Christmas of 1910

The year was 1910, and it was a bitter, cold winter night. Arthur sat before the cozy fire, slowly rocking in his chair and smoking his pipe as he listened to the giggles and excitement from the next room where his eight children slept. His wife, Anna, was with them and was attempting, albeit unsuccessfully, to settle them down so that he could begin his annual Santa Claus masquerade. He shook his head. She had her work cut out for her. What child wouldn’t be filled with excitement on Christmas Eve? She might have to threaten them within an inch of their lives to achieve such an endeavor.

The farmhouse was small but comfortable and charming in its simplicity. Candles burned, flickering throughout the room as they created dancing shadows on the four walls. In the far corner was a small pine tree covered in homemade paper ornaments and decorated with strands of berries and popcorn. It was a simple tree but quite charming nonetheless due to the attentions of so many little ones. He could still smell the pie that his wife had baked earlier that afternoon, the fresh scent of cinnamon and apples lingering in the air. There were eight stockings hung from the rugged mantle, one for each child. A hand sewn quilt lay draped across the back of his wife’s rocking chair, and he knew it wouldn’t be long before she joined him and helped to set tonight’s plan in motion. His two oldest children, fourteen and twelve, had grown suspicious, but the younger ones were still quite eager to believe in the magic of Santa Claus and the possibility of real reindeer.

He heard the pitter patter of small feet approach and looked up to find Sarah Lois with her little sister by her side, her tiny hand firmly encased in her older sister’s larger one. Small, wiggly toes peeked from the hemline of the girls’ nightgowns. Sarah Lois was only ten, but she often thought she was as mature as her two older siblings. Still, it was Christmas, and she was willing to be the little girl for a while longer, especially if it meant getting presents. Her little sister, Maybelle, was just shy of three years, and her eyes were large round saucers as she expectantly looked around the room, unsure as to what or who she might see.

“Daddy,” Sarah Lois began. “Bertie says there is no Santa and that we are all being silly. Is that true, Daddy? Is there really no Santa?”

Arthur pushed his spectacles more firmly in place on his nose as he looked at the two girls and rose from his chair. He walked to the far side of the room and removed a small black notebook from the cabinet. Before opening it, he looked at them and said, “Well, I don’t’ know – maybe Bertie’s right and maybe Bertie’s wrong. The only thing we can do is to look and see what this special book says about it.”

The two girls inched closer to their Daddy as he pretended to read from the book. “It says in here that you two girls have been pretty good this year, listening to your Momma and doing your chores. And your brothers and sisters, well, it says they’ve been good, too. So it looks like Santa might be on his way and that Bertie might be wrong.”

He glanced up to see the surprise etched across the two girls’ faces. Smiling to himself, he continued, “But it also says that Santa won’t likely be stopping by our house to visit if you children don’t hurry up and get to sleep.”

Not waiting another moment, Maybelle took off running back to bed and crawled between her other two sisters, pulling the covers up to her chin as she squeezed her little blue eyes shut. She was determined to go to sleep so that Santa would not miss her house. She was looking forward to an orange and whatever else Santa saw fit to leave in her stocking.

Sarah Lois, a bit more reluctant, but a firm believer that anything her Daddy said was true, nodded and followed behind her little sister to head back to the crowded bed. “Move over, Levy. You, too, Bertie,” she said, pushing her way under the covers and seeking a bit of extra blanket to ward off the chill of the night.

“Sarah Lois, what did Daddy say?” a little voice whispered excitedly from the corner. “Did he say there really was a Santa Claus?” It was Albert, who was all of five years old. He desperately wanted to believe that what Bertie had told them was not true.

“Daddy says you better get to sleep or Santa won’t be stopping here,” she quickly responded.

“Well, I don’t believe it,” piped Jack from where he lay next to Albert. He was eight, but since he was the eldest boy, he thought that his opinion counted. “I believe Bertie.”

“Oh shush up, Jack! Or Santa will bring everyone but you and Bertie something in those stockings,” Sarah Lois quipped back. “And you should know by now that if Daddy says it’s true, it’s true,” she added with conviction. She smiled to herself as she elbowed Levy to make more room in the bed. She liked to think that she was her Daddy’s favorite, so she was absolutely, positively sure that he would never lie about something as important as Santa.

From the doorway, although extremely tired from the long day, their mother smiled. “Sarah Lois is right. Go to sleep children. Santa will not come if you’re awake.” She turned and headed into the other room where she sat down at long last in her rocking chair.

Anna looked at Arthur and smiled. “It won’t be long now,” she said. “Do you have everything ready outside in the barn?”

Arthur nodded. “Santa is primed and ready to fly.”

