CHRISTMAS MEMORIES
The Christmas I Learned How to Give
Sometimes the best gift is the one you give away
During yesterday’s Christmas meal, I had a flashback to a long-forgotten holiday memory I thought I’d share.
Before moving to Pine Bluff, Arkansas, our family rented a house in a modest neighborhood in Little Rock. We were probably close to the poverty line in those days. Somehow our parents managed to keep us from feeling poor. My three brothers and I always had the things we needed and most of what we wanted.
At Christmas time, the toys always came in abundance. The four of us somehow managed to receive more than we dared to expect.
There is one Christmas from those days that is burned into my memory. It was a day of Hot Wheels race tracks and G.I. Joe soldiers. At some point that morning, our father asked us to pick our favorite toy from the day’s haul. Then to our dismay, he informed us that we had to give the toy to a needy child.
My father’s plan didn’t go over well. I remember the anger I felt, the sense of betrayal. Why hadn’t I picked a different toy, one I’d be more willing to give away?
Later that morning, the family piled into our Oldsmobile, ultimately stopping at a random home in a rural area outside of…
