There were a few of the big, old-fashioned, multi-colored lights that had seen many Christmases past that remained available for decoration. When a tired light would burn out, a piece of tinsel would be placed in the socket to complete the circuit to keep the surviving bulbs shining. Other bits and pieces of decorations featured popcorn strung on strands of string, and origami paper ornaments crafted by the two older brothers who had mastered the art while serving in Brazil with their missionary parents. Christmas wrapping paper provided resourceful raw material.

This reality seemed irrelevant and incidental to the Kid.

He planned to wait up for the main event—the arrival of Santa Claus. Eventually, the wisdom of older brothers prevailed and the over-adrenalized youngster went off to bed to assure Santa’s arrival. Finding him too hyper to sleep, the brothers eventually burst into the room announcing Santa’s arrival and departure. Adrenalized with expectation, the youngster still remembers rushing into that mini-sized, upstairs living room to explore evidence of Santa’s generosity.

Now it seems the Kid liked to build things with tools such as a saw and a hammer. Working in the mini-sized kitchen at the feet of an incredibly patient mother, he had, at one time used old wooden boxes to craft an “ice-box.” When the Dad saw this imagined work of art, he rewarded the Kid with a gift nickel and hearty congratulations. That moment, Santa spotted a winner of an idea for the perfect Christmas gift.

This was a time before refrigerators when families would keep food cool in a piece of hand-crafted oak furniture with a door at the top where the iceman could deliver a block of ice. The ice would chill the contents of the box enough to keep food from spoiling. When the ice melted, the runoff would drip down to a pan at the base that had to be emptied regularly to avoid overflow onto the kitchen floor.

The ice wagon was drawn by a horse. The friendly iceman, known to the neighborhood, delivered ice to a home by clamping a chunk of ice with oval-handled steel tongs and hoisting it to his shoulder, protected by a leather patch. The ice cake could range in size from 15 to 35 or more pounds depending on the number displayed at the top of a card placed in the front window of the home.

Not waiting for Christmas morning, the four-year-old Kid spotted multiple strings strung out from the trunk of the Christmas tree reaching out of sight, across the living room’s floor. But where was the present? Big brothers advised him to follow the strings. Sure enough, at the end of one string, he found a hammer, under the couch; another led to a small saw, hiding under a living room chair; another to pliers; and the big bonanza proved to be a shiny, hollow-handled brass screwdriver, with a screw-on cap at the top of the tube. Take off the cap and inside were two or three smaller and smaller screwdrivers, each inside the previous larger one.

Many Christmas celebrations later, the Kid still remembers that 1933 Christmas past when he discovered a complete set of tools waiting for him, tied to the end of those long, promising strings that led to an all-time height of Christmas joy.

What he doesn’t remember is what the two brothers, and the Mom and the Dad, received, for their Christmas that depression year—if anything. Given that 1933 money shortage, the now ancient Kid wonders if the rest of the family maybe sacrificed gifts for themselves in order to bring joy to the heart of a four-year-old who loved to build things. He doesn’t know the answer. What he does remember is what he learned from experience, by the example of unselfish family love:

it’s more blessed to give than to receive.

Warren LeRoi Johns