December 1971 -- The Year Christmas was Canceled!!

It's been 40 years, but the memories of that day remain vivid. I was about 13. My sisters and brothers about 12, 10, 8, and 4. Mom was always busy -- taking care of us kids, her husband, her mom, church activities, neighbors in trouble... Dad was busy too. He was only a year or two into his new business partnership, running local trucks in the NY/NJ area as "Jersey Overnight Express". As kids, we couldn't understand much of this. When you're a kid you don't see your parents for what they do outside the family-circle. You can't understand what they're going through every workday. If they're sad or stressed or mad, you think it's probably caused by you or something you did.

Anyway, this story is especially ironic because it's rooted in the 60's hippie culture of Peace & Love.

It was a Saturday afternoon in mid-December. There was a family plan for us to start decorating the house for Christmas -- putting-up the tree, the trains, the Santa figures, the lights, the stockings. Since we'd moved to Somerset about 2 years before, we now had all the "Christmas stuff" stored in boxes in the basement. Getting to the basement, or "cellar" as we called it, was simple -- just walk thru the kitchen towards the hall & make 2 quick 90-degree turns. Open the door. Walk down the 15 or so steps. Done. Easy.

Now, while all 5 of us kids were surely excited for the official start of Christmas season, Dad probably didn't share excitement of "pulling-out" all the stuff. No doubt he was tired from a hard weeks work. Sure, some of this Christmas set-up was fun, like the Trains. But many other tasks, like the outside lights, were an annual hassle. Most weekends up to now, Dad would be engrossed in a fix-up project around the house. Reflecting back, he and Mom probably had a "deadline" in mind for some of these projects to be done before Christmas. I'd guess there were at least a few projects not yet completed which may have caused a bit of extra tension. So, while Dad was half-smiling and seemed happy to go along, I'm guessing he was a little miffed at the thought of having to lug dozens of boxes of Christmas stuff from the cellar and then put-up outside Christmas lights in 20-degree weather, while ignoring a fix-up project he hoped to have done already.

Well, Dad starts heading down the steps and suddenly stops. All 6-ft, 260 of him freezes. Trouble is brewing and with my Dad, his temper brewed-up fast... way faster than a micro-waved cup of coffee...

"What the He** is this...?

The older kids already knew what he'd found. It had been there for at least hours, maybe days. Somehow we must have thought that if we kept quite about it, there would be no trouble. Maybe we thought he wouldn't see it. How wrong we were.

On the white-painted wall next to the steps, on the left side, about half-ways-down, drawn in large form with dark crayon or marker, was someone's unique artistic rendition of a PEACE Sign. For Dad, it was about 4-steps down the stairs, turn his head to the left, eyes look straight ahead. Can't miss it.

If PEACE was it's meaning & intention, that was immediately lost on Dad. Now, just as a footnote, I should probably let you know that 1971 was still a year of long-haired hippies and anti-war protests. Dad had little sympathy. Only now, as I reflect, can I better understand that many of those folks were closer to his age (about 32) than mine. His anger towards them was crisp: "A bunch of lazy, spoiled brats that don't have enough sense to take a bath or get a haircut...."

So, there's Dad, standing on the basement steps, stopped from getting the Christmas stuff because he's just spotted a huge PEACE Sign drawn on a white wall of the house he's been fixing-up with every spare moment of his busy, hard-working life. His temperature rises. The eyes narrow. The anger boils. Need a visual? - think Ralph Cramden of The HoneyMooners as he gets going on a "To the Moon Alice" tirade.

Up the stairs he comes. A complete 180. No Christmas stuff, Just yelling: "Kids, get in here right now".

One-by-one we arrive in the living room, right next to Mom's new piano...

"Yes, Dad?"

"You wanted me, Dad"?

"Hi Daddy, is Santa Claus gonna come soon"?

"Who drew a Peace sign on my wall?"

No answer.

"I want to know now... Who drew a Peace sign on my wall?"

Silence. Shuffling. Tension.

Uuuhh-tttttt Oooohhhhhhhh....

One of us broke the silence... with just the perfect blend of surprise and innocence:

"There's a peace sign drawn on the wall?"

"Really?"

"Huh, wonder how that got there...?"

"Ya know, I went downstairs last week and I don't remember any Peace signs..."

Dad didn't say a word. He didn't have to. He just gave us all "The LOOK".
Silence was instantly restored. The LOOK could turn air to stone. It could turn water into ice is just a second. It could freeze and scare kids right in their tracks... 

