The holiday seasons are here and going fast. Virgelle Christmas Sale was a blast. For me, the Virgelle Christmas weekend isn’t about what you buy; it’s about saying high. I get to greet all and hand out a little cheer in the snack nook. Friends old and new to meet. This is a great time to laugh, swap a recipe or two, and tell stories of the past. Everyone is excited because of the warm feeling in the air talking, and laughing with care.
Virgelle Mercantile’s Christmas sale is my trigger to start my holiday decorating. Driving into my yard with Christmas lights up is my little joy. When I see the bright twinkling lights, my spirit calms, smiles, and relaxes. I let out a deep breath, smile, and know all is right in my little world.
As a child, I was taught the meaning of Christmas, but it is easy to forget when the excitement of writing Santa letters asking for everything you could think of wanting. In my house, when dad would start bundling his fox, coyote, bobcat, and mink hides, we would know he was going to Great Falls to the fur dealers to sell his wares. Mom and dad then did their Christmas shopping. When mom and dad got home, we unloaded the groceries from the back of the car, but no presents.
This year I had asked for a pink pair of boots and matching hat set. I so wanted them! My little brain worked out that all the presents were in the trunk of the car. I devised a plan! I am always the first up in the morning, so I will go out and peek. I took the keys from the ignition and opened the trunk sneakily. OH MY! What did I see! The back of the car was brimming with everything I wanted. Greed at this time was taking over a little. I was thinking in my head, I am getting that, and that, and that. This is the best Christmas ever! Here are my purple boots. I quietly closed the trunk grinning from ear to ear, just like the Cheshire cat, who drank all the milk. I knew in a couple of days I was going to be the happiest girl ever.
In our house, the tradition was to open the presents on Christmas Eve. We always had to wait until it was past 9 PM. By this time, there were midnight black skies. We would watch home videos or sing with old vinyl records to pass the time. When you had eight children and two adults in a four-room house, all keyed up with excitement you had to do something. Most of the time, us kids would be outside playing tag, hiding seek, or going into the crawl space in the pitch-black belly of the ferry, and scare the bejeebus out of each other. Mom would call us all into the house at about 9 o’clock, and we would try to contain ourselves. We did this with stories about family members passed down through the generations. I liked the ones my dad and mom told about dad when he was as a toddler sitting and having coffee every morning with the great grandparents and the silly things he did. They immigrated from Poland to Canada, then to Minnesota. These are still some of my favorites.
Wait! Sh! Everyone be quiet! We could hear faint bells ringing. We would listen to them, getting closer and closer. There behind the house, Then Santa Clause starts to HO! HO! HO! We are so excited kids moving everywhere in our tiny house. Some of us younger ones are a little scared, and under the table, we dash. The door opens, and Santa walks into the kitchen. Standing room only with so many eyes appearing up in amazement and wonder at this big man in red.
Mom asked Santa to sit down at the kitchen table, so we all gathered closer. Some of us still under the table. What’s the matter? Mom gives Santa a cup of coffee. We were amazed! Santa drank coffee just like everyone who visits us. My older sisters and brothers were brave and sat on Jolly Old ST. Nick’s lap. As he conversed with each of them, calling them by name and telling a story about whoever was on his lap. We were in awe. Santa really did know if you were naughty or nice. He handed a candy cane to each sibling who sat on his lap, so out from under the table I came, my fear is gone, I wanted a candy cane.
In those days, the candy canes seemed much more significant than today, might have been just a young girl’s eyes back then. After greeting all of us, he would wish us a Merry Christmas to all and leave using the front door. We all had to stay where we were until we heard the bells receding. This was the signal for us to gather around the Christmas tree in the living room/bedroom. Joy and excitement were coming from every corner of the house. This was the Christmas I was getting everything I wanted! In our house, the younger girls who could read would hand out the presents. So, all the gifts were distributed out to its new owner. My sister opens her present, and it was the hat set. I thought I was getting. My smile dropped a little. Then my little sister opens the next gift, and it was the doll I thought I was getting. My chest dropped some more. This went on for several more siblings before my turn. My turn! The excitement was coming back. I ripped opened my gift, shedding the paper, jerking the box open to find the purple plastic rain boots. My smile came back.
The next day my sisters and brothers took our cousins and new sleds to the hills about ¼ mile away from the house so that we could fly without much effort. I wore my new purple rain boots. Mom told me not, too, because it was too cold out. I said, “Mom, I am fine! I have socks on, and I have Wonder Bread bags over my socks.” Not heeding her advice, I took off to the hills with everyone else. I was only seven at this time.
About an hour of playing on the hillside, I was cold. I started to run home. I was so cold I was crying. I ran and ran. Then one of my new boots slipped off. I couldn’t see it, and I didn’t have far to go, so I kept running. When I got home, I was crying uncontrollably with the freezing pain in my feet and hands. My mom got the wet clothes off me and put me in snuggly warm clothes. The pain in my foot would not quit. As she feared, my foot was frozen. In those days, you thawed it slowly in ice water. Mom would put my foot in, and I would scream with pain. Out my foot would come, and in a minute or two, my mother would put it back in. I would cry again from the excruciating pain. I would jerk my foot out again. This went on for what seemed forever. I don’t know if my mom wore out by my screaming from pain, or she thought the torcher was enough, but she wrapped me up in blankets and put me in her bed to rest and sleep. My foot peeled layers and layers of skin off after the pain subsided. It was very sensitive too cold for many years to come. Oh, my siblings picked my purple boot up on their way home. I had summer rain boots, not winter boots.
Many years later, we would be telling the stories waiting for Santa. But this year Santa didn’t arrive in person. We were told that he was visiting other little children in a far-off place. Eventually, we learned that our neighbor Ron Holland was Santa. He stopped being our Santa when they moved to town; I hope he made other children as happy as he made the Virgelle Valley Children.
I learned fundamental lessons that year. I will never snoop at Christmas time because it may not be what you imagined, and disappointment sets in your heart. Christmas is about love, family, and joy, not what’s inside of the beautifully wrapped package. I listen to the advice of my elders more closely, because not listening to my mom caused excruciating pain for a long time.
Years later, I learned in First Aid Class during Helen Maxwell’s Home Economics class that they changed the method of thawing out frozen limbs to use warm water.
Merry Christmas to all. Enjoy your families, and enjoy the good times. Remember bringing joy and comfort to others, in a small or large way, is what each day is about. Sometimes it can be just a smile or kind word like, “Nice seeing you.”
