A Christmas Story
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