English: Lydia Maria Child (February 11, 1802 – July 7, 1880) was an American abolitionist, women’s rights activist, opponent of American expansionism, Indian rights activist, novelist, and journalist. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
For this post I don’t have to go far from home to remind me of the holiday season, of Thanksgiving and Christmas. I’m reminded of one day in the 1980’s when I toured the home of Lydia Maria Childs’ grandparents who had owned an old Georgian Colonial on the other side of the Mystic River in Medford, Massachusetts in the U.S.A. I had saved up enough money for a down payment on a house and Lydia Maria Childs’ grandparents old home was for sale. I toured the house with my husband and I was extremely excited by the prospect of owning such a wonderful piece of American history. I said yes to the real estate agents offer of a purchase price of only $42,000. Unfortunately, after adding up the costs of owning and maintaining such a large structure, we decided against the purchase and moved on to other options. At a later date, Tufts University bought the home for a huge sum and the house remains on the U.S. Trust for Historic Preservations’ registered historic homes list.
Lydia Maria Child was a author, abolitionist and activist who was born into a prominent New England family in Medford, Massachusetts. She was schooled in her early years in Medford Schools. She would often visit her grandparents at their home and wrote this song as an adult. Sometimes when the snow is deep and the air is chill, you can almost see the her sleigh coming across the old Craddock Bridge in Medford Square.
Over the River and Through the Woods to Grandfather’s House We Go
By Lydia Maria Child
Over the river, and through the wood,
to Grandfather’s house we go:
the horse knows the way to carry the sleigh
through the white and drifted snow.
Over the river, and through the wood,to Grandfather’s house away!
We would not stop for doll or top,
for ’tis Thanksgiving Day.
Over the river, and through the wood
oh, how the wind does blow!
It stings the toes and bites the nose,
as over the ground we go.
Over the river, and through the wood,
and straight trough the barnyard gate,
We seem to go extremely slow,
it is so hard to wait!
Over the river, and through the wood,
when Grandmother sees us come,
She will say, ‘o, dear, the children are here,
bring a pie for every one.’
Over the river, and through the wood,
now Grandmothers cap I spy!
Hurrah for the fun! Is the pudding done?
Hurrah for the pumpkin pie!
May your holidays be as filled with joy as the young Lydia Maria Childs’ was on that long ago Thanksgiving Day.
The World Holidays and Traditions Reader 