A Christmas Story

A Christmas Story



You, know I once read that life is a journey with a beginning, middle and finally a destination or an end. Like any other trip we make, most often we miss many of the wonderful sights along the way. I guess it's natural to remember the major events school years, marriage, children and work but what I find most rewarding is the remembrance of the little things that so often affected my life the most but were quickly forgotten This was especially true for a young Irish/English boy growing up in Paterson, New Jersey during those depression years. The clothes many of us wore came from the Salvation Army store or most often were someone's throw always. I seldom had new clothes to wear but nothing left a mark on my life like my shoes. Shoes someone else had thrown away in the trash. My early years before World War II were like so many of my generation, a time of poverty and hardships.

Most often if you looked at the bottom of my shoes you would find a large hole. If I were lucky there was only a hole in one shoe. By the time I was eight years old I became an expert at cutting inserts to fit inside my shoes. My Dad taught me to check the trash cans behind local stores on my way home from school for pieces of press board or cardboard that could be cut for insoles to fit inside my shoes for the next day. When I dressed for school each morning I would insert a new insole into my shoe and place as many spares as possible in my back pocket as replacements. As the day’s school activities progressed I would feel the insole starting to wear out and it would be necessary to replace it with a new one. I had to replace the insole before I wore a hole in my sock or I would catch heck when I got home that night. If I were lucky I might have some insoles left over for the next day. So each evening I would cut new cardboard for the next day's journey.

Mom and Dad were always on the lookout for replacement shoes for me. Now as I look back I must explain that regardless of how poor we were dad always had an old car. It didn't always run and most of the time he didn't have money for gas, but he always had an old car. Dad knew in what part of town and on what nights the trash was collected. So if the car ran and Dad had money for gas, mom, dad and I would spend the evenings hunting through garbage cans looking for whatever we could find of value. Mom would drive the car and dad and I would walk on opposite sides of the street going through the trashcans. We saved old wire, rags, newspaper or any clothes we could find. The next day I would burn the insulation off the wire, tie the rags and newspaper in bundles, pile as many as I could in my old red wagon, and head for the local salvage yard to see what we could sell our treasures for. If we were lucky we had enough money to put some more gas in the car and have something left over. It was about three miles from my house to the salvage yard and I would always take the long way around trying not to pass the houses where my school friends lived because I did not want them to see me pulling this load of trash down the street, Guess I was too proud and didn't want everyone to know how bad off our family was. It seemed like everyone was poor but we were all proud.

Sometimes we were lucky and found usable clothes in the trash and that made it a good night's pickings. When we got back home we would go through the wearable clothes to see what would fit and the rest we would offer to friends. On one such evening my dad found a pair of old sport shoes, the kind men wear on special occasions. They were black and white with only one small hole in the left sole and about three sizes too big for me. All I had to do was stuff the toes with newspaper and make an insert for the sole of the left shoe. Well for the rest of the school year I was the only boy in old Public school #5 to wear black and white sport shoes every day even in the snow. I was constantly made fun of by the other kids but that was the way of life back then.

The school dress code for boys was anything that was decent and for some reason we all wore a tie with our shirt. We had only one forbidden item of clothes and that was gym shoes, or sneakers. The reason was some of the kids would wear the same pair of canvas sneakers every day and after a period of time they would start to smell real ripe and become unbearable to the rest of the students. So they were the only item of clothes that were banned in our school.

When we look back at life's journey most of us have memories of individuals that affected our lives in some way. For me that person was Mrs. Ackerman my fourth grade teacher. Back in 1934 most of the classes in Public School #5 had 40 to 50 pupils yet as difficult as it sounds, Mrs. Ackerman always commanded our attention and respect. She knew each one of us by name, our background, our troubles and our needs. She had long beautiful hair and each morning would roll it up into a ball on the back of her head. At times she was as hard as nails but she would always listen to our problems. She was like a wonderful grandmother to most of us.

