Hilltown Postcards

A Yellow Toothbrush and a Box of Food for Christmas

Ah, Christmas: one holiday, so many emotions and circumstances. Happy Christmas. Sad Christmas. Rich Christmas. Poor Christmas. Stressful. Carefree. Lonely. Crowded. Weird Christmas.

I liked the ones we spend with our large family. Great food and laughs, gifts, and even one year, fireworks one daughter bought from the South where she lived.

We had a freshly cut tree with ornaments, many of them made by the kids. Why was one son’s Santa wearing gray and yellow? Because the red felt was already taken. Why did another son’s wooden Santa have a black, bandit’s mask? Just because.

We didn’t have a lot of money then, but we tried to buy thoughtful gifts we thought each child would enjoy.

On the Sunday before Christmas, the owners of the Corners Grocery would host Santa. We adults knew he was really Dave who lived in town, but for our kids who still believed, he was the real thing. 

Santa would station himself in the post office annex to greet kids and find out what they wanted. I recall one daughter asked for a yellow toothbrush. Don’t ask me why but we made sure she got one.

Christmas day was a mad dash for the kids to open their gifts and then we drove to my hometown to spend the holiday with my parents and to visit our extended family. When we lived in Ringville, the very helpful Win Donovan would visit our house to keep the fire going in the woodstove, our only source of heat, so the water pipes wouldn’t freeze.

I remember the Christmas after Hank was hurt on a job site a few months before. He fell 18 feet onto his shoulder because someone didn’t nail a board in place on the floor. He couldn’t work. The people who hired him as a subcontractor wouldn’t pay him while he was hurt.

After all those years staying home with six kids, I found a one-year teaching job. We kept things going with a starting teacher’s pay.

It was close to the holiday when we came home to find a large cardboard box on the doorstep of the house we were renting. It contained food and an envelope with $70 in cash.

We were stunned.

We asked around but no one would admit to it. This kind deed has not been forgotten.

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Life lessons

One good turn

When my job as editor-in-chief for one paper was expanded to two in January, it meant meeting and learning about the people who worked in the second newsroom. One of the first things I noticed was the paper towel dispenser in the women’s room. Huh, you say, but please stay with me.

When COVID-19 disrupted jobs, I still went to the office most of the time, as did a number of people. We just followed safety rules. That means anything from wearing your mask everywhere except at your desk to staying six feet away. And then there’s washing your hands a whole lot and drying them, which is how this story twists back to that paper towel dispenser

When it was time to wash and dry my hands the first time in the women’s room, I noticed somebody had thoughtfully left a couple of feet of paper toweling hanging down, which meant I didn’t have to use my wet hands on the lever. Instead, I got paper ready to dry my hands, and then I used the lever (with a towel) to leave paper for the next woman who would need it.

No, it doesn’t happen all the time because not every woman in the building does it although it is rare when I don’t see paper hanging. And sometimes I catch someone doing it. I always thank them.

My parents taught me good manners like saying “please” and “thank you,” which I find goes a long way. You give up your seat to someone who is a lot older. You hold the door for others. You find something nice to say about somebody. I believe I have passed that onto our kids, who are very good human beings.

But back to those paper towels. I make sure I leave toweling for the next person. Actually, I’ve started doing it in the women’s room of my first newsroom and will see if it catches on. It isn’t a big deal, but it is in a way, you know, because one good turn deserves another.

WRITING UPDATE: I am nearing the two-thirds mark for the fifth book in the Isabel Long Mystery Series. This one is called Working the Beat. You can check out my books on Amazon at this link: Joan Livingston books

 

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