Christmas sketches

Many years ago in the early 1950s, my husband had recently returned from a year in Korea and we were getting ourselves settled in good old Government Housing. We had two children at that time; both of them boys. The youngest had been born while my Marine was serving in Pohang, Korea. We were told by friends that we should take the boys out to the main area at the Camp Pendleton Marine Corps Base to see Santa. It involved getting there fairly early as Santa was to arrive in a helicopter about nine in the morning. It was worth the effort for the gifts that were given were really nice and selected according to a child’s age. Our children were very happy with their gifts but my eldest son, about three asked me, “Why does Santa wear Marine shoes instead of boots?” Sure enough peeking from the red pants legs were regulation U S M C shoes! Come on, Santa! No boots?

My husband immediately told our son, “Well, that’s because Marine shoes are so comfortable!” That was enough for my son. I sure hope someone tipped off Santa regarding his faux pas!

When I was a small child, about five, I was worried that Santa could not come because we had no fireplace; his legendary entrance. We had a brick chimney atop our house but it connected to a wood stove in our living room. My, sister, Evelyn, six years older than I, assured me that he would just come in our front door. “What if the door is locked?” I would ask. Having an answer for everything, she told me we never locked our door but if we did Santa was magic and could come in anyway. After that I could go to sleep.

There is one in every crowd and a girl named Gracie lived across the street from us. She was about eight. She told me a preposterous story about there being no Santa Claus! How ridiculous! I challenged her by saying, “Well, then, who brings the toys?”

She said, “Your Mom and Dad order them from the Sears and ‘Monkey’ Wards Catalogs!”

Back to my sister again. With that “ridiculous, preposterous” story, I asked if it were true. She was a quick thinker and said, “Sure, her parents probably do have to order her toys, because she wasn’t good this year and Santa only brings toys to good little children.” What a smart sister I had! The world is full of non-believers.

In 1959 my Marine spouse left for Okinawa, not to return until October of 1960. I was expecting my fifth child which was due December 23rd. My other four children were prompt and all delivered within one day of the due date. I was very worried about not being with them on Christmas. Knowing my prompt delivery dates, I was sure the kids would have “Grandma” and friends doing Christmas for them while I was in the hospital with number five child. But, as fate dictated, that little boy, my fifth child, was nine days late and was born on New Years, January 1, 1960. My Christmas, that year, was a very “thankful” time.

I asked former Mayor, Ed Grimes, if he had a good Christmas story I could write about. He immediately told me the story which he termed the best Christmas of his life. Get out your handkerchiefs.

Ed and his brother, Jerry, lived in Arvin with their mother, Helen Arvizu Grimes, a hard working waitress, and only support of her small family. As fate would dictate, Helen contracted Tuberculosis and was sent to Stony Brook Retreat, a sanitarium at Keene, California.

This involved the two boys being placed in a foster home. Ed was the elder brother but only age six. They were occasionally taken to see their mother but only from a distance as TB is a communicable disease. Helen was not to recover from her illness and requested that she see her sons for Christmas that year. She was allowed to see and talk to them at close range this one time. They were cautioned not “to touch” but the rules were broken and they both sat on her lap. He said he remembered her hugging them so tightly. There were no presents that year, no fancy meal, just a mother hugging her most precious possessions; her sons – a day that Ed still deems the best Christmas of his life.

Through the years the brothers were to live in eight foster homes. Ed says, “You learn to know the ropes. You are cared for and fed but usually never hugged.” Finally though, they were blessed to have a very good man, Jake Ratzlaff, of Tehachapi, as their final Foster Parent. They were finally “home.” Ed states: “That Christmas, when I was six, with my mother, was my very best Christmas.” These many years later, his mother’s love still reaches back to him, as he recalls her giving the only gift she had to give – her unconditional love.

“God Bless us, everyone.”