A Christmas Memory

This post is an email I received from Scott this morning.  I hope you enjoy it as much as I have....




At some point you should create  a random Christmas memory post.  I'd like to contribute the following:

The Christmas Coat...

I've always pondered what the true meaning of a gift is?  We all like nice things, but I'll sound a little cliched here..... the underlying sentiment is what really matters.  This memory made me think about gift-giving.

At some November in the early 1980's, Dad and I were sitting in the living room trying to decide what to get everyone for Christmas.  At this point ,Dad was typically in bed due to his illness:, and only occasionally went out when he had a good day.  These were few and far between at this point.

I was probably in the 6th grade at that wonderful crossroads of youth when you still have some sweetness, and the ravages of adolescence hasn't fully set in.  So, there we were in our living room (with which we had outfitted with a large bulky hospital bed up against a paneled wall) with my composition notebook and pencil in hand making a list of family members and possible gift ideas.

I would call out the name, and Daddy and I would brainstorm possibilities.  Of course ,my thoughts were extravagant, and I was completely unaware that we were a struggling middle class family without an endless supply of banknotes.  But, we usually came out with something that seemed manageable.

The list finally came to Mom.  Daddy wanted to get her something special this year.  We had been through a lot as a family, and it was time for a little something nice.

"How about a coat?" Daddy suggested with a sense of accomplishment.  He said that it could be both practical and stylish and "wouldn't cost an arm and a leg".  I agreed and asked where we would go to buy a coat?  The mall?

Dad said that he had a few ideas around town where we could look.  

So on the next "good day" we loaded up the Cadillac with the wheelchair, oxygen tanks and various other paraphernalia and set out to find the perfect coat for Mom.

After some visits we came across some small clothing store that I thought was still stuck in the 1890's.  I have zero fashion sense, but I wasn't one to question things.

We bought what was probably the ugliest coat they had.  It didn't seem that way at the time; but thinking back on it, I can't remember it being something that you would see down a runway.  Yet, it had lots of pockets and was practical.  They boxed it up, and I couldn't wait for Mom to open the box on Christmas morning.

The weeks went by, and Christmas came and went.  Mom seemed so pleased with the coat ,and father and son congratulated each other on our purchase.  

The coat was even worn a few times.   Which, I now give her a lot of credit.

It took many years later for me to realize that it wasn't the coat that mattered...it was the thought behind the coat that made a statement.


A brief footnote...Billy was diagnosed with A.L.S (Lou Gehrig's disease) in 1981...he fought a good fight...but lost
the battle in 1994....almost twenty years ago, and sometimes it seems like yesterday...  Since 1958, he has been a part of my life everyday....      Scott, thank you for sharing this memory.....