In the 50's our whole family would gather at our house for Christmas dinner. It was our family tradition. One Christmas in the 1950's, my brother had a bad cold...just in time for Christmas. Mom always took a piece of flannel... hung it on the oven door and let it get warm. Camphorated oil would be heated in a small pan on the stove...then Mom would put the oil on his chest and pin the warmed flannel to his pajama top with big safety pins. Tuck him into bed with covers up to his nose and let him sleep. This and Vicks always seemed to help him breath, when he had colds. Well, it was Christmas morning and the ladies were busy in the kitchen. The men were in the living room reading the paper and visiting. The table was all set with our best dishes and silver. Someone went to get Grandma, and we were almost ready to eat. The last thing to be made was the gravy. Aunt Ruthie offered to make it while Mom carved the bird. My Aunt always made the best gravy. The huge roaster was on two burners. This was before we had a whisk, so she was stirring furiously so that the gravy would be lump free. She saw a tiny pan with yellowish liquid in it and mistaking it for melted butter...she added it to the gravy... to make it richer. A couple of tastes told her that something was wrong....something was very wrong. The gravy tasted like camphorated oil. She told Mom that she had used some of the melted butter in the gravy and Mom looked startled. After she told Aunt Ruthie what was in the pan....they broke into fits of laughter...bending over and grabbing their aprons to wipe their eyes. The rest of us in the kitchen were told what happened and we began to howl. Hearing this raucous sound coming from the kitchen...the men came to the door and looked in. They saw a sight that they had never seen before. All the women of the family were standing there with tears in their eyes not being able to speak. The tears were mostly from laughing, but some tears were from the camphorated oil that was perfuming the room. Needless to say...we didn't have gravy that year. It is a story that has gone down in our family history. After that, when Aunt Ruthie made the gravy...a big laugh came from the kitchen.