The next interplay was classic in our family.

Dad said something like: "So, Nobody drew that Peace sign on the wall, huh"?

Kids, in unison, say something like: "No, Daddy... I didn't do it..."

Dad says: "So, I guess THE PHANTOM came and drew that Peace Sign on my wall, huh"?

Kids want to say: "Yes, it was the Phantom", but we don't have that much courage & we ain't that dumb...

Footnote: “The Phantom” did come to our house a lot. We were special. From time-to-time unexplainable things would happen around the house that none of us kids did. "The Phantom" was the only logical culprit. Most times it was Mom that suggested it might have been The Phantom, usually followed by something like: "Go to your rooms and wait 'til your father comes home."

So, now things escalate. Mom gets involved. No one is gonna go anywhere until this gets settled. The TV gets turned off. The clock ticks away. The interrogation session continues with no resolution. Threats are made. There is true fear that "the BELT" might be next. The dreaded, unspeakable Belt.

Perhaps 30-minutes into this, Dad suddenly vents all his frustration and anger in a way never heard before.

"Ok then... No one wants to admit to doing this... all my kids are Liars... so CHRISTMAS IS CANCELLED!!!"

"Lois, get the presents Santa already brought and bring them to the kitchen. We're gonna give them to the church."

"There will be NO CHRISTMAS is this house."

"Oh Daddy.... Noooooo!!!"
"Please, Daddy... Don't cancel Christmas."

I'm sure that Mom tried to soften things a little, to no avail.

"Hon, don't ya think we better talk about this in the kitchen for a minute..?"

"Talk?? No, I'm done talking! There will be no Christmas in this house this year...!!"

Looking back, I can't help but laugh at the whole thing. But at that moment, all LIFE seemed to be over. This was real. No Christmas! Who even heard of such a thing? No baby Jesus. No Santa Claus. No tree. No Trains.

One of us protested: "This isn't fair".

Another joined in: "Why are you going to punish all of us?"

One of the younger kids said: "You mean Santa isn't gonna come to our house this year?"

There was crying and tears. Was it possible "the Belt" could be a lesser punishment than this?

More time passed with each of us stunned and shocked and silent, unless spoken to. Then we were sent to our rooms and ordered to be quiet.

Looking back on all this, it's funny to now know what a total bluff this had to be. There is no way Dad could have survived a year without Christmas. He loved Christmas. Mom too. Years later he must have laughed at himself for his foolishness of backing himself into such a corner. But, at that moment, I'm sure he saw it as a test of wills -- and Dad never lost a battle of will-power.

After some time, kids started to quietly emerge for private pleas, mostly to Mom. As part of this, the appeal for a "trial" was made. "We should have everyone draw a Peace sign on a piece of paper, then compare each drawing against the one on the wall." It was an idea borne out of TV's "Perry Mason" and detective shows like "Dragnet" and "Adam-12". There was surely a "Leave it to Beaver" element and a touch of "Little Rascals".

Somehow, Mom and Dad bought the idea.

We were all called back to the living room and asked to take paper and crayon and draw our own version. We were even allowed to look at each others drawing and the “art” on the wall. We dutifully wrote our names on the top of each paper-drawing, just as if we were in 3rd grade. Each paper was turned-into Mom for "analysis".

Now, as you probably know, a Peace symbol from the 60's is drawn as a circle, with a straight-line running top-to-bottom, that has two feet near the bottom.

So, it looks like this:

Well, the art on the wall was unique. It wasn't quite a perfect Peace Symbol.

It was off a little.

So, each of us draws a correct Peace Symbol, except for one.

To this day I still don't understand why the guilty party didn't at least copy the rest of us and draw their version correct. It would have meant stale-mate... no evidence... no self-incrimination... But, that's not what happened. Instead, the same flaw on the wall art ended-up on the new paper drawing. Guilty-party identified instantly.... Case Closed.... Christmas saved!!

After Thought:

Can you just image the bedtime chat between Dad and Mom that night? Hopefully the whole thing gave them a good laugh...

This story is mostly true, with names left out to protect both innocent and guilty.

Granted, after 40 years I tend to remember the funny parts more than the painful parts.

Some recall of exact events might be influenced by that tendency to focus away from the really bad stuff.

Today I love and enjoy each of my Brothers and Sisters, and the memories of Mom & Dad shine bright.

~ tom