Everyone in town was crowding into the old social hall in Chester, a village of 200 people in the middle of Sanpete Valley in central Utah. It was the late 1950s. I was 5 and with my family, eager to get inside where there was to be a Christmas Eve program.Right away, the Mormon bishop's counselor bustled to the stage to conduct the meeting. He looked, as usual, sleepy. Like other men there, he had just rushed through the evening chores on his dairy farm. He sat in a chair in front of the curtain.The congregation sung "Joy to the World." The bishop's wife said pertly at the piano, playing the melody and a few harmony notes with her right hand, conducting with her left. She was the only real musician in town, played for every event and took her position very seriously.During the last verse, another farmer, who had a herd of cows bound in, rushed to the front and began conducting in a steady up-and-down pattern, very like milking his cows.By the time the singers reached the last phrase, the pianist was playing with both hands.Then the most wonderful part of all — My mother got up to present her Christmas television and the only story it could tell. She positioned a medium-size cardboard box covered with white wallpaper on a table on the front of the stage, and adjusted a lamp to shine from behind, illuminating the cut-out rectangle that was like a screen. Two cardboard tubes protruded through both sides of the box, one above and one below the screen. The tubes were fastened to a long scroll of butcher paper, and on it were six silhouette scenes cut from black construction paper. My older brothers Dennis and Gary crouched down on either side, ready to turn the scroll. Momma stepped behind the curtain.The lights in the room went off, leaving only the glow of the cardboard television. We didn't have television at home. Many of the others didn't, either. But we all recognized the lighted box with black and white figures inside.The boys turned the tube to bring the first picture to the bright opening. A silhouette of Bethlehem appeared, black shapes portraying flat-roof houses and palm trees. Light gleamed through windows in the houses and in the sky. Momma read, "And it came to pass in those days"A cow, a donkey and a manger outlined against the shining white background uncurled in front of the light. "And she brought forth her first-born son"We heard a snort and snore from the stand. Sure enough, the bishop's counselor was asleep. The boys snickered as they turned the scroll. Shepherds and sheep appeared on the screen. "And there in the same country shepherds" A moment later, the outline of angels appeared, one playing a great, long trumpet like Angel Moroni. "For unto you is born this day"The audience was transfixed, except the bishop's counselor sleeping in his chair.Suddenly a tiny, gray mouse appeared in the pond of light behind the television on the table, stopping there and wiggling its nose. "A mouse!" someone shrieked, and the audience broke into noise. The poor mouse could find no hole to escape to except the baggy, brown pants of the sleeping counselor, and in it darted. The man jolted upright, fully awake, grabbed at his pant leg, where he bunched the cloth around the mouse and ran outside. People laughed and called out.Laughing, my brothers turned to the next silhouette. Wise men riding camels came into view. "Now when Jesus was born in Bethlehem" People quieted down and gazed at the Christmas television. By the time Momma was reciting "presented unto him gifts; gold, frankincense and myrrh," everyone was again focused on the silhouettes in the box. The boys rolled the tubes to reveal the last scene, Mary and Joseph and the baby, with a star overhead. "Mary kept all these things," Momma said, "and pondered them in her heart." The pianist began — with both hands — to play "Silent Night" and everyone sang.Soon we were outside, going to the car under the frigid light of many, many stars, none brighter than the rest. Our star had been the one in the last scene of the Christmas television show, bright enough to cheer the hearts of our entire town, including the sleepy counselor and maybe even the mouse in his pant leg.
David Rosier is an associate professor of English at Snow College. He is a member of the Spring City 1st Ward, Mount Pleasant Utah Stake.