Turning Points
Life is a journey. It has a beginning and it has an end. All along its path are events, places
and people who are turning points. Here, I relate some of these turning points in my own
journey. Hopefully, the stories will illuminate and maybe entertain some of those who care
enough to read.
Life is a journey. It has a beginning and it has an end. All along its path are events, places
and people who are turning points. Here, I relate some of these turning points in my own
journey. Hopefully, the stories will illuminate and maybe entertain some of those who care
enough to read.
Cotton, my uncle Howard, drove the 25 miles from Lebanon to New
Haven one cold Christmas eve to appear outside our living room
window dressed as Santa Claus. With that excitement and the half
eaten slice of jam cake beside an empty milk glass on the kitchen
table Christmas morning, we had no trouble believing in Santa Claus.
The cedar tree had been cut at the end of a long trek up the railroad
tracks and was decorated with blue lights, tinfoil icicles and glass
bulbs. The anticipation was just intense Christmas morning as we
Haven one cold Christmas eve to appear outside our living room
window dressed as Santa Claus. With that excitement and the half
eaten slice of jam cake beside an empty milk glass on the kitchen
table Christmas morning, we had no trouble believing in Santa Claus.
The cedar tree had been cut at the end of a long trek up the railroad
tracks and was decorated with blue lights, tinfoil icicles and glass
bulbs. The anticipation was just intense Christmas morning as we
stood on the cold linoleum floor behind the closed door outside the living room. We were waiting
for Mama to open it and let us get to the Christmas presents. Mass had been gotten out of the way
by going to church at midnight Christmas eve. So there was nothing but that door and Daddy
finishing with the kitchen stove, a cigarette, or something, to keep us from attacking the hoard of
gifts under the tree.
Cap pistols, trains, games, B-B guns, stockings stuffed with candy, nuts and tangerines were
there. Hopefully, there wouldn't be too many clothes; we boys cared not a whit about such things.
And hanging on the mantle would always be one black sock stuffed with coal lumps, and kindling
for Daddy. That was Mama's joke but we thought Santa had Daddy figured out pretty well.
At least one boy would be mad because he didn’t get something he wanted. Santa had always left
at least one extra cap pistol for the one that got broken before sundown Christmas day. And extra
boxes of caps. I really don’t know how my parents could afford those presents. There was even a
bicycle, used of course, for me one year. Seems like there was an electric train under the tree
every Christmas.
Our presents weren't wrapped in those days so keeping eyes off could only be achieved by putting
the presents out under the tree after we had all gone to bed. Then one year when they thought I
surely had reached the age when I no longer believed, they told me that there was no Santa Claus
and allowed me to help set out the presents under the tree after the younger ones had gone to
bed.
But it was never the same after that. I think I could have been in college before I found out the truth
about Santa Claus.
for Mama to open it and let us get to the Christmas presents. Mass had been gotten out of the way
by going to church at midnight Christmas eve. So there was nothing but that door and Daddy
finishing with the kitchen stove, a cigarette, or something, to keep us from attacking the hoard of
gifts under the tree.
Cap pistols, trains, games, B-B guns, stockings stuffed with candy, nuts and tangerines were
there. Hopefully, there wouldn't be too many clothes; we boys cared not a whit about such things.
And hanging on the mantle would always be one black sock stuffed with coal lumps, and kindling
for Daddy. That was Mama's joke but we thought Santa had Daddy figured out pretty well.
At least one boy would be mad because he didn’t get something he wanted. Santa had always left
at least one extra cap pistol for the one that got broken before sundown Christmas day. And extra
boxes of caps. I really don’t know how my parents could afford those presents. There was even a
bicycle, used of course, for me one year. Seems like there was an electric train under the tree
every Christmas.
Our presents weren't wrapped in those days so keeping eyes off could only be achieved by putting
the presents out under the tree after we had all gone to bed. Then one year when they thought I
surely had reached the age when I no longer believed, they told me that there was no Santa Claus
and allowed me to help set out the presents under the tree after the younger ones had gone to
bed.
But it was never the same after that. I think I could have been in college before I found out the truth
about Santa Claus.
___________________________________________________
| And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose. (Romans 8:28 KJV) |
| Copyright © 2005 leoshoemaker.com |
| Santa December 15, 2006 |
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