Discussion in 'VMBB General Discussion' started by rooter, Nov 29, 2006.

  1. rooter

    rooter *VMBB Senior Chief Of Staff* Supporting Member

    Jan 31, 2001
    Glendale Arizona
    I remember my first Christmas adventure with Grandma. I was just a kid. I remember tearing across town on my bike to visit her on the day my big sister dropped the bomb: There is no Santa Claus," she jeered. "Even dummies know that!"

    My Grandma was not the gushy kind, never had been. I fled to her that day because I knew she would be straight with me. I knew Grandma always told the truth, and I knew that the truth always went down a whole lot easier when swallowed with one of her "world-famous" cinnamon buns.

    I knew they were world-famous, because Grandma said so. It had to be true. Grandma was home, and the buns were still warm. Between bites, I told her everything. She was ready for me. "No Santa Claus?" she snorted. "Ridiculous! Don't believe it. That rumor has been going around for years, and it makes me mad, plain mad. Now, put on your coat, and let's go." "Go? Go where, Grandma?" I asked I hadn't even finished my second world-famous cinnamon bun. "Where" turned out to be Kerby's General Store, the one store in town that had a little bit of just about everything. As we walked through it's doors, Grandma handed me ten dollars. That was a bundle in those days. "Take this money," she said, "and buy something for someone who needs >it. I'll wait for you in the car." Then she turned and walked out of Kerby's. I was only eight years old. I'd often gone shopping with my mother, but never had I shopped for anything all by myself. The store seemed big and crowded, full of people scrambling to finish their Christmas shopping. For a few moments I just stood there, confused, clutching that ten-dollar bill, wondering what to buy, and who on earth to buy it for. I thought of everybody I knew: my family, my friends, my neighbors, the kids at school, and the people who went to my church.

    I was just about thought out, when I suddenly thought of Bobby Decker. He was a kid with bad breath and messy hair, and he sat right behind me in Mrs. Pollock's grade-two class. Bobby Decker didn't have a coat. I knew that because he never went out to recess during the winter. His mother always wrote a note, telling the teacher that he had a cough, but we all knew that Bobby Decker didn't have a cough; he had no coat. I fingered the ten-dollar bill with growing excitement. I would buy Bobby Decker a coat! I settled on a red corduroy one that had a hood to it. It looked real warm, and he would like that. Is this a Christmas present for someone?" the lady behind the counter asked kindly, as I laid my ten dollars down. Yes, ma'am," I replied shyly. "It's for Bobby." The nice lady smiled at me. I didn't get any change, but she put the coat in a bag and wished me a Merry Christmas. That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat in Christmas paper and ribbons, (a little tag fell out of the coat, and Grandma tucked it in her Bible) and to write, "To Bobby, From Santa Claus" on it. Grandma said that Santa always insisted on secrecy. Then she drove me over to Bobby Decker's house, explaining as we went that I was now and forever officially one of Santa's helpers. Grandma parked down the street from Bobby's house, and she and I crept noiselessly and hid in the bushes by his front walk. Then Grandma gave me a nudge. "All right, Santa Claus," she whispered, "get going." I took a deep breath, dashed for his front door, threw the present down on his step, pounded his doorbell and flew back to the safety of the bushes and Grandma. Together we waited breathlessly in the darkness for the front door to open. Finally it did, and there stood Bobby. Fifty years haven't dimmed the thrill of those moments spent shivering, beside my Grandma, in Bobby Decker's bushes. That night, I realized that those awful rumors about Santa Claus were just what Grandma said; they were: ridiculous. Santa was alive and well, and we were on his team. I still have the Bible, with the tag tucked inside: $19.95.

    I like stories such as this and thought perhaps you may enjoy it also. Chief
  2. Marlin

    Marlin *TFF Admin Staff Chief Counselor*

    Terrific memory, Chief.

    Grandmas are always so wise, aren't they ?????? :) :)

  3. Nighthawk

    Nighthawk New Member

    Aug 22, 2006
    South Central Texas
    that was good brought tears of joy, THANKS
  4. berto64

    berto64 Active Member

    Hope ya don't mind, Wilborn but I shared that with a whole mess of folks.

