I grew up in a middle class family in Des Moines with my parents and three siblings. It was a great childhood, and my folks provided for our every need. At the same time, there were not a lot of extras in life.
As the youngest of the four, I was used to hand-me-downs. I got my big sib’s clothes, toys, books, and games. As much as I’d like to whine about this in retrospect, I don’t remember feeling cheated as a kid. This was simply the reality. I knew no different. Times were tough and you do the best you can with what you have.
There was a period of years in my childhood in which my parents decided that each Christmas they would do a little something extra for one of the kids. As the youngest, the fact that one of us got a little more than the others was not something I noticed. I must have been so enamored by my G.I. Joe with kung fu grip that I didn’t notice the extra presents in Jody’s pile.
Then it happened to be my year to get a little extra. I distinctly remember being shocked and amazed that everyone had unwrapped all their gifts but there were still more gifts for me! That was the year I got a train set and this, to me, was a genuine Christmas miracle. You see, we had this dog eared copy of the Sears Wish Book catalog that sat on the edge of the bath tub for bathroom reading. There were toys in the catalog that I knew from experience Santa might bring me. Then there were toys that I’d come to realize, in the economy of the North Pole, my good deeds could never afford. Train sets were definitely on the latter list.
Years later I still have fond memories of that special Christmas when there were a few extra presents under the tree for me. Besides the train set, I have no recollection what the gifts were. I’ve come to realize that the greatest gift that year was my parents making me feel loved in a special way. I unwrap that gift every year when my memories take me back to The Big Christmas.