It’s not how much we give but how much love we put into giving. – Mother Theresa, Albanian Indian Catholic nun (1910-1997)
I have a nice collection of Christmas stories. I thought I’d share a few over the next two Tuesdays before Christmas Eve arrives. Maybe you’d like to read it to children or just reminisce yourself. In the late 1980’s my dad was working on a book of his growing up days. His family moved from Natchez to Jackson in 1922 where he met his best friend, Jimmy. In those days boys would have been called “ruff and rowdy.” There were no radios and no TV, so they made up their own toys and games. On a cold day near Christmas dad and Jimmy walked to the park talking about presents like skates, bicycles, goodies like oranges, apples, and candy. Then they saw two little raggedy girls and two little raggedy boys playing with bottles and sticks in the bare yard. Jimmy said they looked poor. The two boys walked down to the Checkerboard Store where Mr. Tuttle said the father has TB, his wife couldn’t do much, but she did take in washing and ironing to earn a little money. Jimmy said, “We gone have the best Christmas ever. That’s what Jesus would do. We gonna be Santa Clause to that poor family.”
Jimmy rounded up the gang, Jack, Smoky, Moses, Sanky, Billy and Harry. He told each one what block to go to and ask for Christmas donations for a poor family. He also told them not to tell the family’s name. Even though it was a depression everyone gave a little something, used toys, wagons, dolls, games, swings, and some folks gave cooked foods. Mr. Tuttle gave the most from the store. Mr. Tuttle’s son Tom packed all the goodies in the truck. On Christmas Eve night the boys meet Tom at the house at 10 p.m. where they quietly place everything on the old porch. Jimmy the ringleader led everyone partway down from the shanty house, the house looked so dark and gloomy. Then Jimmy yelled, “Ho! Ho! Ho! Merry Christmas to all and to all a Happy New Year.” We looked back and saw a light come on and a door open, we skipped happily down the street, talking and wishing we could have been there the next morning to see the kid’s eyes bug out over all the clothes, shoes, groceries, fruits, nuts, candies, and plenty of toys, brought by this little boys of our gang, led by Jimmy playing Santa Claus.
Next day, Christmas, we just had to wander by the house on the hill, one or two at a time, to sneak a look at the mother and daddy sitting on the porch, watching four of the happiest kids in the world on Christmas morning. I turned to see Jimmy, and I think I saw a tear or two of happiness, for the kids, trickling down his ruddy cheeks. It was the best Christmas me and Jimmy ever had.
Shannon Bardwell is a writer living quietly in the Prairie. Email reaches her at [email protected].
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Quality, in-depth journalism is essential to a healthy community. The Dispatch brings you the most complete reporting and insightful commentary in the Golden Triangle, but we need your help to continue our efforts. In the past week, our reporters have posted 46 articles to cdispatch.com. Please consider subscribing to our website for only $2.30 per week to help support local journalism and our community.
