This is the article that was in the Portland Oregonian on Christmas Day, 2008: A booklet tells of an Oregon pioneer family's Christmas in a cabin Simplicity sets the festivities of 1853 far apart from today's holiday Thursday, December 25, 2008 NANCY HAUGHT The Oregonian Staff Christmas 1853 found Thomas and Nancy Kincaid settled in a one-room cabin near what is now Eugene. The couple and their five children had spent almost eight months on the Oregon Trail. They'd left the familiar comfort of their farm in Indiana for a place they prayed would be their Promised Land. The story of the Kincaids' first Christmas in Oregon Territory had long been a family favorite when Leonore Gale Barette wrote about her grandparents in 1950. Barette wanted to ensure that pioneer values -- courage, resourcefulness and sacrifice -- would not be forgotten by "almost every living person." Good gifts don't go out of style. Christmas 2008 comes with challenges that awaken the pioneer spirit in all people. Whatever the coming year holds, it will demand courage, resourcefulness and sacrifice. Revisiting the Kincaids' Christmas memories offers more than just a break in today's celebrations or a simple reminder of the spirit that forged Oregon. Reflecting on a pioneer Christmas may inspire hope in the face of an uncertain future. Barette's mother, Elizabeth Kincaid, was 10 in October 1853, when her father, Thomas, claimed a narrow strip of land on the edge of what would become Eugene. Thomas and his oldest son, Harrison, 17, worked dawn to dark, cutting and stripping logs, gathering stones for the fireplace and chimney and caring for the livestock that had survived the 2,500 miles from Indiana. So Barette sets the stage in her 15-page booklet, "Christmas in Oregon Territory in 1853." The Lane County Historical Society has reprinted the pamphlet, available at its bookstore for $3.50 (541-682-4242, www.lanecountyhistoricalsociety.org). Here are excerpts from Barette's book, used with permission from the Lane County Historical Society: "Early in the month of December, 1853, Grandfather and Harrison had finished a one-room log cabin with a fireplace for cooking. . . . Beds were made from trees . . . . The soft and fragrant tips of fir boughs were placed . . . to make a foundation for the wool mattresses and feather beds which Grandmother had brought across the plains . . . . The gay colored quilts . . . which had been used as wrapping for a few cherished dishes and other treasures, were unpacked. The plates and pieces of crockery were carefully placed on shelves built in the rough wall. . . . They were now at home. . . . "The days were nearing Christmas and Grandfather and Grandmother, remembering the joyous and merry times in the old home in Indiana with its full larder and storehouses to draw on, churches and stores within a day's driving distance, and their own friendly parents and relatives living nearby, felt they must try to make some small observance of the day. . . . "They were hard put to know what to do. They had nothing in the way of food with which to make a dinner festive, only flour, potatoes, a bit of dried fruit and a little brown sugar and some bacon. Their money was practically all spent in preparing for and making the long trip, in expenses incident to entering the homestead and in the purchase of a few essentials necessary to maintain life until spring. There was no church to attend in the little settlement of Eugene, even if the old oxen were again hitched to the creaking wagon. . . . There were no roads in 1853. Anyway, there was no place to go. . . . "A few rods from the cabin was a flowing spring which supplied the family with water, and on one side of this Harrison built a screen of fir boughs and small trees. It made a lovely little green wall. . . . At each end of the screen, he put in, carefully, stakes or long sticks which were full of pitch and which were wound about with string-like flexible pieces of pitchy wood. . . . "Shortly after dusk on Christmas eve the children heard loud clangs, big brother knocking on an iron from the old wagon. They all rushed out toward the spring. The pitchlights were burning gaily, sending up sparks and giving off the resinous, tangy odor which no one can ever forget. . . . "Harrison had made a little mask of fir twigs and attached it to a long beard of dry grasses, which he had collected around in the nearby brush and woods. He looked more like a wood elf than Santa Claus, but the children shouted with laughter when they saw him. . . . "The children finally went inside, where Grandmother had hurriedly set the crude homemade table, lighted with tallow candles. She used the few pretty dishes she had, and managed somehow an extra treat for the dinner. Supper they called it then. Grandfather had brought in a fat grouse and Grandmother had made, almost out of thin air, some little cakes. She had contrived a few little figures from potatoes with sticks for legs, and for their faces she scraped the skin from the tuber and had tiny buttons for eyes. They wore jaunty little hats made somehow from bits of paper and leaves. These centered the table, and the children admired them with 'Oh's' and 'Ah's' and wide eyes. . . . "After supper, Harrison put logs in the fireplace to build up a big crackling fire. Grandfather took down his worn Bible and read again the old old story of the Three Wise Men, The Shepherds Who Watched Their Flocks by Night, The Manger, The Birth of Christ. Never were the chapters more reverently read nor more intently absorbed than in that crude little log cabin. . . . "On that Christmas evening so long ago, the Kincaid family had been in Lane County, in the Territory of Oregon, for only seventy-five days, but they had a snug, warm little cabin, a beautiful hill claim with timber and clear sparkling water; they had some stock and planned to get more; they had a team of good horses, a friendly little dog; the children were in splendid health; a small school had just been started within walking distance over the hills. The road to the future looked promising and they all determined that if hard work and grit would lead to success, they would reach it." ----- Original Message ----- From: "Sue Liedtke" <seleaml@actionnet.net> To: <kincaid@rootsweb.com> Sent: Friday, December 26, 2008 7:43 PM Subject: Re: [KINCAID] Merry Christmas! >I just got back from a very scary Christmas Eve Day trip to Portland from > Newport, OR. The return trip to Newport was delayed by a day due to the > unprecidented amount of snow and ice on the roads. Thank heavens our nice > friendly rains are back. We seldom have snow stay around beyond a few days > (this bout lasted 10 days) so have little snow removal equipment. Nothing > gets plowed so 8-10 inch berms on the sides of the ruts along with > golfball > size ice rocks formed by chains make driving really treacherous. > > On Christmas Day the Portland Oregonian Newspaper had as the lead story in > the O section a description of a Pioneer Christmas. The text was from a > story written by a lady named Barbara in 1950. She was the daughter of > Thomas and Nancy Chadric Kincaid. Thomas is the grandson of Thomas/Hannah > Tincher Kincaid. The story of the Kincaid's first Christmas (1853) in > Oregon > was told to Barbara by her mother. The artical may still be available on > the > Oregonian's Web site. It is interesting reading. > > Sue Liedtke > > > ----- Original Message ----- > From: <GmLue@aol.com> > To: <kincaid@rootsweb.com> > Sent: Wednesday, December 24, 2008 1:05 PM > Subject: Re: [KINCAID] Merry Christmas! > > >> Merry Christmas from Oregon where we are having some devastating storms, >> but >> will pull out of it as usual. > > To see the Kincaid of all spellings DNA chart in Excel: > http://freepages.genealogy.rootsweb.com/~adgedge/Research/April%202004/Kincaid%20%20DNA.xls > > > ------------------------------- > To unsubscribe from the list, please send an email to > KINCAID-request@rootsweb.com with the word 'unsubscribe' without the > quotes in the subject and the body of the message