Christmas Through a Child's Eyes (2 page)

BY CONNIE STURM CAMERON

A
s I trudged through the softly falling snow, Christmas lights gradually illuminated the homes in my neighborhood. It was Christmas Eve, 1967, and I was almost done with my paper route. The hushed beauty of the winter dusk scene invited me to slow my anxious steps. My ten-year-old mind, awed by the beauty of nature, wondered why the world seemed so quiet when it snowed. Even the sound of my own breath seemed to reverberate in my ears.

Normally, I kept my newspapers in the basket on my bike and rode up and down the driveways in my neighborhood to deliver them, but when it snowed, it seemed easier to don my rubber boots and walk to each front porch. My favorite house on Connway Drive was where my best friend, Cindy, lived. We had promised to call each other as soon as we finished opening our gifts the next day — as long as the party line wasn't in use.

Lights were being turned on in houses up and down the street and when I walked to their front doors to drop the newspaper, I heard more and more laughter and excitement: Families were gathering in anticipation of Christmas festivities.

After tossing my final newspaper, I began my trek home. It was time for dinner, and as usual, I was starving. But it was hard to hurry. There is something magical about Christmas Eve, and that night I felt it in the air. It was as if every child in the whole world was holding their breath, wondering if their long-awaited GI Joe or Thumbelina doll would be under the tree when they awoke the next morning.

When I finally arrived home, I stopped in front of our house and stared — it was so beautiful. The colored lights lit up the night sky and the snow surrounding the lights seemed to absorb the color of each bulb. My father and older brother, Tim, had strung large, red Christmas bulbs all along the roof of our ranch home, and had trimmed the two blue spruce trees flanking our driveway with hundreds of vibrant blue lights. At that moment, as my eyes darted back and forth between the two decorations, I couldn't decide if red or blue was my favorite. Dad had even decorated the bushes bordering the front of our house with multicolored lights, and Mom had hung red flickering Christmas bells in our bedroom windows.

My heart sang with the beauty of it all.

Oh blessed Christmas! One more day to go! What would the next twenty-four hours hold for me? I tried hard to remember all the things I had wanted for gifts. My sister was too old for her Barbie dolls, so I had a lot of her hand-me-downs; however, it would be nice to get the new Skipper doll. My real love, though, was playing schoolteacher. I even had a makeshift school set up in our basement. My younger brothers, Danny and Gary, were my students, along with Cindy. I had saved my paper-route money and bought a chalkboard, chalk, and other small school supplies. My “students” used an old lawn chair and overturned buckets for seats, and a well-worn card table as their desk.

I spent hours planning lessons and giving tests. But if it weren't for the treats my mother graciously allowed us to have each day, I'm certain my students would not have participated. The promise of homemade potato candy with peanut butter swirled inside or no-bake oatmeal cookies kept everyone pretending to be interested for hours!

I hoped to have a real classroom one day, and secretly prayed God would work it out.

“Are you sure all you want for Christmas is a Skipper doll?”my mother had asked just the other day.

“Yeah. Well, maybe some more school supplies … like scissors and colored pencils,” I added.

Before going to bed that night, my sister and I grabbed one flashlight and my three brothers grabbed the other. That way, if we woke up in the middle of the night, we could sneak into the living room to see how many presents Santa and our parents had left for us. Because our father was a pressman for the local newspaper and brought home the butt-ends from the huge rolls of newsprint paper that was used on the printing presses, presents for all seven in our family would be wrapped alike. Our living room would be a sea of off-white boxes in every size and shape.

Finally, Christmas morning arrived. I was certain our squeals of laughter and cries of joy could be heard throughout our neighborhood with each gift that was opened, especially when Gary got his new bicycle! My older siblings and I were all jealous because we had to share the same beat-up bike. Our tradition, though, was that each year one of us kids would get something big. This year it was Gary's turn.

And yes, a Skipper doll was under the tree for me, along with a new Trouble game and some more supplies for my makeshift school. I jumped for joy at the new supplies. Word had gotten out about the fun — snacks — we were having, and more neighbor kids expressed an interest in coming over during the Christmas break.

As the last gift was unwrapped and each of us gathered our treasured piles to take to our rooms, Mom said, “Lets all head downstairs. Santa has left one last gift there.”

We dashed down the steps two at a time. There was a sheet covering something large in the middle of the basement floor … in the middle of my schoolroom.

“Connie,” Dad said. “You get to take the sheet off.”Me? Really?

I had no idea what could be so big — bigger than a bike!

“Hurry up!” my siblings squealed, thrilled there was one last large gift and hoping I'd share whatever it was. As I ripped the sheet off, it uncovered not one, not two, but three old-fashioned school desks! They each had a seat attached on the front. They were perfect!

“They're not perfect; they're old and kind of beat-up,” Mom said, the corners of her mouth lifting into a knowing smile, “but we thought you could get some use out of them.”

Finally, I could have a real school! I couldn't wait to call Cindy and tell her the good news!

That was forty years ago, and I still have one of those desks. My mother and sister opted to keep the other two. The date “1913” is branded into one of the wrought-iron legs, and the hand-carved initials of childhood loves are still embedded in the wood. Recently, my husband suggested we sand the desktop down and stain it to make it look as good as new, but I declined the offer. God — who alone shared my dream — knows my desk will always look perfect to me.

