The Christmas That Almost Wasn’t
In the early fifties, my oldest brother, Dick, was in college and my older sister, Louise, was working full-time at the employment office. I was about eight or nine years old, wondering where I misplaced my crayons and looking forward to Christmas.
While she was employed, Louise continued to live at home, with the six of us — Mom and Dad, my two teenaged older brothers, Russell and Raymond, my little sister, Rosie, and me. That year, our skinny-but-real Christmas tree was up in the living room, and Rosie and I enjoyed gawking at the spherical ornaments that reflected our distorted faces. Near the top of the tree was my favorite ornament, a hemispherical shell that contained a sculpted landscape of Bethlehem, complete with an array of stars overhead. When the rear of the ornament was positioned over one of the Christmas lights, tiny Bethlehem was bathed in subdued light and stars radiated the glory of that wondrous night of Jesus’ birth.
Rosie and I were too young to realize that Christmas almost didn’t happen that year. Dad worked at the Chrysler plant and was laid off work just before and during the holidays. While Rosie and I shook the decorative snow globes and watched out the windows for real snow, the adults and teenagers whispered the unthinkable: “Santa Claus probably won’t come to 1611 F Avenue this year.” They kept the bad news to themselves and Rosie and I continued to have faith.
Christmas morning arrived and Rosie and I sneaked into the living room at an early hour. We discovered that Santa did make it to 1611 F Avenue! Rosie got a doll, Raymond and Russell got a movie projector, complete with a screen and films, and I got a toy rifle that propelled cork ammunition from the barrel. Christmas Day was its usual joyful reverie: Rosie played with her doll, I was cautioned not to shoot my rifle in the house and we all laughed uncontrollably at the silent movie antics of Lou Costello as a wrestler — and it was twice as funny when Raymond and Russell showed it backwards! Everyone was so happy; no one said a word about this being the Christmas that almost wasn’t.
Only when I was a mature adult with children of my own did I find out the circumstances of that special Christmas Day: my sister, Louise, with her regular paycheck and her generous heart, was solely responsible for Christmas that year. She even used her little Kodak camera to record the happiness and pride on her siblings’ faces.
Looking closely at that photo, particularly at the Christmas tree in the background, you can see that Bethlehem ornament nestled in the upper branches. Yes, the lights are still on in Bethlehem and love rules the world.