Belles on Their Toes by Frank B. Gilbreth

Author:Frank B. Gilbreth [Gilbreth Jr., Frank B.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 978-1-4804-5708-9
Publisher: Open Road Media
Published: 2013-10-04T20:08:00+00:00

12. Ashtray Christmas

WE DIDN’T HAVE VERY much money to spend for Christmas, but it always was the most important day of the year in our house, and Mother intended to make it so again this year.

“I’d much rather have something you made especially for me, like a calendar or a desk blotter, than anything expensive from the store,” she told us. “The best present of all is something given with love and affection.”

We had been saving our allowances ever since summer, so there wasn’t any real danger that we were going to have to rely exclusively on blotters and calendars. Also Ernestine and Martha now had lunch-time jobs as cashiers in the high-school cafeteria, and Frank and Bill had been doing yard work for neighbors.

A good many tree decorations from previous years were stored in the attic. But Mother knew there was happiness in anticipation of something pleasant, so she encouraged us to make fathom after fathom of paper chains from colored advertisements and illustrations that she’d clip out of magazines.

It was customary for each member of the family to give individual presents to all other members. But as fights and arguments occurred, the gift list of each of us seemed to become considerably shortened.

Almost every argument between Thanksgiving Day and Christmas ended with the announcement that the two participants were irrevocably severing Yuletide relations, and cutting each other off without so much as a blotter.

“Just for that,” one participant would shout, “you’re off my Christmas list forever. I’m taking the present I had for you right back to the store.”

“I wasn’t going to give you anything, anyway,” the other participant would bellow. “Besides, that’s the fourth time this week you’ve taken me off your list.”

Of course all was forgotten and forgiven by Christmas. But if one had kept tabs, it would have appeared that only Mother was certain of getting presents from any of us.

In a good many families, the parents trim the tree on Christmas Eve, and surprise the children the next morning. Mother and Dad thought this was doing things in reverse—that the parents had both the fun of trimming and of watching the looks of pleased surprise. In our house, the children trimmed the tree, and the parents were surprised.

Mother was banned from the parlor on the day before Christmas. She wasn’t even allowed to witness the arrival of the tree, which was brought home on Fred’s express wagon and smuggled in through the kitchen door.

We trimmed the tree that night, while Mother worked alone in her office. We sang carols as we weaved on the tinsel and spread paper chains from the mantel to the chandelier.

Mother’s office was separated from the parlor by a large sliding door, and sometimes we’d hear her soprano joining in. We seldom thought of Mother as being lonesome any more. But perhaps she was lonesome that Christmas Eve.

In a big family, the Santa Claus secret often leaks pretty far down the line. Not that anybody deliberately gives it away, but because too many lay it on too heavily for it to remain plausible.

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