Christmas Story #2

This old newspaper features a Christmas story that I wrote a number of years ago, that I was proud to have published in the Graphic. Jamie always was a great story teller, as his kids and grandkids will tell you, mostly for the laughs at bedtime. It's hard to pry stories of his childhood out of him, but when he finally released his grip on this one, I couldn't wait to weave it and put in fillers, and offer it for public consumption.

I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

A Bicycle for Jamie

Well, it’s hard to believe it, but it’s Christmas time again. As I busy myself tidying up the kitchen after supper, and my husband and I get ready to settle in and watch the news, I pause to admire my sparkling Christmas tree, and my precious growing Santa Claus collection, which is carefully arranged on top of the cupboards and shelves, and all around the room. You can see Santa wherever you rest your eye. I smile each time I look at one as each of them has its own story and brings me a different memory.

I grab a basket of towels to fold while I watch Compass and await Boomer’s report as the fat snowflakes fall, but somehow my attention keeps wandering. Our four children are all grown up, and as everyone knows, when the kids are over a certain age, most of the fun goes out of Christmas. However, we are blessed with four grandchildren, and realize that Christmas really is for kids. How lucky we are to see the magic of it all again through a little one's eyes!

Next to the chair where I fold my laundry is an old world Santa, on his stool, studying his map. My mind goes back years ago to the day it was given to me, and I remember a story I overheard that night. It made me count my blessings, and I never forgot it......

The big day was just around the corner, and four excited little ones kept themselves busy teasing each other about what Santa “was” or “wasn’t” bringing them and the pages of the big Sears Wish Book were pretty well worn right out. (Am I the only mother who picked up a separate copy knowing the first would be literally loved to death?)

The stern tone in their father’s voice startled them when he said “You kids come here.” He was a quiet man who rarely raised his voice, so they scurried into the living room and curled up on the couch to wait for him.

Smiles warmed their faces when he said, “I want to tell you a story.” He threw a piece of wood into the stove, then joined his family in the living room, sat down in his favorite chair, and began recounting the following tale to a very captive audience.

“Now, I know you’re all good kids, and I know Santa will bring something nice for each of you on Christmas, but you know, some families have a pretty rough time at Christmas, and I want you to think about that. I’m going to tell you a story from when I was a kid.”

The children all huddled together, super excited, because their Dad was such a great story teller. When it was bedtime, and Dad wasn’t home, Mom was a great story-book reader, but they loved when Dad got started on one of his stories! You never knew where it would go. And as I look back now, why didn't I write them down?

He looked down at his hands, as he went on…

“You all know I grew up in a really big family. I was the third oldest, and there were eight more after me. Before the last couple of kids came along, oh, maybe when I was 10 years old or so, there were probably about eight or nine of us then, still an awful big bunch of kids to feed and clothe. There wasn’t much work for Dad, and he and Mom did all they could to find enough wood to burn to keep us warm, and flour to make enough biscuits to keep us going. Winter was pretty harsh, and they did the best they could, but they dreaded Christmas coming.”

The young father looked up at the kids and said, “You know how much your Mom likes baking all our favorite treats; meat pies, gumdrop cake, and cookies, and how we like to shop for nice Christmas gifts for all the important people in our lives like the paper man or your teachers, well, there was none of that when I was your age. There just wasn’t enough money. And I was pretty sad the day my Mom and Dad asked me if there was anything I wanted for Christmas. All summer and fall, there was one thing I had dreamed about and wished for, but I was pretty darn sure there was no way I’d ever have one. I didn’t think Santa brought such things to kids like me, and I knew for sure my parents could never buy such an expensive present, not with so many other kids in the family, most younger than me. So, I wasn’t surprised at their reaction when I answered them, telling them, ‘I sure wish I had a bike.’

I stared at my feet when I told them, because I guess I already knew their answer. They didn’t say anything, but Dad looked at Mom, and then they both just looked away. I got the reaction I thought I would, and then I wished I had never said anything."

"Soon it was Christmas Eve, and we were all so excited we were shaking! Santa was coming tonight. My grandparents had stopped by for their usual visit, but this time left a big box with Mom, with lots of whispering going on in the porch. We all knew for sure there was something great in that box, but we had to wait until the morning. We didn’t know how we’d ever sleep. Remember, big boxes weren’t common in our house, we never had very much."

"At some point, I guess we fell asleep, because the next thing I heard was Dad building up the fire in the wood stove, and someone yelling, ‘Santa came! Santa came!’

"Talk about excited! There was a little tree in the corner that I suppose Dad dragged home, with a few little tin ornaments on it, but to me, it was the most beautiful tree I ever saw. The box that my grandmother left was full of some of her sugar cookies and candy for us, and a pair of her hand made mitts for everyone in the family. They were all arranged around the tree. We loved her so much, and we were so happy for her gifts. But all of a sudden, the world seemed to stop, and I couldn’t breathe, because parked behind the tree was something I never thought I’d see. I couldn’t believe it, and I didn’t want to say anything, because with that many kids, I didn’t know if it was for me. But the room got quiet, and Mom said, ‘The bike’s for you, Jamie.’ I was sure I hadn’t heard right. I’m sure all my brothers and sisters had gotten something from Santa, but I was too busy staring at the bike. I looked up at my mother and father, and they laughed and said, ‘With all that snow out there, we don’t know how you’re going to ride it, but Santa must have thought it was a good idea!’

Well, nothing doing, my heart was bursting, I had to take her out for a spin! You can only imagine what that must have looked like that Christmas morning. This little boy hardly even dressed yet, trying to drive a bike through the snow. But do you know what? I loved that bike. I drove it through the snow all winter, and when spring came, I drove it through the mud. I couldn’t wait for summer. My friends all had bikes, and now I could keep up with them when they wanted to go down to the harbor. I had so much fun on that thing. And you know, I never really noticed that the paint was all worn off, and the chain fell off a lot, and the seat was a little crooked. When you’re nine or 10 years old, I guess that stuff isn’t important, at least it wasn’t those days."

"But what was important is this: my parents had almost nothing, just a house full of kids, and yet somehow they managed to find a secondhand bike to make my Christmas dream come true. I never forgot it, and all the brand new bikes in the world would never have meant as much.

So you see, kids, Santa always tries to make each and every child happy on Christmas. He knows best. So put that Sears catalogue away now, and remember that one or two special things are all you need. Christmas is getting very close, and Santa has a way of knowing how to make good memories. So, up to bed now, and I’ll see you in the morning.”

Suddenly, the familiar sound of Compass ending and the next program starting brings me back. My basket of laundry is folded but I don’t remember doing it. I guess I was just lost in thought, and enjoying an old story. I look over at my husband, who by now is settling in for a well-deserved snooze and smile.

On my way to the kitchen to make a pot of tea I can’t help but think. This generation’s children have a Christmas wish list that includes things like the newest action figures, computers and play stations and the latest in technology, stuff unheard of when I was a kid. And some don't have a wish list at all, they already have everything. I wonder at how the true meaning of Christmas may have been lost on so many people.

What I do know is that the love of family is the most important thing, and so are the memories of a long-ago Christmas morning when a very poor family made their little boy’s Christmas wish came true.