Christmas story based on a true family event about real people

Real Santa, A Wonderful Sister and A Good Hearted Man
Our family had moved from town where my father had a steady job in 1941 to the farm where he and his four sons worked hard from sunup to sundown with little or no income until harvest in the fall. That was often meager and had to last until harvest the following year. There was little or no money left after buying necessities for the family, food staples, clothes for the kids, medicines and supplies for the farm.
Gay and I were still very young the Christmas Santa Claus almost missed our house. My brothers were too old for Santa Claus and our sister, June was a grown up young woman with a car and a job in town at the bus station. She usually arrived home before six o’clock in the afternoon. That day she was late. No telephone lines had been run out our way at that time, so June couldn’t call home.

Mother cooked supper as she always did but she told Daddy she was worried about June. “She is never this late coming home. I hope nothing happened to that old car. She could be stranded out on the road somewhere.”

We lived ten long miles from town with hardly a house to be seen on the road for the last six of them. The night was cold and dark. Few people would be on the road in automobiles. After all, it was Christmas Eve and most farm families would go to bed early.

The boys finished their evening meal and Mother washed dishes after she had carefully filled a plate and put it in the oven for June. Daddy settled down with his Albany Herald newspaper. No one knew that Mother had two reasons to be worried about June’s late homecoming. She didn’t fear so much that June had become a victim of a crime or that some evil had befallen her. Life was far safer in those days. If the car had broken down, as it had done before, June could stay in town with a friend. But this night, Christmas Eve, June was bringing precious cargo. Unless she made it home Mother knew there would be two very disappointed little girls when they looked under the Christmas Tree the next morning.

It grew late, nine, ten o’clock and everyone had gone to bed except Mother.She sat by the lamp trying to read and not worry. She had made chocolate fudge for Christmas day. She had a big meal planned for the family, but Santa Claus was supposed to bring two pretty baby dolls with eyes that opened and closed. She knew Gay and I had been dreaming of those dolls for weeks.
We never had toys from a store except at Christmas when Santa brought them. Mother was afraid that this year she was going to have to divulge the secret of Santa and admit the reason there were no baby dolls.
She read until her eyes would not stay open. She dozed off, her head resting against the back of her chair.

Money was scarce that year as it had been since the family moved to the farm. Mother had put the dolls on lay-a-way at Grant’s. June promised that she would pick up the toys when she got her paycheck on Christmas Eve.

With the toys in her car, she truly felt like Santa as she started for home. Before she made it out of town, however, the car began to stall at every stoplight. June turned around. She didn’t want to take a chance. She headed for Frank’s Garage where she found the mechanic still there. He listened to her story and though he was about to close up, he took pity on the pretty girl. While she sat for hours in his drafty little office he managed to fix up the old car. “I think you will get home okay now,” he told her. June had climbed in and headed out, thankful she could be there before morning.
“Mother, what are you doing up?” June stage- whispered as she tiptoed in with two big packages in her arms.

Mother jerked awake and jumped up to meet her daughter. “What on earth happened, Honey? I was worried to death.”

“That darn car. I’d still be in town if I hadn’t found a good-hearted mechanic. He hated to see me stranded and unable to bring home gifts for my little sisters.”

Mother took the packages from June’s hands and said, “ Come in here and eat your supper. You must be starving.”

After June ate her leftovers, mother and daughter took the dolls, one dressed in pink and one in baby blue, from the boxes and set them up under the tree. They placed a tiny tea set between them. Both smiled as they imagined the looks on the children’s faces.
Thanks to a kind mechanic who worked on the night before Christmas, and a loving big sister, Gay and I awoke to find we had not been forgotten and Santa had brought us the special presents we wanted.

CHRISTMAS EVE,2010

As I sit with a cup of eggnog, Rocky in his bed and Smokie’s little face buried in her paws, sleeping, it seems that Christmas is over. We celebrated with a traditional turkey dinner today. Bing Crosby, Johnny Mathis and Andy Williams filled the house with Christmas music. Nothing can replace those voices and their songs of Christmas for me. Thank you, Public TV, for bringing back the Andy Williams Christmas shows.

Memories flood my mind at this time of year. My parents invited relatives to come to our house on Christmas Eve. Mother’s birthday was December 23. That was also the birthday of her sister Mildred. The party was a celebration of these two lovely women and also a Christmas celebration.

Some of my uncles and aunts were young enough to enjoy a square dance in the dining room, where the table had been moved out and the chandelier hung a little higher so the tall men wouldn’t hit their heads. I still see their faces, smiling and happy as they followed the calls. My siblings and my cousins would swing their partners and do-se-do around the room. My father, who was not a dancer, sat in the family room with Uncle Jimmy and others who liked to hear tales of long ago. Warm memories of dear loved ones who are no longer with us glow in my heart on Christmas Eve.

