It
was in 1928 when we’d moved from Brooklyn to a larger apartment “way out” in Floral Park on Long Island, just outside the New York City line. The move was necessitated because of the recent unexpected arrival of a “bundle” from heaven: my littlest brother Allen. I was six and Jimmy was four.
Of course I’d let my parents know that I expected Santa Claus to bring me: practically everything I saw in the toy stores and Woolworth’s Five-and-Ten Cent store. So, I had great expectations on December twenty fourth--at last Santa’s coming. How many times I’d asked my mommy “When’s Santa Coming? I just can’t wait” I can’t tell.
We were finally put to bed and I listened intently to hear Santa Claus’s little reindeer feet prancing on our roof. But finally I must have drifted off to sleep.
However, I guess somewhere in the middle of the night, I woke up. I just couldn’t wait any longer. So, I put on my slippers and bathrobe and softly tiptoed down the hall into the living room.
Wow! There was the Christmas tree Santa always brought with him. Its ornaments sparkled in the little streams of light that came through our second-story front windows from the street lights. But, best of all there were the presents!
Then, when I looked them over, I realized that they were neatly divided--half on one side of the living room and half on the other side. I squinted as best I could to make out what I could see. Of course Santa had wrapped most of them up and tied them with ribbons. However, as I looked closely, I could just start to discover what some of the presents were. There was a lovely big sidewalk bike.
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So, I quickly decided that that side’s presents must be for me. Jimmy, only age four, was much too young to graduate up from his little tricycle for a big two-wheeled sidewalk bike. Boy was I thrilled! I’d longed to be like the other big boys in our neighborhood and now I too could coast down the long hill outside our house on Terrace Avenue.
But then, I looked at some of the other of my presents. There were several flat boxes. These I quickly concluded were clothes: sweaters, shirts, pants: that sort of stuff. I’d certainly not asked Santa for any of that stuff. I wanted just toys.
Then, I looked over at Jimmy’s pile. (Of course Al, being still a baby didn’t have a pile. Santa probably left a wrapped up toy rattle in his high crib.) It was hard to make out Jimmy’s presents. But then, I spied something interesting: it looked like a pistol, holster and leather belt set. Well, I quickly decided Santa had made a mistake there. Jimmy was definitely, I decided, too young for such grown-up things. So, purely in a spirit of helpfulness, I decided to correct Santa’s mistake. I just moved Jimmy’s pistol set over to my side of the room and then carried a box (which I’m sure contained some sort of clothing) over to Jimmy’s side. There! Santa will be pleased I’ve helped him so.
Of course, on closer comparison I determined that Santa had made several other serious mistakes too: so I helped him out again and again. Then, sure that Santa would be pleased, I tip-toed back to bed.
The next day: Christmas Day, I sprang out of bed, rushed into the living room, saw the presents in the daylight and then rushed into Mommy and Daddy’s bedroom. I jumped up on their bed and yelled, “Mommy! Daddy! Santa’s been here. Come look.” (I just somehow “forgot” to get Jimmy up.)
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Mommy and Daddy slowly rubbed the sleep out of their eyes and put on their bathrobes. They followed me into the living room. But then, the strangest thing happened! Instead of being glad that Santa had been there, they both got very deep frowns on their faces. They said, ‘Billy! What’s going on here?' I was completely surprised that they knew about my helping Santa. But then, in the face of their continuing frowns, I confessed, “Well, I thought Santa had made some mistakes--you know--unloading all his toys in the dark at night. So I helped him out--a little bit.”
The frowns continued and then Mommy and Daddy said, “Well, Billy, it just so happens that Santa dropped his Christmas gift list on the floor of our bedroom before he left. And what we see here isn’t what Santa intended to give each of you boys.”
I was amazed! Santa so careless? Him a litterbug? But what could I say? So, Mommy and Daddy then rearranged everything just the way I’d found it in the middle of the night. I got some toys and some clothing. And, instead of Jimmy getting just nice clothing, he got some of my toys and some clothing.
Nuts! But, what could I say? Santa must have had his reasons for what he gave to who. Anyway, all in all, I didn’t make out too bad. But I really couldn’t figure out how Santa thought Jimmy could use some of that real good stuff that I’d wanted. Oh well. “There’ll be another Christmas next year.” my parents reassured me.
But--I just can’t wait that long!
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