After five minutes or so, Arthur quietly rose and winked at his wife. “I’ll be back shortly,” he said after she helped him don his winter coat and heavy boots. He’d best do this thing before the littler ones were fast asleep.

Heading out to the barn, he picked up a ladder and carried it to the far side of the house, the one furthest away from the children’s bedroom window. Returning to the barn, he walked to the back of it and opened an old trunk, where he removed a rope with several bells attached to it. Carefully, lest he make a sound, he made his way back to the ladder and slowly climbed to the top of the roof. Once on the rooftop, he began to walk across the length of it, deliberately and with force, ensuring every booted step came down with a huge thud. As he did so, he shook the belled rope he carried, the light sound of tinkling bells ringing in the still of the cold winter night. Beneath him, he could hear the shrills and laughter of his children. He was sure that they were peering out of their bedroom window in hopes of seeing Santa and his reindeer. He laughed to himself, thoroughly enjoying the masquerade and delighted by the laughter coming from below. It would be something his children would fondly remember and talk about for years to come.

After a short while of repeating his footsteps and ringing the bells, Arthur hurriedly climbed down the ladder and made his way back to the barn, intending to return the rope to the depths of the trunk. As he did so, however, his hand brushed against an old brown box that had not been there only minutes earlier when he’d removed the rope. Curious, he picked up the box and quickly walked to the house. He’d have to wait to open it to see what it was after he was back inside. He wanted to see his children first so that he could assure them he’d heard the same proof of Santa on their rooftop.

As he quietly entered the farmhouse, he discarded his boots and coat, leaving them by the door as he placed the old box on the kitchen table and then quickly made his way to the children’s room. They were pushing against each other repeatedly in an attempt to better see out the window to catch sight of Santa or his reindeer.

“Did you hear that?” he asked, his voice full of surprise as he walked into the room. “I’m pretty sure that I just heard Santa and those reindeer on our roof! Quick! You had best get back into bed before he leaves!”

The children shrieked and giggled as they climbed over one another and eagerly sought the warmth of their beds.

Arthur turned to leave, a huge smile on his face. “Momma and I are headed to bed, too. Goodnight – we love you,” he said.

“Night, Daddy!” they all screamed in unison.

Heading back into the next room, Arthur found his wife still seated in her rocking chair, a contented smile upon her tired face. “The children get so excited every year, Arthur. It’s such a special thing that you do,” she said.

“I love doing it – and surprising them,” he said before he reached to take up the old brown box he’d found outside in the trunk. He took his seat across from her. The fire felt good after the cold, brutal wind outside.

“What’s that?” Anna asked, looking at what he held.

“I’m not sure,” Arthur answered as he opened the lid of the weathered, brown box, explaining to Anna that he’d found it in the trunk but didn’t remember putting it there.

Nestled inside the old box, he found a black bag tied shut with a string and a note lying on top of it. He picked up the note and handed it to his wife to read as he started to unknot the string.

Anna took the note and squinted in concentration as she read it. Her blue eyes widened as she looked at her husband. “What in the world…”

He had been about to open the bag, but one glance at his wife’s expression stopped him. “What is it? What’s wrong?” he asked, thoroughly alarmed.

Anna just stared at him, amazement clearly evident on her face. “I’m not really sure,” she said, her voice nearly trembling.

“Anna? What’s wrong?” Arthur repeated and pressed her for an answer. “What does the note say?”

Anna looked at him, not knowing how to proceed. Finally, she cleared her throat and began to read the note aloud: “To Arthur and Anna. Thank you for keeping me alive in the hearts of children.”

Arthur’s brow furrowed, confusion crossing his face. “What? Who’s that note from?” he asked.

“Well, it’s signed ‘Santa Claus’,” Anna said, laughing as she ignored Arthur’s snort of disbelief. “Open the bag, Arthur. Let’s see what Santa brought us,” she teased.

“What in the world….” Arthur said as he unwrapped the string. As he did so, several pieces of currency spilled out. Speechless for a short while, he regained his senses and then quickly counted the money. There were forty $500 bills. He needed his wife’s help to make sure he had counted correctly, but if he had, there was a total of $20,000 in the bag.

He held up a few of the bills for Anna to see. “Santa Claus?” he asked incredulously, his voice only above a whisper.

Anna’s disbelief and surprise were clearly evident as well. But then she suddenly broke into a smile that was the biggest and most beautiful smile Arthur had ever seen. “And you thought Santa Claus didn’t exist,” she chided.

Arthur returned her smile with an even larger one. “Who me? Not believe in Santa Claus? Never!” he said. “I’ll be a believer until I’m planted in the ground – and then some!”