Today we made new memories as we enjoyed our time together. What could be better than visiting with friends I’ve known for thirty years or more? They brought a pretty little dog they rescued a couple of years ago. Her name is Holly. She is blind in one eye. Holly was not very receptive to Smokie and Rocky. She felt most comfortable in her crate. Smokie was determined Holly was going to play with her, but Rocky got the message quickly and left her alone. With cameras within reach, we made photos of the dogs and of each other.

We played Catch-Phrase. If you haven’t played this word game, next time you have a group together try it.I haven’t laughed so much in a long, long time. I am a pretty good player, but I couldn’t help but think about Barry who was not a word person. I’m sure he would have taken a nap or gone out to smoke his pipe while we played, if he had been here today.

Our woods will be beautiful with snow tomorrow. A white Christmas.

Tiger, the cat, will curl up in her new bed and sleep the day away. She isn’t a cold weather cat and Rocky is not fond of it either. We enjoy watching it fall and mound on our deck, but isn’t it wonderful to have a warm home when the cold wind howls outside? Just one of the things I’m so grateful for this Christmas.

Christmas Time With Loved Ones

The above photo was taken with Barry's family in 2006. We got together for Christmas at Norman's Landing in Cumming, GA. We missed that family party this year. Barry was ill and we could only stop for a few minutes to say hello as we drove on back to the mountains. We both missed this annual Christmas gathering.

My brother-in-law is a delightful Santa Claus who systematically gives out presents one at the time and we linger over gift openings, taking photos and enjoying each gift opened by either of the four of us. Neither couple has children, so the four of us, Gay, Stu, Barry and I, always spend Chistmas together. What a beautiful time we share with lots of love..

On Christmas Eve we attended their church where they sing in a large and excellent choir. This year seemed to be the most beautiful candle light service of all those we've been to at this church.

With the help of nieces and spouses we served a wonderful repast on Christmas night and enjoyed giving our gifts to "my favorite baseball player" who is eleven now. And he taught me how to play tennis on his Wii, which I had never seen before. Now I want my own Wii. They aren't just for kids. I was amazed when my tennis skills came back to me after all these many years. It was thrilling to play a sport I once enjoyed when I was young. But on the Wii, my quickness on my feet was not important. My eye hand coordination was sharper than I would have expected. It was lots of fun.

Mother's Birthday, December 23

December 23 is my Mother's birthday. She and Aunt Mildred, her younger sister were both born on 12/23 but two years apart. I don't know when it became a tradition but Aunt Mildred and Uncle Lawson came out to our house on Christmas Eve and birthday presents were exchanged. For as long as I can remember, Mother's relatives who lived near came to our house on Christmas Eve and it became an impromptu party with home made eggnog. That was the only time liquor was allowed in our house when we were kids, except for the fruitcakes Mother made each Thanksgiving. And it was the only time my parents indulged in alcohol.
I was about 13 years old that Christmas Eve that Uncle Jimmy, Daddy's brother in law said, "Coy, I can drink you under the table." Everyone laughed and I paid little attention to what they were doing until Aunt Judy and Uncle Jim got up to leave. My father tried to stand up but fell back in his chair. Everyone laughed, but I was mortified. My father, the strict disciplinarian, the authority in my life who always taught us to do the right thing, was a pathetic, almost helpless man who had to be supported as he made his way to bed.
I ran into the kitchen and cried. Disappointed was a mild term for what I felt about my manly father. Mother explained that he was fine and there was nothing for me to be upset about, but she had no way of knowing that a 13 year old, seeing her father out of control for the first time ever, was frightened. Perhaps because I had heard him and Mother talk about our next door neighbor who drank up all his money and abused his wife, I assumed that any man who drank alcohol at any time or became inebriated, even if was due to a joke between friends, was a terrible person.

We had those parties for many, many years, but never again did my father have more than a couple of cups of eggnog. Over the years Uncle Rudolph and Aunt Red came out to the Christmas Eve gatherings. He was the uncle who was frugal and good as gold to his wife who suffered from a bad back. She said she had to wear a "corset" and had to sit in a straight backed chair, wear sensible shoes, and her husband waited on her and did almost all the house cleaning. My mother and father said he was one of the best men they ever knew. He called Gay and me P-jinks. He often slipped us a nickel as he teased us. He made two little shy girls feel special. Isn't it funny how little gestures from a grownup can change the way a child feels?

Today would have been Mother's 102nd birthday. I hope she and aunt Mildred, Uncle Rudy, and their spouses are all having a cup of eggnog laced with a little whiskey and I hope Daddy feels free to have more than two since I'm not up there watching and judging him. I raised my own cup with a little brandy just before bed tonight. Here's to you, my parents, and thanks for all you did, the sacrifices you made so that I'd have a good life.