Sometimes the best gifts come with the smallest price tag.
One of my favorite Christmas memories dates back more than fifty years. Filled with six year old wonder and excitement, I raced down the steps into the living room, graced with a sparkling Christmas tree. What did Santa Claus bring me? I was six years old and not yet savy enough to drop my innocent belief in Sant Claus. At last, the long awaited day had arrived. With great anticipation, I spun down our spiral staircase and laid eyes on the most beautiful sight.
When I looked under the tree, my eyes bristled with the sight of a small red wagon. It was the most beautiful toy in the world. My tiny heart leapt with happiness as I yanked it out from under the tree and carted it around the house. Over the years this little wonder toted cats, dogs, dolls, and a thousand other child treasures. It was a tiny taxi service to anything it could hold. Would Christmas wonders never cease?
Nine years later, it was due for a change. My small prize had grown old. The red hue had rusted over and a new paint job awaited. Every one of my green paint strokes was gifted with all the love I could muster for my faithful friend after all those years of service.
In a matter of a few seconds my mother shattered my new toy dreams. It seems that in an effort to save money, my parents took my brother's green wagon and painted it red. It was now going full cycle.
I felt a vague sense of disappointment when she told me this. Years later I would wonder how many toys my brother put in that wagon.
My parents were poor. My father was a milk man and my mother had yet to begin working at the Webster Groves Schnuck's store as a checker, a job she held for twenty five years. Money was scarce. So my Christmas gift from them was a hand me down. Growing up in that family had its share of challenges. Whenever I think of my father's drinking, my mind goes back to that brightly colored wonder and the seeds of forgiveness continue to ripen.
Even if it wasn't new, it reflected my parents' desire to give me a happy Christmas.
Parents, what can you give your children that they will treasure for life?
Merry Christmas to all!
I'm Barbara Altman
Raised in an alcoholic home, I became depressed and riddled with anxiety at an early age. In an effort to build a good life, I turned to my love of classical music for comfort, financial resources, and a place in the community. Over the years, I have dealt with depression in a variety of ways, from counseling to alternative and traditional healing modalities. One of the purposes in my life is to convey hope to those who have suffered from depression and I hope to do this in my writings and in speaking engagements.
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