The Christmas of ’51
Several years ago, I posted a story about the Christmas holidays and the Christmas of 1951, when my husband was 4 years old. It’s a story worth reposting because its message conveys the real meaning of the holidays: being with the ones you love.
A couple of days before Christmas, my then 4-year old husband was playing outside. Up the street and at the curb in front of a fraternity house was a Christmas tree that had been thrown away when the residents left for the holidays. He dragged the tree home because he knew his parents couldn’t afford to buy a tree that year. Taken aback by his resourcefulness, his parents put that half dead tree up in their family room and by all accounts, it was perfect in their eyes except that it was missing a topper.
My in-laws had not bought a present for each other because money was scarce so they went downtown and bought an angel to top their tree and that was their present to each other the Christmas of ’51. They had 56 more Christmas days together and every year, that same angel was on the top of their tree to remind them of that special Christmas when all they really had was each other and that was enough.