    I thought it was grand! The lady reminds me of my own Grandmother.
  5. SouthernMoss

    SouthernMoss *Admin Tech Staff*

    Jan 1, 2003
    SW MS
    That's a wonderful story!
  6. rooter

    rooter *VMBB Senior Chief Of Staff* Supporting Member

    Jan 31, 2001
    Glendale Arizona
    I had cleaned up all the addresses on the list and mailed it around plus posting it here on the site.....Even though I would like to claim the story, I cannot---didn't mean to mislead anyone but I too thought it was a marvelous story for the season....The best I can do is to tell you my own story about the cherry center chocolates. Chief

    More than half a century ago, there in the true Heartland of America, things were not all what they seemed. To people of other countries around the world, the Americans were all wealthy and prosperous---the "yellow brick road" remembered from THE WIZARD OF OZ, was indeed a road of gold in their minds. Small farming communities scattered around in northeast Iowa, would certainly qualify by todays standards as being poor and needy. Oh sure, there was always plenty to eat---fresh meat on the fare every meal---good canned garden items for the long winter months. Money was scarce--very scarce. Cream was sold at a co-operative dairy processor at the Chicago listed prices and eggs sold in town on Saturday for the going prices so that was the money the farmers had. In the schools, at Christmas time, the celebrations was what could be afforded---the school I attended had 12 grades but less than 200 students and at Christmas time our classes would exchange names drawn out of a hat and then buy that person a gift. The carved-in-stone amount that could be spent on a gift was set a $.50 or less---. It sure didn't give one much of a choice of things to select for a gift. The local grocer in town really stocked up on items to meet that requirement---the favorite being one pound boxes of cherry centered chocolates---- you know, those syrupy, sticky, sweet things that if it's cold you can crack the thick chocolate covering off in big pieces and get that syrup all over your fingers. Chances are, most of the kids hadn't had a Cherry Centered Chocolate since the box they had rec'd the previous year as a gift---they remembered that technique of biteing the chocolate in to and holding it so it didn't drip. You didn't want to carry that box everywhere you went so you'd put some of those delights in your pocket---the warmth of you hot little body would melt the damn things and when you'd decide to partake of another, it would be soft and mixed with pocket lint, sand, or whatever was in your pocket. It didn't take long before the classrooms smelled like chocolate, the hallways, your fingers, your breath!!! Even the old Dodge schoolbus, vintage 1937, that usually had the odor or a cowbarn or a horseshed, took on the delightful aroma of sweet, cherry centered chocolates---that is until one of the youngsters who had really gorged themselves on those oversweet morsels, decided to up-chuck---to barf---!!! Amazing thing with barf, when you been eating cherry centered chocolates---maybe not having been chewed well in a hurry to get more---it's red and lumpy---looks like the subject has really puked their gutts out---looks very much like chicken parts you feed the cats. Many days late,r after Christmas is over, you may crave the smell and taste of those Christmas delights---that old jacket you were wearing that day when those sweets melted into it's lining---just turn that old pocket inside out and sniff that delightful aroma---just made you almost swoon with the recollection, and you pondered how soon the next Christmas would come. Wilborn
  7. absolutely great Rooter..

    these are the things and words that sustain us through this journey called life.

    they make the way though it smoother and gentler.

    and it seems to me that grandmothers have a larger hand in the memories and actions of our youth. Mothers don’t see to rise to the occasion as much until they grow into grandmothers.

    It also amazes me that many of us here seem to have very many of the same sort of memories.

    thanks for sharing.

    the day seems a bit more bright

    (remind me sometime to relate on the box of chocolate coveed cherries that my grandmother sent to me)

  8. rooter

    rooter *VMBB Senior Chief Of Staff* Supporting Member

    Jan 31, 2001
    Glendale Arizona
    Always great to see you on board, Mith....Hope you are well, healthy, and prosperous...Enjoy the season and say some words for the troops in the field---ya gott'a remember how sad those songs made you when you were out of the world...Chief
  9. ShadowHunt

    ShadowHunt New Member

    Nov 19, 2006
    Good 'ol Xmas Stories, almost as good as a good 'ol huntin story.
  10. JD

    JD *VMBB Admin*

    Jan 31, 2001
    Great stuff, JW!
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