This past weekend I spent a wonderful day with my parents, sisters and their families. It had snowed the night before and it was a bit gloomy outside. The long car ride to their place in the world always gives me the opportunity for my generally scattered mind to wander a little farther than normal. A bit scary given that I am driving a car but I seem to be able to do these two things at once. I was enjoying wonderful holiday music by Mannheim Steamroller and thinking about the season, when I passed a huge sign that simply said… “What’s Your Christmas Wish?”
To almost everyone who either knows me or follows this blog, my answer is seemingly obvious. As quickly as I thought of my wish, I thought about why maybe that wasn’t really what my wish would or should be. I’ve wished for many things in my life. I have been blessed with the granting of many of those wishes. But what was granted wasn’t always what I thought I had wished for. Sometimes it was better. Sometimes it was very different but turned out to be what I should have wished for in the first place. And sometimes I received what I needed more, when the wish wasn’t granted.
As a kid, it was a fabulous day, that day, every December; when the mailman brought the big Sears “Wish Book”. My brother and sisters and I would get a pen or marker and start circling anything and everything we thought was wanted or needed from the back of the big catalog. The life sized dolls. The doll houses, the roller skates and on and on. There were fights about whose turn it was to view the book, who had it too long. My poor parents. As I think back, I never really remember ever getting anything from those wish books. I don’t know that my parents ever even went through the motions of pretending to take note of the items circled… but on Christmas morning, it didn’t matter. The gifts we were given were always more than we expected and in their own way, the gift we should have wished for. All my childhood Christmas morning memories are wonderful and cherished.
One year, I wished for a Dance-a-rina doll. I wished harder than I had ever wished before for the 3 foot, ballet dancing, toe shoe wearing, big bad hair like a 1st runner up in a Miss Alabama beauty pageant, doll. If you manipulated the plastic crown on her head, after inserting 12 D cell batteries in her back, she could twirl around on her toes. Very cool. She was the hot item that year, a sure sign I wasn’t getting her. I hinted, cut out magazine ads, annoyingly sang the jingle at every opportunity but knew my parents well enough to know the chances of that 3 foot blond bombshell being my gift were slim to none. But like Ralphie and his Red Ryder Carbine Action BB Gun, I just had to keep wishing. As the day got closer, nothing even remotely sized or shaped like Dance-a-rina had been brought into the house. I don’t remember if my excitement began to fade or my stress level rose as time began to run out. One evening, my mom asked me to run out to the car and get her cigarettes. Ok, it was the early 70’s, you sent your kids to get stuff like that and, hold on... kids were sent to get the parent’s drinks as well. I do owe the fact that I make one hell of a fine martini (3 olives please) to the misguidance of parents that didn’t believe asking an 8 year old to mix a cocktail may not be the best developmental or age appropriate task. Anyway, as I pushed open the screen door, Mom yelled that they were in the back seat… who the heck leaves their cigarettes in the back seat? Weirdo. As I looked in to the back, all I saw was a pile of dry cleaning, no cigarettes. I knew if I went back in to that house without those darn cigarettes, my mom would be very upset. So I jumped in the back and dove into the pile of dry cleaning. As I crashed in to the pile… I lost my breath. Could it, no wait, yes... This was it!!! My wish, it had come true! But wait, was I supposed to find this or was this cruel trick? For many years my parents hid a neighbor’s kid’s Hanukah gifts at our house… oh God please don’t let this be one of those years… but I’ll admit, I didn’t know if I should scoop up the box and run gleefully in or if I should wipe the smile off my face and casually saunter back in the house like my world had not just collided with a parallel universe in the back seat of a Ford Fairlane…. So I grabbed the box and although it looked different than the box on TV, it was my Dance-a-rina and she belonged in the house. My mom and dad were standing at the door as I brought her in. Funny but they didn’t have the look I had come to expect. Usually when they had busted their bottoms to get one of us something special, they had a glow, an excitement to their face. So why did they look downright scared? No time to worry about them. My Dance-a-rina needed to be unpacked, batteries inserted and she needed to dance. As I began the slow tender process of getting her out of the box, it dawned on me… why wasn’t anyone offering to help me? Why was everyone watching so intently as I struggled with the box? Once I got the box open, I understood. I understood the look on my parent’s face, the need for my brother and sisters to stand aside and the reason why the box was somewhat different than the one on the Saturday morning commercials. This Dance-a-rina was, as we said back then…. Black. The room was so very still as everyone watch for my reaction. Would I accept this as the Dance-a-rina I was meant to have or would some terrible prejudice enter in to my 10 year old world? As I yelled “she’s so beautiful” a collective sigh of relief went through the entire house. The back story is that my parents literally went to every conceivable store to get this doll. At one point they relied on information from a fellow Dance-a-rina hunter who had heard about a truck load of the doll coming to a certain store. My parents made the trek and once got there were thrilled to learn that yes they had the doll. Yes they had the doll but only in the African American version. I’m pretty proud that my parents had enough faith in me and wanted so desperately to fulfill my wish that while I’m sure they were nervous, they took the leap of faith and made the purchase.
