughter as the newborns eagerly sought the mother setter's milk-dripping nipples.
"Good girl!" Harvey's dad congratulated her.
"I want one!" cried one of the female cousins.
"Me, too!" another squealed.
"When Jenny has weaned them," Harvey's father chuckled.
But the memorable Christmas reunion was not over yet.
By supper time everyone was exhausted and settled down to a quiet meal of holiday leftovers and joyful carols.
As the gathering exchanged memories of the day, a sudden pattering of feet interrupted the peaceful setting.
Harvey felt something wet and warmly fuzzy against his hand.
"Oscar!" he exclaimed.
"You're back! You're okay!" He sprang out of his chair and Oscar, a black and white half birddog-bulldog, leaped up happily against him, eagerly trying to lick his face.
As Harvey's cousins all gathered around to pet Oscar, a tall black man appeared in the kitchen doorway.
It was Bill, the grocery delivery man, with an old tweed cap in his mobile hands.
"Come in, Bill," Harvey's father invited him.
"How about some turkey and Christmas cheer!" Chuckling, Bill said, "Don't mind if I do.
"Your dog Oscar-he showed up at my place.
I believe he must have been shut up somewhere and escaped.
He had a cut or two on him.
I don't know why he comes to my home, but that's where he comes.
" Harvey and his family knew why: Last year Oscar had been resting under a car parked in front of the grocery store.
The vehicle had backed over him, injuring him so badly that Harvey's father had wanted to put him to sleep.
But Bill had pleaded with Harvey's father to let him take the dog home with him to nurse.
The black man had saved the dog's life and Oscar had not forgotten that kindness.
"Truly a wonderful message for Christmas celebration," Harvey's grandfather said quietly.