In my last post I recalled my mother's favorite Christmas.   I'll now focus on possibly Mom's least enjoyed Christmas.  It's the story about meeting 2 very odd characters on Christmas day  in downtown St. Louis.  Mom would have been just as amused as we were by these Christmas strangers, but she was back  home cooking dinner for 12.

In fact, Mom never met a stranger. Here's a cartoon my brother drew as a teenager, poking a bit of fun at Mom's habit of inviting just about anyone to our family gatherings.  In the drawing Mom is chatting with a fictitious grocer and bag boy who are happily attending my wedding.  Had Mom been able to join us on that Christmas afternoon when we met our drunken strangers, David would have had good cartoon material...Mom inviting "Bulldog" and "Tipsy" to our holiday meal.

It was a nice Christmas...a white one.  Our grandmother, Daw had been released from the hospital the day before.  The "kids" were all in town, filling the duplex with Christmas morning chaos.  But by afternoon, Mom was a bit frazzled.  There would be 12 for dinner (some extras this year) and the house was a mess.  Daw was resting after a fall that morning (caused by our boxer, Ted) and we still hadn't made our Christmas visit to Aunt Ruth's.  Mom was distracted by a painful shoulder ailment and some details over a real estate closing, but she insisted she could get the meal ready, if we would take the gifts to the nursing home.  "Just be home in time to help me lift the turkey from the oven."

We Escaped
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The gas station sat on a dreary street of abandoned buildings. (photo taken recently when searching for our memory spot) But we weren't the only ones with car trouble at the closed station.   There were some others who offered their bucket of water to cool the engine...which didn't help.

The area may have looked dead, but we actually had a choice of  2 corner bars to enjoy some holiday cheer while we waited for AAA.  None of us can remember  the bar's name, but it looked kind of like this.   We ended up choosing the nicer of the 2, even though Don recognized the building from a recent news clip about a bar bombing.

The interior wasn't nearly as bright or orderly as this internet photo, but we wouldn't have dared taking photos even if we'd had a camera.  I remember 1 bartender and 8 slumping customers looking up when our nicely dressed group of 5 walked in.  All eyes were upon us until someone in our group answered the silent question with,  "Our car broke down."  The customers seemed satisfied and turned back to their drinks.
We called AAA and were told it would be a long wait, so we ordered some beers. We gathered some strength then made the dreaded call to Mom... to give her the news of our hold up.

Luckily there was a pool table and some video games for distraction.  I faked interest in Pac-man, to avoid stranger interaction, (I was less brave then) while sneaking peeks at the dismal surroundings.  I recall lots of faded Christmas decorations that clearly stayed on display year round.  There were girly calendars and half-lit neon signs.  I only sipped at my beer to avoid hunting for a ladies room. 

At the bar, there was one particularly weathered character doing most of the talking.  The bartender called him "Bulldog".   I strained to understand his slurred speech as he shared a bit of holiday wisdom with the few sitting nearby.  "You know, Christmas is the only day of the year you gotta have dignity."   I turned away, afraid I might laugh, then worried when he got up and wandered my way.  But he passed me by and headed for my brother and sister at the pool table, where he shared the same Christmas wisdom.  My younger brother Dave told Bulldog he agreed  100% with the dignity advice.  My sister Jennifer was always relaxed around a pool table and I was concerned she might just laugh in Bulldog's face when he gazed into her eyes and murmured,  "You know, you are as pretty as can be."

The tow truck finally arrived and the driver argued about payment since the car's owner (AAA member) wasn't with us.  My older brother, Chris who had just passed DC bar exam, argued well and even talked himself into getting a ride with the driver and his wife up in the cab. 

We were finally able to reach Don's Dad who came to pick up the rest of our gang and drive us to the repair shop to meet Chris.  While we nibbled on Fritos from a vending machine and answered calls from Mom (she had the shop's number, now) we heard some details about Chris' ride in the tow truck. Evidently the driver and his wife were "celebrating Christmas" on the job.  The first thing he told Chris was "You can ride up here, but keep your hands off my wife."   Then as they headed up the ramp to I-55, the feisty driver offered Chris a swig from an open champagne bottle and asked,  "Ever gone 90 while towing a car!"   We're lucky Chris ever made it to Christmas dinner.

Dinner Eventually
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But here is a picture of  the kids who went to visit him on a December morning in 1983  I only remember 2 things about the magical Santa at the St. Louis department store.  One thing was the color of his skin.  The other is the reaction of the children when they saw him.

I recently visited St. Louis and saw the old Famous-Barr store decorated for Christmas. I remembered the big trip years ago when 60 children of University City Children's Day Care Center boarded a school bus and headed downtown for a Santa visit. 

Now the store is a Macy's, but the windows were decorated lavishly when it was Famous-Barr.   I'm sure the kids squealed and jammed up close to the glass to stare in before we headed inside the festive building.

I didn't count the other day, but there must be about 8 stories, which was a pretty thrilling sight for  the kids, since most  had  never visited a department store.  Most of these kids came from low income, stressed households with little time left over for Santa adventures.

The store opened in 1924...the first department store in the US with air conditioning!  These streamlined stainless steel and aluminum masterpieces were spectacular in their day.  It was hard to tell which was more thrilling to the kids, the idea of riding these big metal monsters or seeing Santa?

As we rode higher, the elevators changed to polished wood.  The kids grew giddier with anticipation.  The 8 teachers grew more stressed at how we would control them.  By the time we reached the Santaland floor, the children and teachers were jolted at the sight of masses of children, parents and teachers standing in long fidgety lines leading to 3 separate doorways. The sound of Christmas music could barely be heard over the roar of high pitched voices and crying babies and reprimanding adults. 

It took only a moment to see that one line was less than half the length of the others.  One teacher shoved through to investigate.  She came back with the news about the Santa in the middle room. "He's black."  She said.  We pondered only  a second before moving our children to the short line.   

I really don't know how long it took us to reach the door where the children could actually see the Santa sitting on his large chair with his white beard and dark skin.  It seemed forever as I fretted over how they might react.  After all, half our children were African American.  Should it matter?  But I also had witnessed both black and white students in my four year old classroom reject the dark skinned dolls and fight over the white.  And in 1983, there were very few cards and books that featured Santas with dark skin.  Would the children care?  I wasn't prepared for this "teachable moment".

Finally my class of 15 moved far enough forward to peer into the fantasy world of fake snow and glittery trees.  Their eyes moved directly to "Our Santa" perched high on a red throne.  I held my breath, then quickly determined their gasps were simply reactions to Santa... not Santa's skin.  "There he is!"  "Look, it's Santa!"  I don't remember specifics of each encounter.  I just know the children were in awe as each took a turn on Santa's lap.  

Faces
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Not one child, black or white gave a clue to suggest they believed this Santa wasn't the real  Santa.  I wish I had captured photos of all the expressions, but I think I was too  caught up in Santa's magic to think about the camera.

But if you look a the one photo I have and zoom in on one face and turn that expression up 10 notches...you'll get the idea.
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So Thank you, Santa!   I work with  kids and I know it can be a tough job.  And being a Santa must be about the  toughest!  I would have been nervous to be you, anticipating a few  comments  from a parent or even a child.  You are the most enchanting Santa I've  ever  encountered.  Maybe it was the big smile you greeted the kids with... or your  confidence. But it was clear, the only color that mattered to these children was the red of your suit!  Thank you for taking on your job with such enthusiasm.  I think of you and those children every year!