No idea where I got this but it seems it must have been in some antique place. I remember buying it but not where or when. It looks like Santa was painted on it..no a decal. It's one of my favorite things in my kitchen for Christmas. It reminds me of my childhood.
I was a child at the end of WWII. I think the war ended when I was about six years old. The depression was a terrible time. We even slept on hay once. My father had to leave my mother and I picking hops while he went where he heard there was work. We slept on the floor of a barracks with other families. We had to climb up a ladder to get into it. It was dry at least.
A cart pulled by a mule used to drive through the rows of hops. I remember a terrible day when the cart drove over a little baby that the mother had put under the vines to sleep killing it. That haunted me for years. I was so young..just a tiny little girl.
I remember how hard it was. The stamps we used for everything, for shoes, tires, so many things were rationed....but mostly I remember wearing those little wooden dutch shoes when I started school. The tops were leather and the bottoms were made of wood. I was so happy to get them. We wore them with bobby socks. I loved them because I could walk on my toes. The only problem was they made my socks pull down inside my shoes..and I had to constantly pull them up. Socks are something I am particular about to this day.
I think one of the hardest Christmas' we had was the one we spent in a motel my parents were finally able to get for us.. It was Christmas and my mother was expecting my baby brother. My mother put a pine branch in a coffee can. Until the day they died neither of my parents would eat rice. That's all they had to eat for a long time. If they were able to get any food other than rice, I was the one that got it. I honestly don't know how they did it. Cardboard in the bottom of my father's shoes that he had worn clear through looking for work.
The people who ran the motel were kind folks. They offered to take me to their childrens school Christmas program. My mother agreed..and off we went.
It was in the school auditorium...and I remember the seats were like seats in a theatre. The children sang..and there was a Christmas play..and then Santa came on stage. Everyone cheered..the curtains parted and a lovely big Christmas tree was there all piled with presents. Santa sat in a big chair and began calling out names of children.
The pile of gifts got smaller and smaller...and then the program was over. When I got home..I was crying and told of everyone getting a present but me. Santa had forgotten me. I was only four and didn't understand. Seems the parents had brought the gifts to the school to be handed out to their children. My mother didn't know this was going to happen.. my parents looked so sad. I remember how bad the people who had taken me to the program felt.
That Christmas morning I awoke to a little suitcase sitting on the table near the tree in the coffee can. Santa had remembered me after all! I got a little Betsy Wetsy in her own suitcase. Where they got it I never knew. They would only say Santa brought it. Even when I grew up they would never tell me.
The magic and wonder of Christmas.
My tiny brother was born and brought to that motel room. I remember my mattress on my little bed had a hole in it and one night I fell through it to the floor. The springs were chain link. It must have been broken too..all I remember was my bottom hitting the floor..
But we were healthy and had love. I had such wonderful parents. My mother sang to me all the time.
Of course I had wonderful memories of picking fruit and traveling..my parent did not!
I sometimes wonder if my love of dolls comes from not having any for so long..
and my shoe fettish..I LOVE shoes, does it come from wishing for them so much? Dreams so real I actually thought when I woke, they were under the bed and peeked to see.
What a time it all was!
Old folks have total recall ya know.. :):)
Sending wishes for all things wonderful. Keep your eye on that star..