The Best Christmas Ever!
Gene Autry's new hit record about a red nosed reindeer was blasting through the loudspeakers mounted on either side of Swenson's showroom windows, as Billy Sanford gazed in awe at the object of his dreams. The war was over and manufacturing companies were slowly getting back on line, including Schwinn, the maker of the shining red and white speedster in the window. A Schwinn was not just a bicycle...it was the only bicycle in the eyes of a small boy like Billy.
True, Billy already had a bike, if it could be called that. It had once belonged to his Uncle Jack, who was the dare-devil of the family, and his old bike showed it. Most of the paint had been scraped off in various collisions and falls, and the handlebars were bent, one side up and the other side out. The tires had no real tread, and the cords were readily visible. The inner tubes were now more patches than rubber, but Billy used it daily on his paper route, ignoring the wobbling of the bent rims.
Western Auto, Sears Roebuck, and Montgomery Ward all had their own, cheaper brands, but the crown glory of bicycles was a genuine Schwinn Hornet, with a battery powered, push-button horn mounted in the tank, and it was now mere inches away from Billy's admiring eyes.
"Looks like a well made bicycle, Billy, but that J.C.Higgins model that Sears sells is somewhat less expensive." His father removed his pipe and glanced down at his son. "But maybe you could save up your paper route money and buy this one if you have your heart set on it."
Billy studied his father's poker face, but could detect nothing. Still, if he had no intention of getting him the Schwinn, he probably would have said nothing at all. Billy's dad was a Christmas enthusiast and devotee, merrily making the most of it every year. He had been wounded on OmahaBeach, so he counted every day as a gift, especially Christmas. Uncle Jack was a Marine and he had been awarded a Silver Star for heroism on Okinawa. He came home without a visible scratch, but was deeply wounded, nonetheless.
In any case, there was always Santa, although Billy now had his suspicions. Several of the packages from Santa last year had been wrapped in paper he had seen his mother buy. As a result, Billy had some doubts, but it would not pay to take chances, so Billy had visited the great, bearded one last week, painstakingly describing the Schwinn to a tee.
Uncle Jack and Aunt Millie came over for Christmas Eve and made a big announcement...Billy and his little brother David were going to have a cousin...their first! Billy had some idea of how that came to be from third grade scuttlebutt, but David was clearly confused.
The adults had a glass of red wine, and the boys had milk. Billy had sneaked a taste of his mother's wine one time, and couldn't understand why anyone would drink such awful stuff when they didn't have to! A few minutes later, their mother warned them that Santa does not stop at homes where children are awake, so they kissed everyone and went to bed.
Billy had made up his mind that this year, he was going to stay up and see for himself about Santa, so he closed his eyes and merely pretended to be asleep, determined to stay awake. Five minutes later, the first small snore announced his failure.
‘Billy!”
He sat bolt upright in bed, his eyes rapidly blinking away the cobwebs of sleep. At the far end of his bed stood his David, with an accusing scowl on his face.
”Oh my gosh! It's Christmas morning and I’m still in bed!”
Billy jumped up and scrambled down the stairs, pausing on the landing to stare down at the tree. There it was! Santa had brought his new Schwinn Hornet, and it was exactly the one he had picked out! Even the color was right…two tone fire-engine red and white! His heart was pounding as he ran the rest of the way down the stairs, oblivious to his mother's cries of caution.
They gathered at the tree, holding hands as a family while his father said a brief prayer. Then the present opening frenzy began in earnest, but Billy had eyes only for the bike. He ran his hands over it lovingly as his father grinned.
It was a magnificent collection of gleaming chrome and enamel glory, calculated to make an eight year old boy’s heart fairly ache with joy. He absentmindedly opened other presents, but his eyes kept returning to the bike.
Finally the last present was unwrapped and Billy made his move. “Mom? Can I go for a ride?”
Mrs. Sanford hated it when Billy left on his paper route, because she was a typical worrying mother. Stories of boys having bicycle accidents haunted her, and she tried not to be the type of mother who stifled her son's life, but Billy knew she lived in fear, so he did not push it.
She looked to her husband who nodded quietly. She sighed and shrugged her shoulders in resignation. “Oh, I suppose it’ll be OK, but just around the block!” Billy rushed up the stairs to get dressed.
“Now just around the block now, and don’t go in the street! Do you hear me?”
Billy waved his acknowledgment to his mother and got underway. The new tires whispered on the sidewalk and the wind began to build on his face. He peddled harder and then tried the brake. It stopped almost instantly, or as his father would say, “on a dime“. He tried the horn button , and was rewarded with a raspy honk. His heart soared. This was the best Christmas ever. He turned the corner and disappeared.
...
“Ralph? Will you check on Billy? He’s been gone for some time and dinner is almost ready.”
Ralph Sanford put down his paper and stretched sleepily. He walked to the front window and peered out on the lawn. No Billy. He looked up and down the street and saw nothing. He was about to put on his shoes and go looking for his son when he saw a small figure turn the far corner. It was Billy, but where was his bike? Alarmed, he grabbed his shoes and bolted out the door.
Ralph and Mary Sanford sat on the couch and stared at their oldest son. Ralph blinked and asked his son to repeat what he had just told them, slowly this time.
“Well, I was riding on the other side of the block when I saw Jimmy Davis sitting on his porch. Jimmy’s in my class you know.” He looked at his parents who nodded.
“Anyway, I showed him my new bike and we started talking about Christmas and what we got and stuff like that.” He paused, gathering his thoughts. “I guess Jimmy’s dad got laid off last fall and they don’t have much money, so Jimmy didn’t get anything for Christmas this year. Nothing at all.”
He glanced at his parents, his troubled eyes begging for understanding. “I got all kinds of neat stuff, so I got to thinking about how lucky I am." He glanced at his dad. "And my daddy came home from the war, when lots of dads didn't. Anyway, I thought about it, and I know I should have asked you first, but...well....I gave him my new Schwinn."
His lip trembled and tears welled in his eyes. "Are you mad at me?”
His mother slowly shook her head, absently dabbing at her eyes, “I don’t think I’ve ever been happier or more proud as a mother than I am at this moment. That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.” His father just nodded his head and studied his son with an all new respect. He rose and padded off to the kitchen, ruffling his son's hair as he passed
Roast turkey was Billy’s favorite food and today’s had been the best one ever. He sat sleepily on the couch watching David playing on the floor with his new Tinker Toys. He was about to drift off when his father sat beside him and nudged him gently with his elbow.
“Say, Billy, there’s an after-Christmas sale on bikes down at Swenson's tomorrow, and I was just thinking…why don’t we go down there and pick one out and you can work it off by doing some of the chores I usually do around here. Fact is, I think I saw another Schwinn Hornet there...a blue and white one. ” He got up and walked to the window, peering out at the street. A few lazy snow flakes drifted by silently.
“Seems to me that a boy who thinks about others like you did is grown up enough to do a man’s work now and then.” He turned and looked back at his son. Billy’s jaw dropped as he realized what his dad was proposing and he stared up at him.
“Deal Billy?” His father’s voice was oddly gruff.
Bill quickly regained his composure and nodded vigorously. “Sure Dad. Deal.”
Christmas music was softly playing in the living room when Billy glanced out the front window just in time to see a bundled-up Jimmy Davis flash by on his brand new Schwinn. Billy waved and smiled to himself. It was the best Christmas ever.
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