Christmas Magic

My grandmother, Sarah Lois, born in 1900, related a narrative of real Christmas magic began each year by her father, which you'll find lovingly remembered above.

The year was 1910. It was a cold night as Arthur sat before the hearth, smoking his pipe. He heard giggles from the room where his eight children slept. His wife, Anna was with them, trying to soothe them so he could begin his usual Santa antics. Anna's mission was arduous. Most youngsters were enthusiastic during Christmas, so she might have to frighten theirs within an inch of their life to get them sleep. His two oldest were wary of his Christmas Eve routine, but the younger ones still believed.

The family’s homestead, albeit poor, was comfortable. Candles flashed throughout, creating amusing shadows. In the corner hung a tree decorated with homemade ornaments, popcorn, and berries. Its simplicity was appealing due to the attentions of so many young hands. Over the hearth hung eight stockings. A hand-sewn quilt lay on his wife’s rocker, and Arthur knew it wouldn’t be long before she joined him.

At the sound of small feet, Arthur looked to discover Sarah and her newborn sister. They stood side by side, stopping just short of the hearth. Arthur could see small toes protruding from beneath their nightgowns. Sarah was ten but thought she was as mature as her elder siblings. At Christmas, however, she was happy to play the small girl since it meant getting things. Her sister, Maybelle, was three, her eyes round as she peered about.

“Daddy,” Sarah began. “Bertie says there’s no Santa. Is that true?” Bertie was the oldest and believed it her job to inform her siblings what she thought she knew.

Arthur adjusted his spectacles. He rose, heading to the far side of the room where he opened a desk and drew out a notebook. He resumed his seat and talked. “Well, now, I don’t rightly know girls if what Bertie says is true. The Santa I know has been around a long time.”

The females returned his look as Arthur continued. “I guess the only thing we can do is see what this book says. This book, after all, is older than me or my daddy.”

The young girls inched closer. Ignoring the numbers written on the page, their daddy read as though the book was rich in words. He had the girl’s complete attention.

“It says you two have been pretty good this year. You’ve listened to me and your Momma. It also says you performed your chores.” Arthur looked up. “Is that right girls?” He permitted them to answer with forceful shaking of their heads. “As for your brothers and sisters, it says they’ve been good, too, so it looks like Santa could be on his way this very moment.” He closed the book.

Joy suffused the girls’ faces. With a severe face, Arthur added, “This book also says Santa won’t be able to stop here if you don’t go to sleep.”

Not waiting another second, Maybelle ran to bed. Once there, she crawled between her sisters, tucking the covers to her chin as she squeezed her little blue eyes, determined to sleep.

Sarah, a believer everything her Daddy said was the almighty truth, gave him a hug and then followed Maybelle. “Move over, Levy. You, too, Bertie,” she said, pushing her way under the covers.

“Sarah, what did Daddy say?” A voice asked. “Did he say Bertie was wrong. Is Santa Claus real?” It was Albert, all of five. He urgently wanted to believe what Bertie said wasn’t true.

“Daddy said you'd better get to sleep or Santa won’t be stopping here,” Sarah retorted.

“Well, I don’t believe it. I believe Bertie,” piped Jack, laying beside Albert. Jack was ten. Since he was the eldest boy, he thought his opinion held weight.

“Oh, shush up or Santa won’t bring you anything!” Sarah quipped. “You should know if Daddy says it’s true, it’s true,” she stated with certainty.

Sarah elbowed Bertie, creating more room for herself in the narrow bed. She believed she was Daddy’s favorite, so she knew he’d never lie, especially about something like Santa. Daddy had read from the special book, too so it had to be true.

From the doorway, their mother spoke. “Your father’s right. Go to sleep and Santa will come.” She blew out the candle before moving to the next room and relaxing in her recliner.

“It won’t be long now, Arthur. Do you have everything ready?” Anna asked.

Arthur grinned. “Santa and reindeer are primed - ready to fly!”