BY MEGAN (MOLLY) D. WILLOME

A
s a child, I loved candy, but the only time I got any was on a holiday. And at my house, the only candy we ever had was homemade fudge. My family wasn't poor, but my mother didn't believe in wasting money. While her motto was “Why buy it if you can make it,” I secretly longed for store-bought, prepackaged treats.

As the Christmas holiday drew near, my first grade teacher, Mrs. Cunningham, made an announcement: it was time to start thinking about the annual Christmas party. She concluded by saying that each child was to bring a small gift to exchange. My eyes widened. The Christmas party would be another chance to get genuine, grade-A candy! When Mom picked me up that day, I told her about the party. “Mrs. Cunningham said to bring something that doesn't cost too much,” I added.

Mom smiled at me in the rearview mirror. “I have the perfect craft! We can make light switch covers. It's inexpensive, and will be a gift that no one else has.”

My heart fell. “Can't we just buy something?” I asked.

“Of course not,” Mom answered. “This will be more fun!”

That afternoon, Mom made a sample light switch cover using red felt for a frame, green felt for a tree, and sequins for ornaments. I tried to follow her example, but the finished product looked like a preschooler had made it.

On the day of the party, I watched each child place their gift on Mrs. Cunningham's desk. I held tightly to my homemade gift, hoping none of my friends would end up with it. As I watched, one boy slapped his present onto the teacher's desk and my heart leapt with joy — it was a LifeSavers Sweet Storybook! It was only decorated with a big bow, but that was the gift I wanted! It held eight rolls of LifeSavers, two each of Butter Rum, Pep O Mint, Crysto Mint, and Wild Cherry. My mouth watered as I joined the other children sitting in a circle on the reading rug.

“Don't open these yet,” said Mrs. Cunningham as she passed one gift to each student. Every child in the room stared at a girl named Dana when Mrs. Cunningham passed the Life Savers Sweet Storybook to her.

Once the gifts were distributed, Mrs. Cunningham explained that as she read The Night Before Christmas, each time she turned a page, we were to pass the gift we held in our lap to the next person. Whichever gift was in your hand when she ended the book became yours.

I watched the candy move around the room, anxious for it to be in my lap. When I finally held it, I waited my turn to pass it on. But just then, Mrs. Cunningham read the final line in the book.

“And to all a good night,” she said with a flourish and closed the book. I stared at the candy in my lap. I could hardly believe my luck!

Fully aware that some children had received candy and others had received homemade gifts, our teacher instructed us to leave our gifts in the classroom before going outside for a long recess.

I placed the candy on my desk and ran out the door. On the swings, I pumped my legs until I was going as high as I could. As I sailed back and forth, I thought about the LifeSavers Sweet Storybook. Which flavor should I try first? Should I eat them all at once or should I eat one a day and make them last?

After a few minutes, Mrs. Cunningham opened the classroom door and motioned to me. “Molly, would you mind coming in? I'd like to talk to you.”

The teacher had never summoned me before, and my initial thought was tragic: Is she going to take away my candy?

Instead, Mrs. Cunningham smiled and patted me on the head. “You made a beautiful gift, Molly. Do you know who received it?”

“No,” I answered as politely as I could.

“Dana did,” said Mrs. Cunningham. She bent down so we were eye level. “Are you two friends?”

I looked at the candy on my desk and shook my head. “She sits on the other side of the room.”

Mrs. Cunningham smiled. “She thinks your gift is very pretty. But, you see, Dana's home has no light switches.” I turned to the teacher and scrunched up my face, trying to understand what that meant. Mrs. Cunningham smiled. “Dana's house is so old that it isn't wired for electricity, and electricity is expensive. Dana offered your gift to me. Would you like to have it back?”

“You can keep it,” I whispered.

Mrs. Cunningham smiled. “Thank you. I'll find something else in my desk for Dana. I usually have a few little things hidden away.” Mrs. Cunningham turned to her desk and began to search.

I glanced out the window and spotted Dana playing by herself in one corner of the playground. How could a house not have electricity? How did the family turn on the lights? Then I had an awful thought. I glanced at the candy on my desk again. If they didn't have electricity, could they afford to have candy in their stockings?

Without a second thought, I turned to Mrs. Cunningham.

“Dana can have my gift,” I said quickly.

My teacher looked up in surprise. “Are you sure?”I nodded.

“Thank you,” she said, a smile lighting up her face. “You don't know how much this will mean to her.”

When Mom arrived that afternoon to pick me up from school, Mrs. Cunningham took her aside. I watched nervously as they talked. After a few minutes, Mrs. Cunningham summoned me to join them. I walked slowly to the teacher's desk for the second time that day. When I got to the front of the classroom, Mrs. Cunningham opened the big drawer in her desk and handed me a Christmas tree ornament.

I stared at it in wonder.

“I'm sorry it isn't wrapped,” she said as I continued to stare.

In my whole life, I had never received a store-bought ornament. Mom and I made all the Christmas decorations for our tree from scratch. Finally, with eyes glistening, I opened the box and pulled out a wooden girl on a swing.

I felt Mom's arm slide around my shoulders. “She looks just like you!” she said. I nodded, hugging my mother's legs happily.

The next morning, when I reached out to turn on the light in my bedroom, my fingers found the sample light switch cover Mom had made. I ran my fingers over the sequins. They were the same shape as LifeSavers. For a moment, I could almost taste the flavors: Butter Rum, Pep O Mint, Crysto Mint, and Wild Cherry. Then I thought of Dana tasting each flavor, perhaps for the first time, and I smiled.

I could wait until Christmas for candy — even if it was homemade!