When my late husband and I had our children, we did, as my parents had, try to do all possible to make their wishes come true. We worked more than one job, worked opposite shifts, went without. Was all this hard, you bet. But it was so worth all the long hours, sore feet, sleep deprivation and the lack of extra funds to produce the great people I proudly call my kids. My kids didn’t get all they wished for, I don’t think anyone should. But the wishes that were granted and those they weren’t, helped make them who they are today.
The holidays have always been a time of giving back for my family. As a kid we always worked on projects that had us helping our community. As an adult I have been blessed to take part in some amazingly huge wish granting programs. My previous career was with a major corporation and every year the company would grant wishes for children who were part of the DCFS system. I always dreaded the day when we received the lists from thousand of kids along with their wishes. We had to do some organizing of lists and set up how they would be distributed throughout the company. Employees would come and grab a stack of wish letters and read through them until they found the one they wanted to grant. I believe there was a two week turn time between getting the wish and returning the item or items for distribution. In all the years I was involved, we were so fortunate to grant an average of 5000 wishes each and every year. The wishes were for everything from underwear to bikes. How sad to make your one shot at a really big wish, be for underwear. Think of all the times your parents got you socks for Christmas, how did you feel? Did you ever really have to wish for a pair of tightie-whities? Sadly many kids wished for items for their mom or dad. Some even wished for food. I always loved that my kids actively participated in this event. I still get goose bumps thinking about the huge trucks being loaded with the mass quantities of gifts, wishes now fulfilled. DCFS never anticipated the care and compassion of my fellow employees. The generosity was overwhelming. If a kid asked for a bike… he got the Cadillac of bikes. We were always allotted one 18 wheeler… most years we had to hire an additional 3 or 4 trucks to take everything to the agency. The sense of pride that comes along with giving back is indescribable. In many ways, my family was not the norm in our wish granting or our desire to give back. We also gave of our time and talents as well. I always wondered why some believe that you can only give items or money to make a difference in this world. Your time has an amazing value, as do your talents. Until we moved back to this area we had always participated in a huge day of service held every June. Thousands of folks gathered together to join in and paint the schools in this major Midwest town. Some years our kids joined us, but most years it was just my husband and I. I’ll always remember quite fondly the year we realized this event would take place on our 25th wedding anniversary. We never considered not attending. What better way to celebrate our accomplishment then by assisting in the painting of over 200 schools. We agreed that this was our way of, together giving back. As I write this, I’m so fondly reminded of walking in to the classroom he was painting, I had been painting the hall. On the far wall in the most obnoxious pink paint was written… “I love you more this minute than ever before… I can’t wait to see how I feel in an hour, 25 years… piece of cake! Let’s go for 25 more”. I couldn’t wish for anything more…
So, what is my Christmas wish? Of course I wish you all whatever your heart most desires. I wish all the babies recently born into my world or those just about to introduce themselves, all the love they need, all the happiness they can hold and all the best of everything. My wish for the new parents is simple, breath, trust, love and laugh. I wish for my family and friends to know all that they mean to me. I wish them to know my love for them deepens every day. I wish for my wonderful son and daughter, peace in your heart and head. I wish that they know the depths of love that brought them into this world and I wish it sustains them going forward. I wish the world would understand the closeness of a wish and a prayer… I believe God answers prayers and that God uses people to grant wishes... I pray that God answers my prayers and will help me understand why I can’t have what I truly wish for… I believe when the time is right he will…
I hope so…
Merry Christmas…
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