Early one morning, the last day before Christmas, Mrs. Ackerman announced she had a small gift for each one of us and for two of the students she had a special gift. One for the best girl and one for the best boy of the day. All gifts would be given out at the end of the day before the bell rang to go home. She held up a nice doll for the girl's prize and then she held up the most wonderful prize for the best boy. It was a toy silver Zeppelin that made sparks as it rolled on the desk. Never, never in my whole life had I seen a gift like this, my mind spun with excitement and I decided that I would be the best darn kid in the class and the Zeppelin would be mine.

All day long I tried to be perfect. I answered all the questions correctly when called upon, read my book when we were told to and if not busy I would sit up with my hands folded on the desk, back straight and eyes to the front. As the day went by I wanted to look around the class to see how the other boys were doing, but this might count against me. Close to noon I had to go to the bathroom, normal procedure was to raise your hand and ask to be excused but not this time I just sat there and held off till the lunch bell rang. I wasn't taking any chances. I had to win the prize.

As the day went by the pressure was almost unbearable. There on Mrs. Ackermans desk was my Zeppelin waiting for me to walk up and accept it as my very own. My mom and dad would be so proud of me and I would have this wonderful Christmas present all to myself. Mom and dad always tried to have some small present for us to open Christmas morning, but the depression and made it difficult for all of us.Once, when we were told to open our books and read a chapter I almost fell asleep but caught myself just in time. The magic hour was getting closer every second and I knew I was the best boy in the whole school that day. All the rest of the kids in the class would be envious of me as I marched to the front of the room to be presented with my present. Time was getting closer. Any minute the winners would be announced.

This was the longest day of my life. I know no one could have been better than me. Finally, Mrs. Ackerman was moving around the class giving out a card and a box of hard candy to each of us. There she goes to her desk. It will be any second now. I'm so excited inside that I am shaking all over. Why is she giving out the girls present first? Let's get to my prize!! When she calls my name I'll stand up and take my time walking to the front of the class. I want to enjoy this moment the most. Here it is, now is the time, Mrs.Ackerman looks over the class and calls out the winner. “Will Joey Cantrell come to my desk to receive his present?” Wait, no that can't be right. How can it be? My insides filled with the feeling of hurt as tears run down my cheeks. What had I done wrong? I tried hard to be the best all day, honest I did. I tried to wipe the tears from my cheeks so no one would see but inside I was still crying. I thought that this Christmas I would get a real present that I could keep forever.

Mrs. Ackerman stood by her desk and talked to us, telling how she enjoyed being our teacher and really loved each and every one of us. She then wished us all a very merry Christmas. As the school bell rang to end our day she said, "Wait just one moment, Bobby. It will be necessary for you to stay after school for a while. Class dismissed".

What had I done? I tried to be the best, but somehow I must have failed. Not only did I not receive my present but also now I had to stay after school for punishment. No one will ever know how I felt inside. I was shaking all over and crying hard without the tears. As the rest of the class left the room they all crowded around Joey to see his present and they all turned and looked back at me sitting alone and I died again and again. I listen to the eraser squeak as Mrs. Ackerman clears the blackboard before she takes her seat at the desk. I feel so alone as I sat at my desk remembering that my dad always said," Remember big boys do not cry ".

Finally Mrs. Ackerman asked me to come forward to her desk. That was the longest walk of my life. I tried to hold my head high but I couldn't, I was having a hard time fighting back the tears. “Bobby, “Mrs. Ackerman said, "You have always been one of my favorite students and I know of the many problems you are facing every day of your life. Today you have been more than the best boy in my class, so I kept you after school to give you some special gifts for Christmas from me." She reached inside her desk and pulled out another Zeppelin and gave it to me. I couldn't believe my eyes. It was all mine. The tears finally flowed down my cheeks. Next she reached into her desk again and out came a new pair of shoes for me. Not used, but a real spanking new pair of shoes, even in a shoebox. She again wished me a happy holiday season and asked me to keep this as our little secret. I thanked her and turned with my arms full and tears running down my cheeks but as I left the room I turned back and said, “I love you Mrs. Ackerman.”

Life for all of us moved on and as World War II started jobs became more plentiful and life got a little easier. Never again did I wear someone’s worn out shoes; even the U.S. Navy gave me a new pair. As time passed I could afford to buy many pairs of shoes but something inside always held me back and I never spent a lot of money on shoes and I have never forgotten Mrs. Ackerman.