It was the winter of '61. I was 15 years old, not old enough to drive. I was
spending some time with my grandmother at her lake place during my time off from
school in Holly, Michigan. Grandpa had died that year and she lived alone. She
was 65 that year.
Grandma was the type that always reached out and gave to others and that
Christmas was no exception. I watched her knead dough, fire up the oven and my
mouth drooled as cake after cake came out of the oven, tarts, cookies,
cheesecakes, etc. I kept saying, "Who is all this food for gram?" "Oh, it's a
surprise." She replied.
It was Christmas Eve. A snowstorm had started earlier that morning and the snow
was piling up with a good 12 inches on the ground already. "Go get your heavy
coat, mittens and boots" she said. I pulled them out of the closet. "Now go in
the shed and drag the sled out." "The sled? What do I need the sled for?" I
ask"Hush, just do as I say." She replied. I went out in the old tattered shed
and dug the old wooden sled out, the same one my brother and I used to slide
down the big hill on. The same one when one day my cousins came to visit and we
piled 5 of us on the sled then slid down the hill and hit the tree. Two of us
always had crooked teeth after that!
When I got back inside the house, gram was packing goodies in boxes marking
names on the boxes. I knew then what she was up to. "You're going to deliver
this one to Mrs. Wermouth, and this one goes to Mr. Wayland, and this one goes
to the Snider family." On and one she went. We brought the sled into the house.
Gram tied those boxes with rope and told me I better get going as the snow was
getting deep. I thought she was nuts to send me out in that storm. But I
went......and it was a day I shall never forget and haven't in all these years.
I pulled the sled down the country road and the first house was Mrs. Wermouth's.
Her husband had died a couple years before and she lived alone. I knocked on her
door, and when she answered, she smiled and said, "Well Sharon, Merry
Christmas!" "I've got something for you" I told her. I handed her the box and
told her to open it. I saw the tears in her eyes as she saw the homemade
goodies. "Sit down and let's share a cup of hot chocolate." She said. She had no
tree, she had no family, and I think gram's goody box was her only gift that
year. I got a big Christmas hug when I went to leave telling her I had a lot of
boxes to deliver before dark.
I pulled that old sled down the road to the next house. House to house. But
something happened that I didn't think about. People were calling others on the
phone telling them what I was doing. And at each house, I was greeted with
smiles, tears and hugs. It took me a few hours to deliver all those boxes. I
about froze to death! I drank more hot chocolate and ate more cookies and got
more hugs that year than any other in my whole life that night. But I also
learned the meaning of giving and what one box can do for an elderly person
living alone. I saw what it could do to a family who didn't have much. I saw
genuine caring people who appreciated it that an elderly woman down the road
took the time to remember them. I was so proud of my grandma that year.
Many years later after gram had passed on, I went back to the old place she once
lived in. Someone was living in the house. I sat in my car gazing at the old
shed which still stood, the old bunkhouse, and the big tree I used to love to
climb as a child. A man came out and asked if he could help me. I told him no, I
was just remembering some good times when I used to visit my grandma there. He
said, "Your name's not Sharon, is it?" "Yes, how did you know that?" I asked. He
told me lake folks often talked about Mrs. Woodward and her granddaughter
Sharon, who used to help others on the old country road. He asked me if I wanted
to come into the house but I declined. I knew it wasn't the same. I knew without
gram, it just wouldn't be as it once was. I thanked him for allowing me to sit
there remembering. He told me I was welcome anytime I ever wanted to visit.
I've never been back since that year. When I get a chance to go to Michigan, I
drive out to the cemetery, 10 miles from the old house. I have many happy
memories of that old place, but as each Christmas rolls around, I always
remember that one in '61. The year gifts from the heart meant more than one from
the pocketbook ever could..........
In memory of my wonderful grandmother
" Elma Marie Woodward 7-22-1896 ~ 3-20-1974"
By Sharon Bryant 1946@bellsouth.net
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