A Thank You! Way Past Due.

BLUE POINT
A Thank You! Way Past Due
By Robert Spencer




Well, it's holiday time again. The pressure starts to build. The stress factor is maxed. The credit cards are starting to melt from the friction of over use. The gifts you ordered from the catalogs are not showing up. Even if they arrive today, this second, they will never get to where they have to be in time for Christmas. So you run out to purchase something else you hope will do as a substitute. Then you rush to the Post Office and spend twice as much to mail the "under quality, over priced" substitute. So that it will get there in time for the big day!
The family pressure is also adding to the festivities of the season! This one is not talking to that one. This one wants to get together with the family here. That one wants to get together there. Do I mail the gifts or do I hold on to them and wonder if I am going to see them for a few minutes of precious time.
SOUND FAMILIAR?

Then I think back to simpler days, when Mom and Dad had to deal with all the pressure. Some how they did it! They had seven kids to worry about, more to buy and less to buy it with. They did it! The biggest thing on my mind at that time was what Santa was going to bring me. Would it be the Marx Cart, the Pikes Peak road rally race car set. Or maybe it would be the skateboard or the giant Mighty Mathilda aircraft carrier, or just maybe all of the above!
All I know is that the Sears Wish Book was marked with a lot of green ink. That was my color. Mom used to give us each the book at different times, with each of us having our own color ink to circle the things we wanted. Then, when she had time (usually when we were sleeping) she would go through the "Toy Bible" and get ideas of what we all wanted for Christmas. Some how, we were always happy with what “Santa” had selected.
We seem to forget what this season in all about. Then a slap in the face! Reality! The year was 1963. I think I was in the second or third grade. Wintertime, January, The snow was really coming down, a blizzard! Then the fire whistle sounded. From my classroom you could look across the street and see the Blue Point Fire Dept. I looked at the clock and said, "It must be a fire because it was not 12 noon." The fire whistle always went off at 12 noon. Every one knew it. We all watched as the fire trucks filled with volunteer firemen raced down Blue Point Ave. under the Long Island Rail Road train trestle, and out of sight in the blinding snow. I remember saying, "Wouldn't it be funny if it were my house!"
About an hour later the class room phone rings. My teacher answered it. I was told not to go home after school. I was to meet my brother and sister. Then we were to go to the Delrossi's house and meet my Mom there. The Delsossi's were close friends of the family and Mom would visit Mrs. Delrossi regularly. So this didn't seem out of the ordinary to us. So my sister, my brother and I, trudged through the snow to meet Mom. When we got there she was waiting for us, with my little brother.
She sat us down in the Delrossi’s kitchen and explained that our house had burned down that afternoon, in that blinding snowstorm. Neither of us realized what this truly meant to each one of us. We all wanted to (had to) go see our house. When Dad got there we all took a ride "home". I remember pulling into the driveway in our Chevy Bel-air. I looked up at what used to be our house. We got out of the car and looked up at it again, in disbelief. The windows were all broken. The walls were all burned and scorched and mostly gone. We walked up the front steps. The door was burnt and leaning against the wall in the entryway. What was left of the carpet was soaked with water from the fire hoses. That smell! That smell that hit me in the face as we walked inside. That burnt, wet, musty smell. It remains so vivid in my mind. We were all kind of numb walking through the ruins of our life together. The clock that Dad got from Germany, for Mom when he was there with Republic Aviation was destroyed. The toys and all our Christmas presents were gone. My Mighty Mathilda aircraft carrier melted in a ball of scorched, blue plastic. All our clothes were gone, burned. Shoes, coats, books, everything was gone. We were shaken to say the least. Very uncertain as to where our life would go from here.
You know, it was then that the spirit of the season really hit home. The outpouring from every body in that little town was amazing. We were given clothes to wear, food, a place to stay (if we needed it). Anything we needed was there. My Mom and Dad were pretty tough people. They held it together. All they could talk about was how to rebuild. Get all us kids back into school. Keeping us together as much as possible, as a family. Keeping a positive attitude and some how we did get through it. I know if it wasn't for my Mom and Dad, my brothers and sister and of course that small town of Blue Point and the generous people that I was proud to call "neighbors" and "friends". I wouldn't be the person that I am. I think of those people often (Probably more now as I am getting older). I hope they are doing well. I hope they know how much they are appreciated for their kindness. I’m sure a lot of them have passed on by now, as my parents have. I do hope their children have grown up with the same giving and caring spirit their Parents had. This is what makes us neighbors and friends, no matter where we are now. So merry Christmas Mom & Dad, and Merry Christmas to the wonderful people of my home town on the south shore of Long Island!
So as I watch my children opening their gifts with excitement on Christmas morning. I hope that I can be half as good a parent to them, as my parents were to me. I pray that all goes well in their lives. I will try to teach them the spirit of Christmas. Maybe some day they can sit down and reflect on their lives, think of me and say okay Dad, now I understand!