HEARTS OF APPALACHIA PROJECT

If an Appalachian schoolhouse Christmas had a heartbeat, it thumped loudest inside that little coal camp schoolhouse. The walls were thin, the floorboards creaked, and the stove rattled every time someone sneezed — but in December, it felt like the warmest place in the world.

In much of Appalachia, Christmas didn’t always end when the wrapping paper was swept up. For some families, the real celebration waited quietly until January 6. They called it Old Christmas.

When I was growing up, we always went to my grandparents’ house for Christmas. There would be anywhere from twenty to thirty people crowded inside, with children packed in so tight it felt like the house could barely hold us all. The air buzzed with excitement as we waited for the moment when it would finally be time to open presents.

When Christmas Came in the Mailbox Long before Amazon trucks rumbled down our hollers, Christmas arrived in a much quieter way — tucked in the mailbox between the electric bill and the coal company coupon. It was the Sears Christmas Wish Book , better known across the mountains as the Wish Book . That catalog didn’t just show things. It showed possibility . Mama would set it on the kitchen table like it was made of glass, smoothing the cover with her apron. The kids circled l