Memories of a very special Christmas back when we were children.

I grew up with five brothers and one sister in a loving home in rural Pennsylvania back in the late 50's and the 60's. Our parents were absolutely the best folks any child could have wished for. I wanted to tell you about how they taught us lessons and here is just one example.

One evening just a day or two before Christmas Dad asked us if we had a favorite toy, and of course each one of us said yes. He then asked us what they were and as we told him, mother wrote them down.

After supper Dad asked us each to go upstairs and get those favorite toys and we did so. As we sat on the living room floor Mom and Dad brought out wrapping paper and asked us to wrap them. From each of us came confusion and questions of why.

Dad got up and walked away saying that he would be right back and we immediately bombarded Mom with our questions and all she said was just wait a minute. And then Dad came back in the room with a Santa suit on and he told us that because we were so fortunate as to have a favorite toy each, we needed to spread the goodness of those favorite toys and give them to others that were less fortunate so that they too could have a favorite toy.

I'm sure you know how well that went over with us seven kids. We pitched a fit and begged and cried and did whatever we could do to stop it, but it was to no avail. Our mean parents made us wrap our toys and since they had already written down our favorites there was no way to substitute another of much less personal value! We were stuck. And we were mad as we wrapped them, crying the whole time.

After we finished they loaded us all up in the station wagon, Dad in his Santa suit and all of the gifts in the back, and we left. He drove down a small street to a home where they had even more children than us and their father had passed away suddenly that year.

As Dad got out he looked at each one of us, mad and still crying over our toys, and then he brought those gifts to the door as we all watched from the station wagon.

Crying that is, until we saw all of the children pop out of that front door and receive the gifts handed them by Santa. We sat silently and in awe as we watched them open the gifts in front of Santa and their very grateful and crying Mother. I saw one of them absolutely tickled to death to get my well used "Uncle Wiggly" board game.

 And when Santa climbed back into the station wagon waving goodbye and saying "Merry Christmas",  he witnessed each and every one of us crying still, but no longer because we had lost our toys. Now it was because we fully understood the true meaning of Christmas!

As Santa drove home the seven of us children quickly stopped crying and immediately began jabbering excitedly about the other old toys that we were going to wrap the very minute that we got home; that's when Mom and Dad started to cry.

God bless you and Merry Christmas to all.

Glen C. Schulz