Men don't cry (excerpt)

Every Christmas Eve, our whole family (parents, brother, aunts, uncles, cousins, Grandfather and grandmother) would gather together to celebrate.  It was usually an elaborate event with all the parents bringing gifts for their own family for Santa to put in his bag to hand out as if from him.  At one of these events (I think I was about 7 years of age) I watched in eager anticipation as Santa handed the gifts out to everyone.  I watched and waited for Santa to call my name so I could go up and get my gift.  I watched and waited as Santa emptied his bag. I watched and waited as Santa stood and said “Merry Christmas everyone” and I watched and waited as Santa turned around and walked out the door.

I felt like I didn’t belong there.  All the kids were happily playing with their gifts and all of the adults were opening their gifts.  Everyone was laughing and talking cheerily.  Everyone--- that is, except for me.  I couldn’t laugh----I couldn’t talk---I had this lump of emotion swelling up in my throat causing my eyes to tear up.  I just stood there---afraid to move for fear of being noticed by them and they would find out that Santa forgot me. I then slowly backed toward the hallway, which led to the bedrooms.  Once out of sight I went into one of the bedrooms and shut the door. 

Sitting on the bed, the tears welled up in my eyes until I couldn’t hold it back.  The bedroom door opened just as the tears started to flow.  It was my uncle Tony.  He was a short stocky man with a gruff personality and a short, fat cigar stub that seemed to always be attached to the corner of his mouth. His appearance was very intimidating and I was always somewhat afraid of him.  He sat on the bed next to me and asked me “what was wrong?”  When I told him that I didn’t get a gift from Santa, he suggested that maybe Santa dropped it outside and he would go check.

He owned a hardware store not too far away and  he went to that store (unknown to me at the time)and selected his best NFL football and drove back to Gramps house.  He came into the bedroom with a big smile on his face. 'Look! I found it!  I found it outside on the ground---that Santa, he must have dropped it.  Look your name is written on it.”  I felt much better but I always suspected he went to his store to get the football for me.  I was never afraid of him again and I never forgot what he did.