| Family Non-Fiction posted December 17, 2019 |
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Best Christmas Ever!!!!
A Hustler's Christmas
by Earl Corp
As a kid you always think of Christmas as a magical time. Santa’s coming, school is out, and there is usually a nice pristine blanket of snow covering the earth.
The Christmas I remember the most is the one when I was eight-years-old. It was the year I realized there wasn’t a Santa Claus, You would think the magic would be gone, but not that year.
My dad was laid off in September and there wasn’t two spare dimes to rub together in the house. It wasn’t looking good on the present front at all.
My parents were determined that our financial situation wouldn’t mar our Christmas. They went to work to get it together to make it a Merry Christmas for my sisters and me. Before hustling took on negative connotations my parents were hustlers.
Dad was a tool maker by trade, but prior to that he’d been a butcher. He took care of Christmas dinner by butchering two hogs for a guy. He was given a ham, which he got smoked by trading a fresh deer hide for.
My mom was a crafter, she could sew, knit, and crochet her butt off. Dad was also a very gifted woodworker. He had an old Shopsmith in the basement he spent hours on turning out projects.
While I knew there wasn’t a Santa, I had no clue what my parents were doing to make sure my sisters and I had a Merry Christmas.
When the big day arrived we came downstairs to a tree full of presents. My sisters were excited and gleeful. I was surprised at the amount of loot under the tree.
When we opened our presents we weren’t finding the newest toys from Marx or Hasbro, but what we got was a whole lot better.
My mother had made me a fully functional marionette, I got an instruction book with it. She had made me two new shirts and had knitted a hat, mittens, and a scarf set for my sisters and me.
My dad had made me an inner tube gun on the Shopsmith. It was a huge rubber band gun with some range. Since I liked to read, my dad had made me some wooden bookends with huge eyebolts that gave the appearance the books had a bolt running through them.
My older sister received a huge plywood doll house. It was painted and decorated to look like our house and even had our address number painted on it.
We had cleaned out the attic during the summer and my mom had found about 20 lead soldiers, which were under the tree for me. I still have those soldiers, they are one of my prized possessions.
I also received my very first camera!
I took a picture of my dad sweeping up wrapping paper, which made my mother cringe. Every time for the next 20 years whenever she made the remark he didn’t help around the house he would have me dig the picture out to prove her wrong.
We would have bigger Christmas’s in years to come, but I’ll always remember the “Hustler’s Christmas.”
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As a kid you always think of Christmas as a magical time. Santa’s coming, school is out, and there is usually a nice pristine blanket of snow covering the earth.
The Christmas I remember the most is the one when I was eight-years-old. It was the year I realized there wasn’t a Santa Claus, You would think the magic would be gone, but not that year.
My dad was laid off in September and there wasn’t two spare dimes to rub together in the house. It wasn’t looking good on the present front at all.
My parents were determined that our financial situation wouldn’t mar our Christmas. They went to work to get it together to make it a Merry Christmas for my sisters and me. Before hustling took on negative connotations my parents were hustlers.
Dad was a tool maker by trade, but prior to that he’d been a butcher. He took care of Christmas dinner by butchering two hogs for a guy. He was given a ham, which he got smoked by trading a fresh deer hide for.
My mom was a crafter, she could sew, knit, and crochet her butt off. Dad was also a very gifted woodworker. He had an old Shopsmith in the basement he spent hours on turning out projects.
While I knew there wasn’t a Santa, I had no clue what my parents were doing to make sure my sisters and I had a Merry Christmas.
When the big day arrived we came downstairs to a tree full of presents. My sisters were excited and gleeful. I was surprised at the amount of loot under the tree.
When we opened our presents we weren’t finding the newest toys from Marx or Hasbro, but what we got was a whole lot better.
My mother had made me a fully functional marionette, I got an instruction book with it. She had made me two new shirts and had knitted a hat, mittens, and a scarf set for my sisters and me.
My dad had made me an inner tube gun on the Shopsmith. It was a huge rubber band gun with some range. Since I liked to read, my dad had made me some wooden bookends with huge eyebolts that gave the appearance the books had a bolt running through them.
My older sister received a huge plywood doll house. It was painted and decorated to look like our house and even had our address number painted on it.
We had cleaned out the attic during the summer and my mom had found about 20 lead soldiers, which were under the tree for me. I still have those soldiers, they are one of my prized possessions.
I also received my very first camera!
I took a picture of my dad sweeping up wrapping paper, which made my mother cringe. Every time for the next 20 years whenever she made the remark he didn’t help around the house he would have me dig the picture out to prove her wrong.
We would have bigger Christmas’s in years to come, but I’ll always remember the “Hustler’s Christmas.”
The Christmas I remember the most is the one when I was eight-years-old. It was the year I realized there wasn’t a Santa Claus, You would think the magic would be gone, but not that year.
My dad was laid off in September and there wasn’t two spare dimes to rub together in the house. It wasn’t looking good on the present front at all.
My parents were determined that our financial situation wouldn’t mar our Christmas. They went to work to get it together to make it a Merry Christmas for my sisters and me. Before hustling took on negative connotations my parents were hustlers.
Dad was a tool maker by trade, but prior to that he’d been a butcher. He took care of Christmas dinner by butchering two hogs for a guy. He was given a ham, which he got smoked by trading a fresh deer hide for.
My mom was a crafter, she could sew, knit, and crochet her butt off. Dad was also a very gifted woodworker. He had an old Shopsmith in the basement he spent hours on turning out projects.
While I knew there wasn’t a Santa, I had no clue what my parents were doing to make sure my sisters and I had a Merry Christmas.
When the big day arrived we came downstairs to a tree full of presents. My sisters were excited and gleeful. I was surprised at the amount of loot under the tree.
When we opened our presents we weren’t finding the newest toys from Marx or Hasbro, but what we got was a whole lot better.
My mother had made me a fully functional marionette, I got an instruction book with it. She had made me two new shirts and had knitted a hat, mittens, and a scarf set for my sisters and me.
My dad had made me an inner tube gun on the Shopsmith. It was a huge rubber band gun with some range. Since I liked to read, my dad had made me some wooden bookends with huge eyebolts that gave the appearance the books had a bolt running through them.
My older sister received a huge plywood doll house. It was painted and decorated to look like our house and even had our address number painted on it.
We had cleaned out the attic during the summer and my mom had found about 20 lead soldiers, which were under the tree for me. I still have those soldiers, they are one of my prized possessions.
I also received my very first camera!
I took a picture of my dad sweeping up wrapping paper, which made my mother cringe. Every time for the next 20 years whenever she made the remark he didn’t help around the house he would have me dig the picture out to prove her wrong.
We would have bigger Christmas’s in years to come, but I’ll always remember the “Hustler’s Christmas.”
 Recognized |
Christmas 1971
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