It's just a small white envelope stuck among the branches of our Christmas tree. No name, no identification, no inscription. It has peeked through the branches of our tree for the past 10 years or so.
It all began because my husband Mike hated Christmas - oh, not the true meaning of Christmas, but the commercial aspects of it - the overspending, the frantic running around at the last minute to get a tie for Uncle Harry and the dusting powder for Grandma - the gifts given in desperation because you couln't think of anything else.
Knowing he felt this way, I decided one year to bypass the usual shirts, sweaters, ties and so forth. I reached for something special just for Mike.
The inspiration came in an unusual way.
On son Kevin, who was 12 that year, was wrestling at the junior level at the school he attended. Shortly before Christmas, there was a non-league match against a team sponsored by the inner-city church.
These youngsters, dressed in sneakers so ragged that shoestrings seemed to be the only thing holding them together, presented a sharp contrast to our boys in their spiffy blue and gold uniforms and sparkling new wrestling shoes. As the match began, I was alarmed to see that the other team was wrestling without headgear, a kind of light helmet designed to protect a wrestler's ears.
It was a luxury the ragtag team obviously could not afford. Well, we ended up walloping them. We took every weight class. And as each of their boys got up from the mat, he swaggered around in his tatters with false bravado, a kind of street pride that couldn't acknowledge defeat. Mike, seated beside me, shook his head sadly. "I wish just one of them could have won," he said. "They have a lot of potential, but losing like this could take the heart right out of them." Mike loved kids - all kids - and he knew them, having coached little league football, baseball and lacrosse.
That's when the idea for his present came. That afternoon, I went to a local sporting goods store and bought an assortment of wrestiling headgear and shoes and sent them anonymously to the inner-city church. On Christmas Eve, I placed the envelope on the tree, the note inside telling Mike what I had done and that this was his gift from me. His smile was the brightest thing about Christmas that year and in succeeding years.
For each Christmas, I followed the tradition - one year sending a group of mentally handicapped youngsters to a hockey game, another year a check to a pair of elderly brothers whose home had burned to the ground the week before Christmas, and so on.
The envelope became the highlight of our Christmas. It was always the last thing opened on Christmas morning, and our children, ignoring their new toys, would stand with wide-eyed anticipation as thier dad lifted the envelope from the tree to reveal its contents.
As the children grew, the toys gave way to more practical presents, but the envelope never lost is allure.
The story doesn't end there. You see, we lost Mike last year due to dreaded cancer. When Christmas rolled around, I was still so wrapped in grief that I barely got the tree up. But Christmas Eve found me placing an envelope on the tree, and in the morning it was joined by three more.
Each of our children, unbeknownst to the others, had placed an envelope on the tree for their dad. The tradition has grown and someday will expand even further with our grandchildren standing around the tree with wide-eyed anticipation watching as their fathers take down the envelope.

Good one!

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Lovely.

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Trina

Vice-President of the Intergalactic Order of Brussels Sprouts Haters

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Dan, you always post the most wonderful stories...thanks for this one!

I wish my family would understand if I did THAT instead of "the frantic running around". When DD was an infant (she was born in September), I didn't get her anything for Christmas that year. All she cared about at that point was breastmilk and dry Pampers.

I got an angel off the angel tree and got a coat and a baby doll for a little girl that needed it way worse than mine. I'm quite sure my inlaws still roll their eyes about that. It's sad.

Thanks for the story, Dan. I need to give some serious consideration to a revolution of sorts next year.

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Beautiful story Dan. Thankyou

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That was incredible. Thanks so much for sharing.

Maxibee - we did the same thing when Austin was really little. We usually get an Angel Tree child and buy for them BEFORE we even buy for our own kids. I figure our kids get stuff all year long.

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Katie
275/238/150
Restarted 01/08/2007
37 pounds lost!
http://justanotherfatgirl.blogspot.com

Great story, I had tears in my eyes at the end....

thanks for that.
c

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http://www.youravon.com/cnorulak
carolyn in texas
started 8/11/03 327/268/177
5/20/08/ - 348
onward thru the fog