A VERY SPECIAL CHRISTMAS

My mother would tell us about Christmases of her youth when the relatives gathered at the farm home of Thomas Hem Esq., uncle Tommy as he was known to the family. A family gathering in the late 1800's consisted of the children, grandchildren, and nieces and nephews, sometimes as many as fifty , all part of the Hern dynasty. I have always been enamored by stories of large family gatherings at Christmas. One of Dicken's great stories is about the characters he wrote about in Pickwick Papers celebrating this occasion. Christmas gatherings in the 19th century and early 2Oth century always seemed like a merry time for all. The once a year festive and merry time was a collossal event. Our family gathering of five or seven people, depending if grandfather and grandmother spent the holidays with the family, seemed small compared to the stories of family Christmases in books.

Memorable Christmases are etched in everyone's mind; the year you received a special gift, a grandchild's first Christmas, a year when you were far from home and celebrated the festivities in an army camp, the first Christmas after the loss of a family member or possibly a quiet occasion with few members of the family at home. I recall one Christmas that took place under very different circumstances and brought home the real meaning of Santa Claus.

The events of this story took place in a small rural village during the last year of the depression. The community had its old families, those with considerable means, some who got by on just enough and then there was a family or two that survived under very meagre circumstances. Donald and his father belonged to the segment of society termed poor. A motherless home, basic government veterans' pension, the father was a gas victim of the First World War; Donald had never known much of a family life.

Donald and his father lived in a two room flat with the door that opened onto the main street sidewalk. Donald's father was unable to work and sometimes he would be incapacitated to a degree that Donald would be called upon to be the caregiver for the two of them. Donald discovered my office when he was about eight or nine and would arrive most afternoons on his way home from school to see if he could sweep the floor, clean the front window or do some other errand for me. A nickel or the occasional quarter, for some exceptional chore, was a fortune to this child that society had overlooked.

Donald was not a lad to be easily excited. Most of his life he had been forced to exist on handouts, a few discards from other families and never anything he could anticipate. Christmas for Donald and his father would be just another day; possibly the grocery store would send over a Christmas box with a few oranges, a can of ham and some candies. During the depression years most families had a problem providing for themselves without giving too much concern for such things as Christmas for a small boy and his disabled father. Donald listened to other children at school talk about Christmas, Santa Claus and turkey but to him these holiday frivolities belonged to other families and never in his wildest imagination, would the jolly old fellow with his sleigh and reindeer ever find his humble dwelling.

As Christmas approached, I listened on several occasions to Donald's disbelief in the institution of Christmas. This kid had every reason to be skeptical about such things as Santa Claus; he had never had a Christmas toy or even a new pair of pants in his stocking on Christmas morning. He would see other children with their new skates and sleds and remark that someday, when he was older he would have a job and be able to buy some of the playthings he wished for. There was no rancor or disappointment in his voice when he discounted Christmas; he had never experienced the festival like other children so he didn't miss the celebration.

The day before Christmas our home was being prepared for the big day. All the last minute things were being looked after and come evening, everything would be in place for the festive day. During breakfast I happened to remark about the number of children that would wake to discover Christmas was just another day. I commented on some of Donald's ideas about Christmas and used his situation as an example of just how easy it is to forget some children. My mother saw an urgent need for someone to take charge of a deplorable situation and make sure one little child could believe in the institution of Christmas. Santa never had such a helper as my mother, preparing for such a special event for a poor family became uppermost for her day.

Off to the store, new pants, stockings and a shirt for Donald and a flannel shirt for his father. A checker board, a paint set and a pencil box, oranges, candies and Christmas nuts; nothing was forgotten for the memorable Christmas. She stopped at the butcher shop for a chicken and at the bakery for a loaf of holiday fruit bread. The rest of the day was a rush to fill a box with gifts and those great home baked goodies from her kitchen. I received a call at work to go out to a farm on the edge of town and cut a small Christmas tree. Nothing was to be left out of this child's Christmas.

Just before midnight on Christmas eve, armed with several boxes, a decorated Christmas tree and everything that would gladden a child's heart on such a wonderful day, mother and I set out for the humble abode on Main street. We left the gifts and things in the doorway, knocked on the door and ran across the street to see what would happen.

A door opened slowly, a small boy looked out, a gaunt man stood in the background not wishing to breath cold air into his injured lungs, then it happened. A wild yell from a small boy: "HE CAME, HE CAME, Look father, Santa Claus did remember."

Several days after Christmas, Donald appeared at my office and was exhuberant in his story about how Santa Claus found his home on Christmas. One little boy never knew just how this special Christmas was arranged; and for as long as I knew him, he would on occasion remark about one very memorable Christmas.
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