Roger's Christmas Surprise (1935)

Historical Note: My dad, Roger, grew up on a farm in Metamora, Michigan. I’m glad he told stories about his childhood. I wish I would have asked him to tell more before he passed. Though some of the details of this story are dramatized for interest, it is all based on the actual events. 

Back when Roger was a little boy, growing up on the farm in Metamora, Michigan, Christmas was celebrated a lot differently than it is now. 

First was the Christmas Tree. They had trees back then, but most people didn’t put the Christmas Tree up until Christmas Eve. For another thing, this was during the Depression—a time when a lot of people were out of work and most people didn’t have a lot of money. My Grandpa did have work back and they had plenty of food (they lived on a farm). But since they didn’t have much money they couldn’t buy many Christmas presents.

The year was 1935, Little Roger was five years old, and it was Christmas Eve—the day before Christmas. But Roger was very sad. You see, he had the flu. His stomach hurt, his throat hurt, and he hadn’t been able to eat anything for days. He felt really tired most of the time and kind of grumpy.

All he could do was sit in a chair and look out the window and watch the giant fluffy snow flakes float past. There was no TV in those days. No videos. Most people didn’t have record players and the only time people listened to the radio was for the news at night. Roger’s Mother was so busy in the kitchen she had no time to read to him. It was a very boring time for him.

All morning, Roger stared out the window. He started feeling just better enough that he was getting restless. He watched his brother and sister, Bob and Ruth, as they came across the yard. Bob was dressed in his winter parka, a scarf around his face and heavy wool mittens. Ruth also. Bob was coming in from the barn where he had fed the sheep, given them water and cleaned out their pens. Ruth had the little egg basket in her hand—she was coming from the henhouse. Just then Roger saw something that made him smile. Unseen by Ruth, Bob was picking up a bunch of snow and started making it into a snowball. Roger grinned even more: Bob was winding up and getting ready to throw it at Ruth! 

Just as Ruth came to the back door of the house and opened it up, Bob let the snowball fly. Roger heard a high pitched scream as Ruth felt the cold flakes dripping in her face. Bob laughed and laughed. Ruth didn’t think it was funny and slammed the door, locking it mischievously so Bob couldn’t get in. Bob started pounding on the back door and shouting, “Let me in! Hey someone, let me in!” Ruth shed her coat, mitten and gloves by the woodstove and ran up stairs to her room with a pouty look on her face. She was not amused.

But Roger was and he was so glad for the diversion; at least while it lasted. And next thing you know, Mother had unlocked the door, letting Bob in, and was sputtering about having so much to do to be interrupted by foolishness. Bob grinned as he came in and warmed himself by the fire. He loved to yell at his sister.

The rest of the afternoon, Roger continued his window vigil. 

The snow was coming down even harder now. He tried to play a little game to see if he could count the snowflakes in the air. Of course, he couldn’t count very high—he was only five—so he tried a different game: he would try to watch as the large flake touched the ground to see how it disappeared into the other flakes. 

That’s how little kids played back then. They did a lot of watching and not a lot of talking—especially when they were sick.

Sometime in the middle of the afternoon, Bob came into the living room where Roger still sat by the window. He had a secret look on his face and he said, “Rog! I found something. Come with me!”

Dressed in a long nightgown like little boys wore back then, Roger followed his brother through the living room, down the back hall. Checking to see if Mother was still in the kitchen, seeing she wasn’t, they sneaked through the kitchen and onto the back porch. 

There, in the corner, atop the old bureau drawer, was a small package, wrapped in colorful paper. It was about as big as one of his dad’s boots and had a pretty red bow around it. 

“What is it?” Roger whispered. 

“It’s a silly Christmas present!” Bob whispered back. 

“Wow! Who’s it for?”

“Can’t you see? Look!” and Bob pointed to the name tag. 

Roger looked sad. “But I can’t read!” he said.

Bob read it in a hoarse whisper, “It says, Merry Christmas to Bob and Roger”. 

Roger could hardly keep quiet. He began to jump up and down with glee. He even started to squeal while clapping his hands”, until his throat started to tickle and he began coughing. 

Bob said, “Shhh! Mother will hear”. And together they sneaked off the porch and back to the living room.

“What do you think it is?” Roger asked, his eyes larger than silver dollars. 

“I don’t know”, Bob said. 

Now, remember I said that Christmas was celebrated a lot differently back in your Grandpa’s childhood days. For one thing, they didn’t get many presents back then. Although Bob remembered getting presents the year before—he was almost ten and seemed very grownup, to Roger anyway—Roger didn’t remember last year and didn’t remember getting any presents before. He probably did but he was too young to remember. Even Bob was excited, however, because Mother and Dad didn’t just buy them things like yours do. If they ever went to the store in Metamora it was to buy some groceries not to buy toys or playthings. Sometimes they would go months and months before they got anything new. That’s how things were then.

At least Roger had something exciting to think about now! And after a while he had an idea. Maybe he would sneak out to the back porch again, just to take a look at that present. Mother would not be pleased if she found him on the cold porch, but he would do it quickly. She would never know.

He crept quietly down the hall, looking around the corner and into the kitchen as he had seen Ruth and Bob do before. His little heart pounded faster and faster. It felt naughty but it felt kind of fun too. 

He saw Mother’s back. She was busy washing some dishes and didn’t turn around for some time. A pot of soup was bubbling and gurgling on the stove. Taking a deep breath, Roger scooted through the kitchen and into the back porch, watching Mother the whole time out of the corner of his eye. She never turned around once!

