When you start a blog based on a life (64 years and counting) it leaves plenty of topics to write about. With Christmas only 12 days away I thought I would recall the Christmas Santa didn’t come to our house.
We had just moved near Gladstone Manitoba from Alberta in November, I think the year was 1955. That would make me five years old at the time, My brother Allan was three and sister Rosemary was still brand new, having been born at the beginning of September.
It snowed for a solid week prior to Christmas which meant all the roads for miles around were blocked. In those days all of our presents were ordered from the T. Eaton catalog and came through the mail. Naturally with roads blocked there was no mail delivery.
Christmas morning my brother and I awoke to sun streaming in through the windows for the first time in days. Our stockings were hanging limp and empty as they had been when we’d hung them the night before. We were about to rush to the tree but Mom told us we may just as well stay in bed and keep warm as Santa hadn’t been able to make it through the storm.
Well two longer faces had seldom been seen but we made the best of it with hopes it was all just a giant mistake and would soon be made right. The snowplow finally made it down our road around noon and shortly after that Dad warmed up the car and headed for town which was only about five or six miles away.
Imagine our excitement when he returned with parcels, bags of groceries including a turkey and the news that Santa hadn’t forgotten about us after all, he’d just left our presents at the post office.