ONE CHRISTMAS I WILL NEVER FORGET

I get very sentimental at this time of year because it was always an exciting and joyful time in the house in which I grew up. I don’t mean that every year was flawless in that sense. There were years when there were financial problems for my parents. One year, for instance, the company for which my dad worked went on strike, and at the same time, he was physically suffering from bursitis in his shoulder. I remember him pacing the floor in agony.

That year we were delayed in getting our usual Christmas tree. To add to that, there was a significant snowfall. It was a few days before Christmas and things were looking pretty bleak as far as holiday festivities. Suddenly my mom said to me, “Come on, Jack. Let’s go down the street to Harriets and get a tree.” My mother was a little woman whom you wouldn’t think could have conceived of going out on such a night. But she was determined we were going to have a tree.

Harriets was a gas station down the street from where we lived. It was actually a forerunner of that kind business in that it included a small store for such things as Wonder Bread, cigarettes, candy, a pinball machine, and most importantly, ice cream. And in that particular year, the manager, Lloyd Parks, was selling Christmas trees.

So my mother and I bundled up and headed down the hill on Main Street with the snow swirling around our heads. To add to the adventure, we took no money with us because my parents were fresh out of cash (no such things as credit or debit cards in those days). My mom asked Lloyd, who knew us very well, if we could get a tree and we would pay for it after Christmas when my dad’s strike was over. It was small town America and Lloyd wouldn’t hear of that—“Just take one! You don’t owe me anything!”

I remember trudging back up the hill in the blowing snow—both of us delighted that we had a tree. My dad felt terrible that we had to do that without his help, but we assured him that we were fine and happy that we had a tree to decorate. And we did!

I don’t remember that there were any gifts under the tree. There probably were because my parents loved that season so much, including  the gift-giving part of it, carefully wrapping presents and putting them under the tree for Christmas morning. And we always had a great Christmas dinner of either ham or turkey and all the extras that went along with it.

I’m sentimental about that because it was a time when my parents seemed to be at their happiest—though there were other happiness times too. But Christmas had a special warmth in our household. I am also sentimental about it because my mom and I were a great team the night we got the tree down at Harriets, and thanks to Lloyd Parks, the tree was also a gift under which other gifts went too.