The Family Down the Street

    It was common knowledge they didn’t have the best of things.  During the summer months, you could always tell things were a little tough.  Their daddy worked two jobs and held his head high. Their mom always did her best with what she had. The kids, three boys, two girls, never seemed to miss a step; never asked, never begged.  All might have been tattered but mom made sure they were clean.

    Back then, the girls babysat.  The boys were always cutting grass in the summer; shoveling snow in the winter. I remember one Christmas going over to their house. 
   
    As kids, we played checkers games at their dining room table.  Then, their daddy came home with a tree and all the house was abuzz.  We watched as he set that old metal stand, putting water in its base.  Then I saw something that I feel in my heart today.  After the little tree was in place, their mom dried her hands.  Standing with her hands on her hips, smiling with pride, she said, “Let’s decorate it!”

    The girls had made rings out of colored construction paper from school.  Mom brought out a string or so of lights; some blinked, some stayed on. The boys and me strung popcorn for the tree.  They had medical cotton all around the base of the tree—to look like snow.  Then being that politically correct Christmas person, I noticed that some of the fragile ornaments were broken and cracked.  I mentioned it to their mom.

    She put her arm around my shoulder and gave me a big hug.  She said, “Some people don’t have a tree or a place to put it.  So don’t let them broken bulbs spoil your Christmas baby!” That’s when I learned the true meaning of Christmas.  From me and The Family Down the Street, enjoy your Christmas!

by Taz
Detroit
December 24, 2000


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