He dashed out onto the porch and to the corner bureau where the package still sat. It looked even more exciting than last time! This time he decided to feel it—he had been afraid to before. What could it be, he wondered? 

Just then, he heard the back door open with a squeak. 

Roger panicked! The first thing he thought was Dad was coming! Oh no!

Roger didn’t know whether to hide in the corner or to run back through the kitchen. So he didn’t do anything. He just froze and watched. The door opened and there was a mitten, and attached to the mitten was his sister Ruth. 

“Roger James Rose! What are you doing back here?” she said it with that tone of voice that always made him feel bad. “Does Mother know—“

Roger wanted to tell her to be quiet, but just then, Mother stuck her head out onto the porch, a dish towel and cast iron pan in her hand. 

“Roger! What are you doing here in the cold? Why, you’ll catch your death of cold! Are you back on fire now? For land’s sake, what were you thinking…” Roger obediently pranced through the kitchen and back to his chair by the window. Now he had more to think about! 

But it was many hours until he would get to open that present. To a five year old, it seemed like forever…

Afternoon turned into night and night to morning. And before he knew it, Roger heard the excited tramping of feet coming down from the second floor, and the eager shrieks of Bob and Ruth as they yelled, “It’s Christmas!” 

In their family, they always began by opening their stockings. Roger’s dad pulled them down from the shelf one by one and handed each one a stocking. 

There was one for Roger, one for Ruth and one for Bob. Dad and Mother smiled as each child gleefully pulled first one treat then another out of the stocking. There was a big Christmas orange—the biggest Roger had ever seen. And there was also a piece of candy—a candy cane I think it was, red and white and wrapped in cellophane. As he reached deeper into the stocking, he also found something else: a bright shiny dime. Roger squealed with delight. He had never owned so much: an orange, candy, ten cents! He felt like the richest boy in town. Things were a lot different back then, weren’t they? Imagine, getting an orange, a candy cane and a dime and feeling so happy about it! Well, we have to remember that things were a lot different back then and people learned how to be content with what they had. Most folks didn’t expect to get more and more new things.

The Rose children began to talk about what they would do with their money. Ruth talked about some fancy hair combs like her friends at school had. She wondered if they had any at the general store in Metamora? Bob wanted to buy a real candy bar. Roger didn’t know what a candy bar was, but knowing that Bob wanted one made him want to buy one too. Mother and Dad smiled more that morning than they had in a long long time. 

As the children prattled on and on, they didn’t notice but Mother had quietly left the living room and was gone for several minutes. Roger noticed it first. “Where’s Mother?” he asked. 

Just then she returned. And in her hand something they had nearly forgotten about in all the excitement. The mysterious present!

“It looks like there’s something else here”, Mother began reading. “IT says, to Bob and Roger Rose. I guess this is for you boys.” 

Never in their young lives had the boys experienced such a reverential moment. They grew quiet—almost like in church. They both stood to their feet and reached out their hands to receive the colorfully wrapped present with the big red bow. Carefully, almost like they were afraid it would break, they lowered it to the floor and each boy began to gently pull off the ribbon, then the paper. 

What was it?

Once the paper was removed, they realized there was a simple cardboard box. Whatever the mystery, it was in a box!

Bob, being the older of the two, decided that this was a job for someone older: “Here, I’ll do it,” he said as he began ripping open the box. 

Roger stared in wide-eyed wonder. For there, in Bob’s hands, was something he had never imagined they would own. He had seen boys playing with them in town before and remembered asking Bob what it was. 

Bob shrieked: “A football! A leather football. Our very own football!” he was so excited. Roger didn’t know much about football but he knew that it must be good if Bob was so excited.

Within days, after he had recovered from his illness, Roger and Bob spent hour after hour in the backyard, tossing the football back and forth. Bob taught Roger how to throw it, how to catch it and even how to hike it. 

We can only wish that there were movie cameras in those days, or videos, to capture the sight of the little five year old boy bundled up in scarf, cap and mittens, listening eagerly with a serious determination in his eyes, and his big brother of nine. Roger, trying to do exactly what Bob said. I’m sure there would be something timeless and eerie about the scene. For we could fast forward it forty years and find a similar scene with Roger’s own two sons. The clothes would be a bit different and the background changed, but the looks on their faces would be the same: a five year old little brother trying desperately hard to please his big brother. And not always being successful. 

And then, another fast forward click, and another forty years, and we would see another house, different clothes yet, and another two boys. Roger's sons also had sons and in the same way, older big brothers would try to teach their younger brothers how to “do it right”.

Roger didn’t do it right most of the time and Bob was quick to correct him. Neither did Roger’s son Jim’s little brother Philip. Neither did Jim’s son’s little brothers, nor their sons, nor theirs.  But they kept trying. For that’s what little brothers do. They try so hard to do it right, to bring a smile to their big brother’s face. 

It's good Roger did. For you see, it wasn’t long after that—a couple years—and Roger didn’t have a big brother any more.  Great Uncle Bob was killed in a tragic bicycle accident: hit by a car. And forever their life was changed. Christmas was never the same in Metamora. Great Grandpa and Great Grandma Rose never quite recovered from it. Roger doesn’t have many memories of Bob to recall at Christmas time. But he does remember one: the Christmas football. I wonder what happened to it?