There was a boy from a large family, the eldest of ten. If you’ve ever been part of or seen a large family like that, you know what a challenge it can be just to keep everyone fed. Things add up, quickly.
Times had gotten quite tough for this boy’s family. Christmas was coming and this boy was the only one in the family who had work, back when child labor laws overlooked certain jobs. He was a delivery boy. The other children knew what was going on, even the young ones, who’d learned a harsh lesson about Santa Claus by learning that this would be a spare Christmas. There would be a meal on Christmas day (their father, with the help of their oldest brother, had seen to that), but that’s as far as it went. This was to be the year without Christmas gifts.
Christmas eve’ came and the family went to bed, knowing the underside of the tree would be bare, but happy to be a family, together on this holiday. When they awoke, they were surprised to find a gift for each person in the family. A roll of Lifesavers candies. Each person, that is, except for the one who’d scraped together every last penny of his delivery boy wages, to see that everyone had a gift on Christmas morning. His family gathered around him and they all hugged and cried, before seeing him off to work. The poor lad had to make deliveries on Christmas day.
As soon as he left, his father set everyone a task. His mother prepared the Christmas dinner while the children scurried about, the youngest gathering wood and the older ones gathering tools and helping their father.
When the boy got back home, that evening, he found his family near the tree where they’d started their day. Looking under it, he saw a wooden toy train. He picked it up and looked around at his family, who, again, circled him and hugged and cried.
At dinner, as they held hands and made ready to say a blessing, the boy broke into song. They stood, hand in hand, around the feast, singing Christmas carols.
Times would get better for them. They never had another sparse Christmas like that one. Every year, though, from then on, they exchanged rolls of hard candies and sang around their Christmas dinner.
That was a long time ago. That delivery boy grew up and became a good man. He lived a long, full life and passed away, years ago.
That was my uncle. I learned the story from my father, who’d been the youngest one, gathering wood.
My father and I both play guitar, but I only ever learned one song from him. It’s the same one he plays every year at Christmas: Little Toy Trains. Every year, I get out my guitar and sing that song, like my father.
And every year, among the gifts I give and receive, are rolls of hard candies.
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