And Something From My Grandma

If writing is something one inherits, then I love to write because of my grandmother. My mother also writes, but she has never been so prolific as grandma.

Grandma never made any real money writing. I don't know that she tried to. But she was published. She put together a book of poems, and twice her writing was part of a larger story collections compiled into a book. And newspapers published some of her stuff, too.

While packing away books Spouse came across one which contains a story grandma wrote. The book is called Memorable Doll Stories. There is no ISBN number and I can't find the publisher (Creative Writers Connection) on-line, so I'm guessing they have gone out of business.

It's a short story, so I'm going to post it here in its entirety. I think Grandma would be very happy to know it's being read again by so many. This would have been published within a couple years of Grandma's passing on.

The Faith of a Child
by Amy Mulnix

Eighty-two years have passed since the memorable time when my childhood desire was for a one-and-only-gift--a beautiful, expensive doll. In my childlike innocense, I had no idea that the doll I longed for was beyond my parents' financial ability to provide. The doll in question was not just a common china doll, but an imported German beauty. Many of my classmates whose parents were better off than mine, had already been given one of these coveted dolls. My desire was all-consuming.

Dolls were expensive even back in those long-ago days. I've seen several in my mature years priced at hundreds of dollars. Back then, I expect they were at least ten dollars, an unheard of, as well as unthinkable amount of money for my parents to spend for a doll.

As Christmas drew nearer, I asked Mama, did she think if I wrote to Santa Claus he would bring me one of those dolls? I knew exactly what I would name her. I could just see her in my mind. Her name would be Dorcus.

Mama said, "That's a pretty name, but Santa Claus has so many requests he may not have enough dolls to go around. Wouldn't you like a pretty white fur muff? I know Santa has lots of those."

I shook my head no. I wanted the doll. I wrote a letter to Santa and gave it to Mama to check and make sure I had worded it right. Dear Mother. How her heart must have ached knowing the disappointment in store for me. I, however, knew once I wrote to Santa Claus, my request would be filled. Oh, the faith of a child!

My father was a self-employed contractor and it had been a bad year. Many who owed him money were unable to pay. Consequently, my parents were having a difficult time making ends meet. I had no inkling of my parents' financial problems, and my mother probably had no more than ten dollars to spend on gifts for all four of us children.

It was one of those years when snow was late in coming. The iron-hard, frozen ground remained bare. Everyone was saying, "We must have snow for Christmas," but no snow came. I betgan asking God in my prayers every night to please send snow for Christmas.

Our neighbor girl Edna asked me what I was getting for Christmas. I said, "One of the dolls like the other girls have."

She said, "Betcha don't."

I said, "I will too. I've written and asked Santa Claus."

Edna said, "You dummy! There ain't no Santa Claus!"

She made me mad so I stuck out my tongue at her and ran home crying. Then I told Mama what Edna had said. Dear Mama. She wanted t ocomfort me, yet she knew t doll was beyond her means. She dried my tears and told me even if Santa didn't bring me the doll, she was sure he would have something nice for me. But I knew Santa wouldn't fail me.

Shortly before Christmas my aunt and my mother took the morning train to Waverly. Every day the Illinois Central Railroad ran four passenger trains each way from Waterloo, Iowa, to Albert Lea, Minnesota.

Mama and Aunt Clarissa returned home on the afternoon train. Mama had many interesting-looking parcels that she took to hers and Papa's bedroom, shutting the door behind her. Then she hurried to the kitchen to prepare our evening meal. When Papa came home to supper, I couldn't help but notice how happy and cheerful Mama was. I figured she and Aunt Clarissa had had a really nice day in Waverly.

The days dragged nearer to Christmas. We had pieces to speak for Sunday School and had to practice every afternoon at church. I already knew mine so I spent a good part of my time at practice telling everyone about the doll Santa was going to bring me. Someone asked, "How can you be so sure you'll get that doll?"

I said, "Why, I asked Santa Claus. He knows how badly I want it, so he will bring it."

Christmas Eve was very cold with a damp, biting wind. But who minds the weather when treats are in store? I can still feel the thrill as we marched to the front of the church and sat until it was time to speak our pieces. A big, bushy red cedar tree stood at the left side of the pulpit. Lots of gifts were piled around it. Then, o glory be, the door from outside opened and in came Santa. He was all in red and had long white whiskers. I felt prickly with excitement.

He ho ho hoed and said, "I expect you have all been good children?"

We all nodded because who would admit otherwise? He said his reindeer had a hard time pulling the sleigh due to the lack of snow. Then he asked some of theboys to help him distribute the gifts.

Soon the gifts were all given out, but I didn't have my doll. I sat there expectantly because I knew Santa was fooling me. I knew he had my doll. My faith never wavered, but Santa started to leave. Mama got up and touched his sleeve. She said, "Santa, you forgot Amy's doll."

"No, I'm sure I didn't miss anything," Santa replied.

Mama said, "Won't you please go back and look once more?"

So he did, and there, stuck in the branches of the busy red cedar tree, was Dorcus. My beautiful Dorcus.

As we lef the church, big, soft, featherly flakes of snow were coming down. God and Santa had heard my prayers.

Years later I learned of the miracle behind this story. On that fateful shopping expeditio nto Waverly, my dar mother and my dear aunt had gone from store to store trying to find a suitable substitute doll for me, but none could be found. At the last store the storekeeper was very irate. He said, "Did you see that woman who went out just as you came in?"

My aunt and my mother said, "Yes, we saw her."

"She pulls the same stunt every year," the storekeeper continued. "She puts something on layby. Then when she is sure it's too late for me to get another buyer, she'll come in and say she has changed her mind and doesn't want it. Later she will come back and say, 'Oh, if you lower your price, I'll take it.' She is sure it's too later for anyone else to buy it. Well, this year I'll fool her. If anyone will take this expensive doll off my hands for even a fraction of what it cost me, I'll sell it."

Mama bought the doll.