Little Drummer Boy

I sat humming along to my favorite holiday song for that year, "Little Drummer Boy".  I was 16 years old when my dad walked by. "You do realize there was never a drummer boy at the birth of Christ?" He rolled his eyes as I replied back at him "It's a beautiful song anyway." Dad stopped with a stern look "It's a lie, I hate that song." I frowned up at him and said "It's my favorite song this year!"  He shook his head "You don't care that this drummer boy says he saw baby Jesus when really the bible doesn't have him in there? It's a fake ridiculous song!" I watched my father very closely realizing I had shared to much of myself with him for now he thought I was stupid again. "Yeah I guess you are right." I say calmly looking back down at my book as I sat on the floor. 

This was the year that at 16 years old I had decided to wrap 32 small gifts for every friend at church. This was a big project, usually I just got my 3 beloved girl friends a gift. But I decided to include also their siblings and all my additional friends. I had been saving my money for boxes of candies and wallet size picture frames. Along with little porcelain figurines, and small jewelry boxes. I wrapped everything in white paper with a painted green tree pattern on it. My big heavy bag felt just like I was Santa Claus as I trucked it off to church that cold winter Sunday morning. As my mom saw my bag, she was surprised for I had kept this a secret over in the blue cottage where my desk was setup among storage boxes. I had used all my own money for everything even down to the scotch tape, I was very proud of this giving idea...... Now I didn't realize I would be teased and made fun of for this action, but at the time of getting ready I was thrilled! I did pull it off having spent every last penny I had. The look my mom gave me said "That is Silly." Yet I trucked off happily at church walking up to my 3 beloved girl friends, they each got the big gifts first. I had spent time thinking about how to show my love for them in this way. Then the rest of the gifts would be an all afternoon job handing them out in more or less a private way. Since it was on an afternoon of staying at church all day for the  Christmas party and then the long awaited evening service with our big Christmas play. The acting practice started in the first weeks of October so this play was everything us kids talked about. Since my only social outlet was at church getting there an hour and half earlier before the evening service for at least 8 weeks, was so much fun to me! I often stole away to sit outside of the room that my beloved friend Jen was practicing her violin. Her music played while I would let myself cry, or spent time deep in prayer over whatever I was struggling with at home. She some times found me there with a surprised smile and we would walk back to the group of people in a half hug or I would move to a dark corner in a class room where I could listen to the play practice behind the stage while chuckling to myself at my friends acting or joking around. When I was 16 I decided everyone played a big part in my life just by being my friend, so my gifts grew with my love and gratefulness. The girls that made fun of me for being "Santa" that year where not my best closest friends, yet I bravely gave them a small gift also. Their words stayed with me a long time when they said "If you were just a bit more chubby you would look just like Santa!" then they laughed and I stopped to glance at myself in the restroom mirror "Am I really so fat?" I wondered. I kept smiling while they continued "You must not have a life, if you have time to wrap this many gifts." I stood there awkwardly trying to chuckle, I always knew there was a reason these girls were not my true friends, but it still hurt having things said to me like this. I thought about what those girls said to me late into that night, I remembered the last thing they said as they were looking me up and down while rolling their eyes at the same time. "You should know buying gifts at the dollar store is so tacky. For they are poorly made and so white trash." They laughed again, I stood there surprised nodding back. I thought about it more later, for I didn't give them a gift to have them like me nor did I do it to show off. But maybe tonight when my mom made those commonly served oreo milkshakes I should say no.

Christmas time was always a happy time with my parents, even my father got into the excitement of opening gifts and listening to holiday music. Dad always had one gift wrapped from Santa Claus for someone, it was a gift that no one knew what it was. No one but Dad and whoever he had wrap the gift knew. I liked looking every year for that one Santa gift. One year  it was addressed to Dad from Santa and it was a Hickory Farms set of yummy goodies. Dad was the only one who got away with using Santa's name for gifts, Mom was not only against Santa but any and all Santa decor was thrown out of the house. As little kids we were told that Santa takes away from the birth of Jesus and Santa was really meant to be Satan. For Satan was trying to keep us from worshiping Jesus by posing as a soft chubby happy old man named Santa. Since they shared the same letters in their name it was obvious to our mother what it all REALLY meant. Yet Dad never gave up on Santa the giving one of Christmas named ol' Saint Nick. That Christmas of my 16th year Dad gave me the most amazing gift of my whole life, tears filled my eyes as it sat opened on my lap with my 2 year old messy blond hair brother Daren pulling the rest of the wrapping paper. "It's AMAZING." I whispered as Dad smiled back and nodded, if I really let myself cry he would have freaked out while moving away from me. But instead I nodded smiling and wiping my eyes quickly. The 2000 automatic type writer sat heavily on my lap as my hands were shaking as I held it. I keep telling everyone I wanted to be a writer, but almost every time I was told there wasn't any money or future in that.  Now since my father actually bought me a type writer, I felt it meant I could really write in a professional form. Dad gave good gifts that year, for  each of his older kids had a really special thing, He explained to us "These are a Thank you for working so hard this year at harvest time." He stood with his arms folded and his back against the hallway wall. The holiday music played the whole time from the radio when again the "Little Drummer Boy" came on Dad quickly changed the station as I picked up my gifts heading to the storage room for my desk in that private corner across the yard to the little blue cottage. I smiled singing to myself  "Come they told me pa romp apom pom....Me and my type writer."