12/8/2009

Dear Louie,

Soon, during the next three weeks, an annual event will occur. That event is the organization and completion of the Christmas Committee’s annual program of gifting. For the past twenty-three years, Dorothy and I have been associated with the Christmas committee’s Annual Program. We initially were invited to lend our name and participate to “ride in the parade” and help to promote the event. Having just retired from the local clinic, and being unemployed for the first time in my life, I gladly accepted the invitation and that invitation has lasted for twenty-three years. Each year we have assisted in the collection, and distribution of gifted clothing, games, and other presents to many families of the Hartford area; each year we have been rewarded with a feeling of gratitude; gratitude for another good year, gratitude for the health to participate in the project, and gratitude to realize that we have gained more than given. We have made many friends of people whom we never would have met, we have been privileged to ease the anxiety of many, at least for a moment; and we have been humbled to realize how fortunate we have been. But, each year I recall Christmases of the past, Christmases of my youth when we were the recipients of the kindnesses and thoughts of others. I would like to recall some of the Christmases of the past.

The earliest Christmas I truly recall was when living on Forest St., in a rental unit. The landlord who lived in the flat above was a pleasant middle-aged single woman. She was employed at the local cannery, Libby McNeil and Libby, worked in the beet sorting department, and had hands with multiple small finger cuts from the sorting and trimming the red beets. She would arrive home nightly, in the early evening, about five o’clock, as dark was falling. She had walked nearly a mile after spending ten hours on the trimming line. Her fingers were wrapped with bandages, bloody and matted, the left hand much more than the right, she held the trimming knife in the right hand and nicked the fingers of her left hand easily and frequently. She was tired, but very pleasant. My brother and I would go upstairs to visit before supper.

She had a small kitchen, a wooden table, three wooden chairs, a sink, and a cupboard, and an oil stove. The stove had two burners, with isinglass doors. The room was lit by two 75 watt bulbs and many shadows clouded the corners. After being offered cookies and milk, she would sing German songs, German Christmas songs. We would sit under the kitchen table, hum along as she sang the German Christmas carols. She had no children, she was an unwed maiden; we were missing our Mother who was a patient in the County Tubercular Hospital. She, Mary, made the season very special for us. Whenever, now, I hear “Heilege Nacht, Stillege Nacht” I again am sitting under the kitchen table, and hearing Mary’s clear voice, I can almost taste the cookies. That Christmas at the age of nine, was saved by the kindness of Mary, the landlord upstairs.

Christmases are often saved by friends and acquaintances, by neighbors and relatives, by events and memories. I recall Christmas Eve at the old St. Kilian’s Church. St. Kilians was an old church, a Gothic structure of the 1880s, called a Prairie Gothic. It was quite large by the standards of the day, seating about five hundred at midnight Mass; twenty-five rows of twenty in each row, some standing in the back and in the side isles. Usually, it was packed for the Midnight Service. Usually, it was cold for the first hour but was warmed by the closely seated congregation.

The sanctuary was surrounded by Christmas trees, and the side altar was covered by the manger scene. Candles were everywhere, incense filled the air and the boy sopranos sang Silent Night. The singers were of varied talents, many possessed little if any talent, but one singer stood above all the others. My classmate, a lad by the name of Ray Lenz, had the greatest voice of pure substance of any of the singers. The rest of us tagged along, without much harmony but with a great deal of effort, and some envy.

Before the Mass the servers dressed in a room above the Sacristy. There in a space of twelve by twenty feet, twenty-five boys from the sixth grade through the sophomore years assembled, put on their cassocks and surpluses, talked, and laughed. All told what they had received under the tree. Some of us were quite quiet as for many reasons we received little; the depression and reduced wages prompted a profound decrease in Christmas gifting. Comparison of gifting resulted in many of us being silent. Two of the boys were the envy of many of us; their father worked for the postal service and had a regular, relatively high-paying job. They received multiple gifts, but were kind and said little. We others were aware of their kindness. But, everyone enjoyed the night and the good fortune of some was accepted and really envied. However life went on, we served Mass, sang at the crib, and then went home, walking in the snow, to our homes where for the day we were happy and blessed.

We had chicken, roasted; cranberries, dressing, and mashed potatoes. We ate, were happy, but missed our Mother who was in the sanatorium. She missed two Christmases, we too, missed them, but more we missed her.

As life went on Christmas maintained its intrigue, and became even more special. Our personal family, Dorothy’s and mine, enjoyed the benefit of four grandparents for many years and the presence of those parents, in town created an atmosphere of peace and blessing, for us and our growing family. Weight gain and happiness were predictable. Other events were also predictable.

Accidents, deliveries, and hospital calls never ceased over the holidays, and many meals were interrupted or missed over the years. Somehow I noted the care rendered was with more empathy and caring when the intercom of the hospital played Christmas Carols. Everyone seemed more caring, even if we were missing Christmas dinner and present opening. I recall a few tragedies of the Christmas season. The greatest was of a stillborn infant boy to a very young couple; a couple without family, and without resources. They were heartbroken. When their plight was made known to the nursing staff, gifts were found, monies were given, food was provided and some dignity and hope was restored to the young husband and wife. They never forgot, and we all profited.

And so at this time it is and has been a privilege to participate in the Hartford Christmas committee for all these years. It is gratifying to see so many concerned generous people in the city and township. But, then, isn’t it to be expected, after all, it is Hartford.

Jim