When I was a kid, my grandparents lived in the San Joaquin Valley in California. Our family of 6 lived in lots of different places while I was growing up. We moved north from the Bay Area to as far as Portland and then west to Nebraska. But we would come to the San Joaquin Valley to visit my grandparents once a year. We’d visit during the summer one year, and the next year spend Christmas with them. My grandparents have been gone for decades, but I still remember those trips down to the Valley to visit them.
Beyond all the wonderful family times shared, three things in the Valley inspire strong memories of those trips to this day, and they’re all tied to US Route 99. This road sliced right through the middle of the Valley going north-south when I was little. It still does. But it has been nudged aside in places and replaced in others by a freeway, SR 99. SR 99 eventually merges with Interstate 5 south of Bakersfield, but I-5 parallels 99 through most of the Valley.
Are we there yet? (Has to be read in a whiney voice)
Most of our trip south was on the “old 99” as it is fondly known. Its proper name, according to the signage, is the Golden State Highway, but it has been described perfectly as “The Main Street of California.” Many of the towns and cities in the Valley, including Fresno, were just off this well-traveled route. Between communities there were dairies and lots of agriculture including cotton, raisin grapes, and orange groves. When we got to the orange groves, I knew we were almost to my grandparents’ place!
The orange groves were prolific, with their contrasting vivid green leaves and bright orange…well, oranges! The smell was so enticing! In fact, the scent of orange blossoms in the Valley is so fragrant and so ubiquitous that the “Soaring over California” ride at Disney California Adventures included it in their sensory experience.
I love seeing and smelling orange groves. There is nothing quite like a fresh-picked navel orange. One of my daughter’s friends from the South once came to visit and had never eaten an orange that didn’t come from the store. The taste is even better than the luscious aroma, as she soon discovered. She was bowled over by the intense sweet flavor of our delectable local oranges!
Christmas traditions
I couldn’t wait to get to my grandparents’ house and eat some of the oranges off the tree in their yard. It always amazed me to be able to pick ripe oranges at Christmastime, but it worked well for Santa Claus. In our family we almost always found an orange in our Christmas stockings!
The explanation for this (as well as for the new dime in the toe) was that when money was tight during the depression, the orange helped fill the stocking and provided a special treat. It was hard to get oranges in some places, especially in the North, so it was a much-anticipated Christmas luxury during those years.
My parents lived through the depression, so it made perfect sense. We carry on a lot of their values, as well as their traditions.
Jolly Old St. Nick
It turns out that there are a few different stories, though, of how the orange-in-the-stocking tradition came to be. I’m partial to the one about Saint Nicholas, a wealthy Christian bishop who lived in the 800s in what is now Turkey. He devoted his life to helping others, which included sharing the wealth he had inherited—anonymously if possible.
The legend is that he learned of a poor widower who had three daughters. Father was unable to find husbands for his girls because they didn’t have enough money for dowries (so glad that is one tradition that has expired, at least here!).
Wanting to help the family surreptitiously, St. Nick threw three sacks of gold (or three gold coins, depending on who’s telling the story) for the dowries through a window (or maybe down the chimney. He might have even slid down that chimney, depending on which version you’re going with).
Golden oranges
According to the story, the gold landed in the girls’ stockings, which had been washed and were hung by the fire to dry. The oranges we now find in our stockings are said to symbolize the gold coins from the original Santa Claus. In fact, the tradition of hanging stockings by the chimney can also be traced back to this story, though the stockings themselves have morphed quite a bit in many cases. I can only hope the dowries helped those poor girls find three wise men to marry! 😄
Some people believe that an orange is the symbol of the spirit of giving during the holiday and that is why they include one in their Christmas stockings. The segments are easily shared, representing giving to others. That’s also a lovely idea!
Whatever the origin, our family continues the tradition to this day. However, Santa has been known to sub out a clementine or a tangerine for the orange occasionally, so more goodies can fit in the stocking. We don’t generally (or ever) find gold coins in the toe, but we do find shiny new dimes!
This Mammoth Orange has seen better days!
Juice! Juice! My kingdom for some juice!
On our summer trips there was another common sight on Route 99: the Big Orange, also called the Giant Orange or Mammoth Orange. These roadside stands included a walk-up sphere painted like—you guessed it—a BIG ORANGE! They started off in 1926 as a chain built by Frank E. Pohl and could still be found dotted up and down Highway 99 during my childhood.
We didn’t wonder or care where they came from. We just knew we were sweltering as we drove through the San Joaquin Valley in those days before air-conditioned cars. Those glorious big bright oranges on the side of the road were a most welcome sight! I think I remember hot dogs and a limited food menu, but we came for the fresh-squeezed, chilled orange juice! There was nothing quite like it to quench your thirst on one of those “lazy, crazy, hazy days of summer.” It was ambrosia.
Big Oranges in 2021
Some of those giant oranges that could be found throughout the Valley have gone on to that great orange grove in the sky. But others have been restored and used for various purposes, or put on display. We have a portable “Big Orange” in our town, and it doesn’t serve orange juice. But that’s okay, because it has the best shaved ice in the world, in my completely unbiased and fully informed opinion. 😉
It’s a nostalgic nod to the originals, and I eagerly await its appearance every summer. It moves around town to serve many areas, and can be found at our weekly Farmer’s Market where the lines are always long!
Our Big Orange travels on a trailer. I’ve followed it through town a couple of times hoping it would land and I could have some “tigers’ blood” or “snow cream” shaved ice. If you’re unfamiliar with this delicacy, sometimes called Hawaiian shaved ice, I see it as a cross between a snowcone and a slushee that tastes better than both!
I see a long lifeline
In my trip down memory lane, a.k.a. US 99, I can’t ignore psychic Madam Sophia’s ginormous billboard sporting a brightly blazing neon hand. It was not meant to be ignored. It advertised her palm reading business, just off the side of the road not far from Fresno, in glowing audacity. I’d never seen anything like it, and it made quite an impression on me as a kid! I’ve never had my palm “read,” but if I ever did, I think I’d want “Madam Sophia” to do it just for the nostalgia factor.
Believe it or not, her palmistry establishment is still going strong more than 50 years and 3 generations later. And the sign is still dazzling the night. It brings back memories of those carefree childhood days of visiting my grandparents in the Valley that is now my home. Warm fuzzies from a neon palmistry sign—go figure!
Do you remember the Big Orange phenomenon? Do you squeeze your own orange juice? Do you usually find an orange in your Christmas stockings? Have you ever had your palm read? Drop your answers in the comments below. Inquiring minds want to know! And don’t forget to sign up for my emails!
Orange groves still abound in the rural areas of the Valley. We even have a city named Orange Grove not far away. So if they ever do go away (like so many have in Southern California), we’ll still have one Orange Grove!
Moving on…
With most of the Giant Oranges along 99 gone forever, you’ll just have to squeeze your own orange juice in your very own kitchen. Or you can go to Big Bear Diner and buy fresh-squeezed orange juice. But it will never taste quite as magical as the liquid gold that coursed down our parched throats on hot summer trips down Highway 99 back in the day. Excuse me, I think I’ll go squeeze me some orange juice!
More Christmas at Joy through Inspiration
Oh yes, I remember all of the above….oranges in the Christmas stockings, driving through the orange groves, drinking orange juice, getting our palms read, and drinking Orange Julius’ which were esp popular in our area!
Oh I love Orange Julius! But I think I love our Big Orange’s shaved ice even more!😋 Thanks for sharing memories! 🤗 (What did you find out from your palm reading?) 🤟🏻