A Gift from Mrs. Morgenstern

“We have one really old ornament."

“It’s a reindeer from Germany.”

December 23, 1947

Mrs. Morgenstern lives in the other side of our house.  I liked it better before she moved in because we could use that living room, too. It has a fireplace and even though it doesn’t work anymore, it looks good. Last year, when I was eight, our Christmas tree stood beside that fireplace and we hung our stockings on the mantle.

This year, we had to put the tree in the corner of our regular living room. It’s good because we’ll be able to see it through the archway from the dining room when we have Christmas dinner. I don’t know where we’ll hang our stockings.

  Mrs. Morgenstern doesn’t have a Christmas tree.  Mommy says she doesn’t believe in Christmas, and besides she is going away to New York City for a while.

  Our tree is not like the one the Tyler’s across the road have.  They invited us over last Saturday to see its extra long needles. I had never seen such long ones.  Their tree sticks way out into the room and has blue lights shaped like candles with liquid inside.  They bubble when you plug them in.  The lights and the whole tree are covered with white fluff they call angel hair. 

  I told them, “It’s nice.”

  But I like ours better. It is a regular pine tree and tall, with a colored tinfoil star at the bottom of each light bulb.  There are balls and snowflakes and icicles made of tiny silver springs.  We have one really old ornament.  It’s a reindeer from Germany.

It took Mommy, Daddy, Wanda, and me just about all Sunday afternoon to get our tree to stand up.  We put a big bucket in the middle of a galvanized washtub and put the tree in the bucket. After we filled in with dirt, we put big heavy rocks all around so it can’t fall down. Then, we decorated it.

  Daddy gave me two branches he cut off the bottom of our big tree and I stood them back-to-back in a big coffee can filled with dirt to make a tree for my dolls.

  I’m not allowed to bring my dolls downstairs to play by our big tree.  There are too many, and besides when I was little, Daddy told me if I put my dolls under the tree, Santa Claus would take them away.  Of course, that’s not true, but it means I’m not supposed to put them there.

  I always get a new doll for Christmas, and this year I want a Betsy Wetsy.   Mommy says I probably won’t get it because they are expensive. 

  Alice came over after school on Monday, and we made little red and green paper chains for the dolls’ tree.  Mommy gave me her old red and gold beads to hang on it and I made a star out of tinfoil for the top. 

  On Wednesday, when Mrs. Morgenstern came over to see our big tree, Mommy plugged in the lights so she could see it the way it’s supposed to look.  She looked at it for a long time, touched the icicles, and asked about the reindeer.  Mommy took it off the tree and let Mrs. Morgenstern hold it.  Mommy told her she has had it since she was a little girl and her mother had it when she was little, too.  It came from Germany. 

  Mrs. Morgenstern looked at the reindeer and touched its antlers, face, body, and feet. Then she hung it back on the tree.     

  Mommy said to me, “Honey, why don’t you show Mrs. Morgenstern your dolls’ Christmas tree upstairs?”

  Oh, no.  Do I have to?

  I don’t know why Mommy wanted me to show Mrs. Morgenstern my tree.  I hardly even know her, so why would she want to go up to my room? The little tree looks nice for dolls, but I didn’t think she would like it much.

  But I tookl her up, and she smiled when she saw the paper chains and touched the beads and said, “Oh, isn’t that pretty!” 

  She asked if she could sit in my little rocking chair and said she wanted to meet my dolls.  She asked me to tell her their names.

  It seemed funny that she wanted to see my dolls, but I took Mary Ann to her, the oldest one who I got for Christmas when I was five.  She has a cloth body, and she cries when you bend her over.  Her hair isn’t very nice anymore because I tried to comb it once, but her eyes still open and shut. 

  Mrs. Morgenstern held her while I got Sarah Elizabeth and showed her the new coat and hat Mommy made her, and then my bride doll Ann, with the cracked stomach that doesn’t really matter because nobody sees it, and Connie, and Jack the Dutch boy doll, and Pocahantas, and Heidi, and Suzie.  She held them and talked to them—all twelve—even Teddy Bear and Shirley Temple, who used to be my sister’s doll.

  Mrs. Morgenstern left on the train the next morning.  

Today, twelve tiny doll-sized envelopes came in the mail—postmarked New York, New York. The envelopes are so small there’s hardly room for the address and a three-cent stamp!

  “Mistress Mary Ann Woodworth, Hubbell Corners, Roxbury, New York.”

“Mistress Sarah Elizabeth Woodworth, Hubbell Corners, …”

“Mistress Connie Woodworth, …”

“ Master Jack Woodworth…”

  “ ‘Master’!  Why, ‘Master’?” I ask Mommy.  

  “That’s what they used to call little boys when they were too young to be called ‘Mister,’” she answers.

  “Oh.”

  I open the envelope for Mary Ann and there is a folded card inside with a candy cane on the front. On the inside, it says, “Merry Christmas from Mrs. Morgenstern,” written in ink. 

  Three cards are candy canes, two are jingle bells, four are Christmas trees, two are puppies with ribbons around their neck and one is a kitten with a ball of yarn.

  Mrs. Morgenstern hardly even knows me and she sent every one of my dolls a Christmas card from New York City!   And she remembered all their names! 

Why would she do that?

“Look, Mary Ann. Look what Mrs. Morgenstern sent you! Jack, this is your Christmas card! It came in the mail. Let’s open it…”