The Christmas Typewriter
The year was 1979. Almost 30 years ago for me. I was a young man with a young family struggling to keep our house, and food on the table for 4. My wife and I had a 6 year old daughter and a 2 month old son. 1979 was quite a challenge, because of the fact that I had been laid off from work for most of the year.
Christmas was fast approaching, and, I was wondering what I was going to do in the way of gifts, “from Santa.” We took the kids to see Santa, as we always did each year, and my daughter asked Santa, as she sat on his lap this year, for a typewriter. Little did I know that most the young girls her age were asking for typewriters that particular year. No wonder we have such a surplus of Journalists’ today!
I suppose Santa had no problem leaving a typewriters under many trees that year, but it was going to be a problem for our little girl. You see, we had been just getting by. I had been out of work due to layoffs for most of that year, and the unemployment checks I was receiving were barely keeping us afloat. There were no jobs to be found anywhere, and Lord knows I tried to find one. And now, here it was Christmas, and I just didn’t know what we were going to do. This meant very much to a young father wanting to see smiles on his children’s faces.
As fate would have it, just before Christmas, about 2 weeks or so, I was called back to work. “We just might have a Christmas after all, I thought!” Sure enough, about 2 days before Christmas, I received a check that would suffice for paying most of the bills, and, provide a decent Christmas day for my daughter. There was one slight problem though.
Since there was a run on a, “proper,” typewriter for the young writer that my daughter was, I just could not find one anywhere. I went to store after store, with no luck what so ever. All day long, store after store, and nothing. Finally, I thought I would try the last store that I could think of in my area. To tell the truth, by this time, I didn’t hold much confidence that I would find that prized typewriter that my daughter so desperately wanted.
The store, like all the other stores, was so crowded that I could hardly move. I didn’t know where to look, and I didn’t see a sales person anywhere. It was a struggle, moving from aisle to aisle, up and down, and all around. I was pretty much wore out and about to call it a night when, lo and behold … there, on a shelf, in all of it’s glory; a typewriter! I thought I was seeing a mirage, or it was a dream. Could it be for real? I could have swore there was a radiant glow surrounding it, and I was hearing angels from heaven singing, Hallelujahs! It was the Holy Grail of typewriters I tell you.
I have to tell you also that I almost fell on my face, racing to that gift, the gift from Santa that was going to make my daughter so very happy.
It was a floor model, not in a box, but that was no problem. The store would put it in a box, I thought (which they did).
Well, I finally got to that beauty that was going to make my wife and I more happy than my daughter, I just knew. Just then, I noticed that someone had put a sheet of paper in the typewriter. That too was okay, I thought, there was nothing wrong with it, and it looked brand spanking new. Well, I was looking at my amazing catch, when I noticed someone had typed something on the sheet of paper. What I read floored me! It said, “Merry Christmas Andrea.” That was all that was written. I was very tired and so I looked at it again to see if I read the words properly.
I immediately gazed all around the store to see if I might be able to tell who had written that sentence on the paper. Nothing. Then, I thought, I must have been set up. But, no one knew what I was doing, nor, where I was. I felt very strange standing there. I must have looked as though I had seen a ghost for crying out loud.
Well, your probably wondering what all the fuss is about and why that writing floored me, or, you may have figured it out by now. That’s right, my daughters name is, “Andrea.”
Coincidence? Maybe. I have been told that Christmas is made for miracles, however. And that ole St. Nick works his special magic around the, Christmas Holidays. I guess that incident made me a believer. It seems as though every Christmas, my problems seem to be taken care of, in one way, or another.
My daughter now has a beautiful daughter, and to me, she is the spitting image of my daughter when she was that age. When she gets older I just can’t wait to tell her about the,” Christmas typewriter.” And you can bet I will tell her that, “Christmas is made for miracles.”
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