Arthur rose, winking at Anna. “I’ll be back,” he murmured as she helped him wear his heavy coat and boots. He’d best accomplish this before the littler ones went fast asleep.

“Do stay warm, Arthur. It’s frightfully cold,” Anna said, buttoning his coat. Despite the children’s pleasure, she feared when Arthur took to the rooftop. It was icy, so the roof would be treacherous.

Arthur kissed his wife. “You worry too much. I’ll be back before you can say ‘Santa’!”

Arthur locked the door and made his way to the barn. Glancing around, he realized the pond had already frozen over. It was lovely, moonlight gleaming off ice. In the barn, he found a ladder and carried it to rest on the side of the house furthest from the children’s room. Returning to the barn, he pulled a belled piece of rope from an old trunk. Lest he make a disturbance, he cautiously mounted the ladder and proceeded to walk across the rooftop, ensuring each footstep created loud thuds. As he did so, he shook the belled rope, the music filling the air. Beneath, he heard racing and laughter and knew his children were crowding the window, hoping for a sight of Santa or reindeer. Delightful laughing flowed upwards. These were times he knew his children would always remember.

Eventually, Arthur climbed down the ladder, returning it to the barn. As he opened the trunk to replace the bells, his hand touched a small wrapped parcel. Wondering where it had come from and who had put it there, he looked around, but saw no one. He picked up the package to take to the house. It would have to wait - he didn’t want to miss the children’s reaction to his antics.

Quietly, Arthur entered the home, removing his boots and coat. Placing the parcel on the desk, he proceeded to the children’s room. They were still excitedly pushing at the glass, hoping to see Santa.

“I think I just heard Santa and his reindeer on our rooftop! Quick - you’d best get to sleep!” he said, feigning excitement.

The children yelled, crawling over each other to get back in bed. They were ready for Santa and Christmas morning.

“Goodnight, kids. Your Momma and me love you. See you bright and early tomorrow morning.” Arthur said and slammed the door.

“Night, Daddy! Love you!” they all shouted.

Arthur found his wife in her rocker, smiling pleasantly. “The children get so excited. It’s such a special thing you do each Christmas. What beautiful memories they’ll have.”

“I love doing it,” Arthur remarked, picking up the item from the desk and taking a seat. The fire was pleasant before the fireplace.

“What’s that, Arthur?”

“I don’t know,” Arthur answered, explaining he’d found the item in the trunk.

Unwrapping the present, he noticed a little box. Inside the package was a bag and a message. Handing the note to Anna, he remarked, “It looks like we got a present, too.”

Anna put on her glasses. Her blue eyes widened in surprise. “What in the world?”

Arthur halted. “What is it?” he inquired anxiously.

“Well, dear, I’m not really sure,” she answered, her voice tinged with eagerness.

“Well, what does the note say, Anna?”

Anna cleared her voice and read:

“To Arthur and Anna. Thank you for keeping me alive in the hearts of youngsters. Merry Christmas to you and your family!”

Arthur’s forehead furrowed in uncertainty. “What in the world, Anna? Who the heck is it from?”

“Well, now, Arthur, the note is signed by Santa Claus,” she added grinning and disregarding Arthur’s snort of skepticism. “Open the bag and let’s see what Santa gave us,” she teased.

“What in tarnation…?” Arthur opened the bag and chunks of cash poured out. He rapidly counted the loose bills. He’d need his wife’s help to be sure he had counted correctly, but if he had, there was a total of $100.00.

“Santa Claus?” he replied incredulously and held up some of the money. “There’s $100 here, Anna! What the heck?”

Anna broke into the biggest smile ever. “And you thought Santa wasn’t real,” she admonished her husband.

Still in disbelief, Arthur laughed nonetheless. “Who me? Not believing in Santa? You’re dead incorrect! You can guarantee I’ll believe in Santa Claus until I’m planted in the ground – and then some!”