The Year that Christmas Almost Didn't Happen...
by Ruth A. Metter
After the depression ended, we had our own private depression. The Christmas when I was nine years old was a really bad one for our family. We had absolutely no money, the lights and gas had been turned off for nonpayment, and we couldn't afford a Christmas tree, much less gifts. My younger brother had been in the hospital for over a year and he wasn't expected to live. Needless to say, ours was a very gloomy household. I was working after school and on Saturdays in the Chinese laundry downstairs from where we lived. I made the princely sum of five dollars a week for my efforts, and I happily gave it to my Mother. Mother was determined that we would have a Christmas, and she took me to downtown Chicago to the large Woolworth's store ad we shopped for gifts for the rest of the children. Since there were seven of us at the time it was not very easy to find things in our price range. Somehow my Mother managed to buy me something for each of my brothers and sisters. Then she asked me what I wanted. I had my heart set on a three tier pencil box for school, but it cost ninety-eight cents, and I knew we couldn't afford it. The pencil box was genuine imitation alligator, and contained a ruler, pencil, compass, protractor and an eraser. No one in our school had a pencil box with three tiers, and I was just longing for that box. I told my Mother that I had wanted the pencil box, but I would rather have something she made for me herself. When we got home the excitement of wrapping gifts for the family took some of the heartache away from knowing there would be no real Christmas for us. We couldn't even afford a Christmas dinner, and we didn't even have a gas range to cook the food on even if we could have afforded the food. With the gas shut off, the house was cold, we all wore our coats to bed. We had a kerosene lamp, but we didn't use it anymore than it was absolutely necessary. When Christmas Eve came, we all went to Church except my mother and my older brother Bill. They stayed at home and we couldn't figure out why. When we got home from church, the house was all lit up, there was heat, and there was a Christmas tree. Bill had told his teacher at school that we didn't have a tree, so she took the tree down from the school Christmas Eve and brought it over to our house. Mother and Bill decorated it while we were at church. The teacher also got in touch with Hull House, an organization here in Chicago which helps poor families, and it was they who got our gas and electricity turned on Christmas Eve. They also supplied us with a full Christmas dinner and we each received a gift from them. The social worker whose name was Mrs. Oldman came to our house herself and stayed with mother and Bill to be certain everything was taken care of. When we opened our Christmas presents mine was the last one to be opened. To my amazement I found my treasured pencil box. I nearly cried from being so happy. I don't know how quite my mother managed to get it for me, but I do remember that she had me wait outside the store for a minute while she retrieved a lost glove. I guess she spent the last of the five dollars on that box. I used it until it totally fell apart. My mother always said that “God will provide” and he really came through that year for us. On Christmas Day the entire family went to see my older brother Bob, and all of us were allowed to wave to him while my father held him up by the window. That Christmas stands out as one of my best ever, even though it almost didn't happen. Click here to read or post comments. |
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