I squinted up the
snow-covered road to see if I could spot any sign of activity. It was Christmas
Eve day, 1942, and I was at my grandparents’ farm in northwestern Pennsylvania.
Several feet of snow had already fallen, and it appeared the snow would never stop.
My uncle Leo had come
home on leave from the Marine Corps to be with his wife for the birth of their
baby. He was due back at Camp Pendleton, Calif., two days after Christmas, but
with this weather there was little hope he’d get back on time. Trains weren’t
moving, planes were grounded and there wasn’t a telephone within miles.
Worse yet, the baby was
on a special diet that required condensed milk and our supply at the farm was
dwindling. The nearest store was six miles away, and there was no way to reach
it.
Through the window I
saw Uncle Leo bring “Bell,” Grandpa’s horse, out from the barn. The snow was
right up under her belly, making every step difficult. Uncle Leo was going to
ride to the nearest neighbor’s house to see if they had any canned milk for the
baby’s formula. For me, at age 11, being snowed-in just added to the
excitement.
All our relatives had
made it to Grandpa and Grandma’s farm before the storm closed the roads. My
cousins, aunts and uncles had come together for the holiday and the house was
exploding with noise, expectation and wonderful scents. Earlier, two uncles had
set off to look for the perfect tree while the older grandchildren helped frost
the cookies and all of us kids awaited Santa’s arrival.
Along toward evening, everyone was becoming anxious about Uncle
Leo, who had yet to return. Just as we were sitting down to dinner someone
called out, “There’s Leo.” It turned out the closest farmer had no use for
“store-bought milk” so Uncle Leo had to struggle on another mile to the next
farm. He was finally successful, so now the baby could eat!
Later in the evening,
we kids were sent up to bed. But how could anyone sleep on Christmas Eve? There
were heat registers in the upstairs bedrooms, so we lay on the floor, peering downstairs
through those registers to see anything we could. The adults must have
suspected what we were doing (they probably did the same thing when they were
kids). They moved out of our line of sight—we couldn’t see a thing!
Suddenly we heard a
sound outside. Bells! Sleigh bells! We looked through a window toward the barn
and there it was—a sleigh moving across the snow. It was Santa Claus! It was
really of no consequence to us that the sleigh was being pulled by a horse with
bells on her harness. After all, Santa was coming to our home!
After the sleigh passed
beyond our view, we heard Santa stomping his boots on the front porch.
We ran down stairs and
opened a door just enough to peek into the living room. There, kneeling by the
door was Santa, removing toys from a large white canvas bag and placing them
under the tree. He was dressed in red velvet, had a beautiful white beard,
small glasses, big black boots and the required red hat trimmed with white fur.
Just then, one of the
younger children upstairs woke up and started to cry. Before we could run back
upstairs, the baby’s mother opened the door. We were caught! Her discovery was
greeted with laughs and we were invited into the living room.
We opened our gifts
that night and had a great Christmas the next day. As it turned out, we were
snowed in for more than two weeks!
In consideration of the
circumstances, Uncle Leo was let off with extra KP when he finally returned to
his base in California.
The extended Christmas
we spent together as a family remains one of the most beautiful and memorable
of my life. Funny, I can ‘t even remember what presents I got!
Note: Excerpt taken
from the book The Christmases We Used to
Know, edited by Clancy Strock.
Copied by Barbara Meyer
Bistodeau.