How I got to Spend Christmas in the Snow in California

It was 1954, the war was over and people were finally starting to have fun again. I was only 6 and was unaware of the war time that my grandfather died in. I only saw him in pictures. He was a big strong man. Before the war he was a lumberJack. He built the house we lived in. My dad was his only child and my grandma died just a couple of years after him. Dad says she died the day the telegram arrived telling us that dad died. I never got to meet her either. My moms parents would come to visit every summer, when the weather was bearable, as grandpa would say. They lived in the lower 48, in the state of California. He always says he will take me to visit one day. But my mom said not until I was 16. That seemed like a lifetime at the time. We lived in a little town of Fairbanks Alaska. It was wild there. Dad would take me sometimes on the weekends to pan for gold. Once I found my own nugget. It was small, but still enough for me to open my own bank account. Got $36 in it too. I felt so rich, but dad said I could save it for when I go to California.

Dad worked hard at the saw mill. He and his dad had built that shop themselves. He worked hard 6 days a week. I would go panning every chance I could. It was getting late in the season and soon the snow would fall. I had gone into town with my dad to pick up supplies. There was an auction going on at the old house on Delta hwy. We went to check it out. Dad was looking at all the grab bag kind of boxes. You could see what was on top, but you couldn’t touch anything and who knew what was inside. I was one that I wanted. It had an animal skin in it and I wanted to make some mittens with it. Dad said I could bid on it if I wanted, but I couldn’t go higher than $3. I worried that everyone would want my box. When it came time for my box, most everything else was gone. The bidding started and the auctioneer called out for the first bid.

Do I hear $1 for this fine box, $1 do I hear $1, the auctioneer called out.

Me, I jumped up. I bid $1. I was so excited. This was my first auction ever. I listened as he tried to get the bid to $1.50, but no one bid. Going once, going twice, sold, he said. I jumped up and down with excitement. Dad paid the man and we put the box in the back of dad’s truck, except the fur. I wanted to hold on to that. Dad said that everything in the box was mine too. After all, he said, you paid for it. I remember feeling like it was Christmas or my birthday. I couldn’t have been happier. It was too heavy for me to carry, so dad took it up to my room. I stayed up until I was called for dinner. After dinner I was right back up. I would take one thing out at a time and look at it and decide who I might give it to for Christmas, or if I was going to keep it myself. There were so many things in the box. I even got a pipe. I think I will give that to my dad. It looked nicer than his. I found a box that was locked. I ran it down to my dad to see if he could open it. He got out his tools and with a screwdriver and hammer, he got the lock off. He handed me the box and said, you may have the honor my lady as he handed me back the box. I put it on the table and slowly opened it. I found a little black book and an envelope. I opened the envelope and found a bunch of money. We are rich, I yelled. Mom came running in from the kitchen. She had been canning all day and hardly left the kitchen. What are you yelling about, she asked when she came into the living room. I threw up the money and said again, were rich I said, rich.

I was so excited about the money I had forgotten about the little book I found. Mam said we couldn't keep it. It belonged to the family of the old man who had died. Dad chimed in with, he didn’t have any family, and the auction more than paid for any dept he had. So the money belongs to Sarah, he said. That’s me, I'm Sarah. I will be 7 in 3 more days. I asked dad if I could do anything I wanted with my money. He said that I should put it all in the bank for when I get older. He told me that by putting it in the bank, that I would have more money when it was time for me to leave home. I asked if it all had to go in the bank. What is it you want to do with some of it? He asked me. I looked at him and my mom and said, I want us to go visit grandma and grandpa for Christmas. For Christmas! Dad said loudly. It doesn’t snow in California. Not where your grandparents live. Why would anyone want to live were there is not snow, I wondered.

It was at this time that my mom saw the little black book and picked it up. What’s it say, I asked, no longer focused on the money. It was a journal of sorts, she said. Looks like every dollar here has a story of where it came from.

Every night before I went to bed mom would read me one of the stories. We were half way through the book when my mom committed to how good the stories were. She decided to honor the man who gave us so much by turning his stories into a book. She named it Kurt Albertsons stories of his secret money. You know, it became a bestseller. Oh, dad did let us go to California for Christmas and he was right, it didn’t snow. We did talk Grandma and Grandpa in to go up to Big Bear and stay in a cabin so I could see snow for Christmas.

Mom says every story has a lesson to it. I guess mine is, you never know what is hiding in a box of junk, with a skin on top.