There is something mystical about evenings in late December, bringing to mind a small 6-year-old child who felt the magic of Christmas in 1937, the year Seattle had a rare blustery snowstorm.
Our family had no money, after losing everything in 1929, and living in an old walk-up drafty cold-water flat in town, with one bathroom to a floor. If the folks had an extra nickel, we could ride the old rattling streetcars all over the city with free transfers. They were little chits of paper to hand to the next conductor.
The streets had jovial Santas on every corner in red suits, ringing large silver bells, singing out “Merry Christmas!” And if you had that extra penny it went into the black hanging iron pot for someone worse off than you.
Music came from the warm five-and-dime stores as young ladies were playing carols on the piano and trying to interest patrons into buying sheet music while shopping on their limited budgets. An out-of-work musician might drop by and play his instrument, getting the crowd singing, with a joke or two.
Young women were busily sitting on stools behind a counter repairing long silk stockings. This was before the nylons of today. A run was a disaster for the working girl.
The magic of that clear icy night with a bright moon shining overhead, was in the anticipation of seeing the Bon Marché department store’s animated Christmas window, with a Victorian family scene. The happy, smiling family stood admiring the beautiful candlelit Christmas tree with gifts and wonderful toys beneath. The watching children had little noses pressed against the windows that steamed up from their warm breath, and one could hear the chatter of “Look mom, look” and “Mom, can I ask Santa” for this or that.
Sadly, most never saw the item they hungered for. The Depression was still the enemy. But for those magical moments, the scene portrayed better days ahead. I stood in awe and drank it all in as only a child could.
I look at children now, and wonder: Do any of them feel like that little 6-year-old of so long ago? During the holidays, or any day really, we see stores and shops that are filled with every toy one can imagine. Checking the closets of many children, you will find enough toys for five or more. Most are played with and then given to charity, or thrown into garbage fills.
As for me, I collect good-condition, stuffed animals for a child who may not have much of a Christmas. They are put into the washer in Woolite on a gentle cycle, dried, brushed and new ribbons put on them. When through, they look as good as new.
The Sunshine Ladies save donated stuffed animals from rummage sales for me every year, sometimes by the garbage bag full. We hope the next little owners will feel a tiny bit of the love and care that have gone into them, and be reminded of the Magi who brought gifts to the Christ Child to celebrate his birth. Giving a gift means nothing without careful thought and a lot of love going into it.
“The Toy Maker’s Gift”
The Sunshine Women of Redeemer UMC invite the public Dec. 20, at 6:30 p.m. to see the play, “The Toy Maker’s Gift,” performed by the Hansville Community Church Players and adapted from Leo Tolstoy’s short story, “Where Love Is. There God is Also.”
This is a complimentary showing. No tickets. Bring the family and invite friends. Please stay after and enjoy refreshments. Place: Redeemer United Methodist Church, 9900 Shorty Campbell Road, just off Parcells. Questions: Call Jim Wise, (360) 638-1994. Merry Christmas and God bless all!
— Contact columnist Jacque Thornton at jacquejt@centurytel.net
