All It Cost Was A DOLLAR

By Don Broome

In the year and a half before my dad died, my Mother was busy working at the hospital as an RN and floor supervisor and taking care of him. My Dad, who was a big man at 265 lbs. dwindle to 94 lbs. before he died in April, 1964. Christmas 1964, I was a senior at Huntsville high school, left pretty much to myself, I had enormous freedom and came and went when I pleased.

I was working almost full time at the Wynn Dixie located at Haysland Square. I was the first hourly employee hired at that store. With no one at home in the evening, I often would go for long drives out in the country. The only radio station that had good reception was WEUP and I would listen to their talk programs and music and just kind of get away from the hell at home. This one night, the subject was the plight of the Harris Home. Mrs. Chessie Harris, an old woman at the time, had a heart that couldn’t say no. She had, I think around 13 children that nobody wanted, giving them love and care. The program went on to say that Oakwood College had given her an old house to use but the college was too poor to offer anything else. There was to be no Christmas at the Harris Household, and no Christmas Dinner.

I guess this story could have ended there or have been forgotten altogether if. You see grocery stores at the time, Christmas was gravy time, bag boys got really big tips for carrying out the groceries . Half dollars, or even an occasional silver dollar were common. We all had our pockets stuffed with all they could hold by the end of the day. It just so happened that this was a very cold Christmas and out front was this angel ringing her bell with the Salvation Army kettle. All of the bag boys wanted to see what she would look like without that great big bulky coat on. I suggested that if we all would empty one pocket into her kettle, she would come in to wait for a pick up and would take her coat off. The first part of our plan worked perfectly. We filled up her kettle and she came in to wait for a pick up, but she never took her coat off. What made me think about Harris Home was the frozen tear on that lovely angel. What we had done with one pocket apiece affected all of us that way.

Mr. Whitt, our store manager was surprised when I asked him what he would sell me a flat of the day old bread for. Asked me what I wanted with it. I told him about the program and he told me a dollar. He was going to have to say that a lot in the next few days. I asked about that old candy leftover from Easter, Halloween etc. A DOLLAR. Hey, how much for a cart of bent cans. A DOLLAR. After five or six carts he stopped us. The Christmas tree in the lobby; all decorated yep A DOLLAR. Two Turkeys TWO DOLLARS. There were five or six cars that left the store Christmas Eve, including a van with a Christmas Tree all were loaded with people and goods.

The house was out in the country back then and as we pulled in, it seemed like we were encircling the house. I looked in through the glass in the door and there was an old gentleman rocking by the cast iron stove. We knocked softly until he heard us, not wanted to wake the children. When he came to the door, there was fear in his eyes, not knowing what a bunch of white teenagers were doing out in the country on Christmas Eve. He asked me who we were and I told him “Santa Claus”. As we brought in load after load of groceries, he sat back in his rocker with tears running down his cheeks as I heard him saying over and over “Lauds a mercy, Lauds a mercy”.

That Christmas, that was going to be so sad, turned into one of my most cherished memories. And to think it only cost each of us a dollar.

A thought I’ve had many times since that night is that we gave and put out effort one time and have relived that wonderful moment of sharing over and over.

Don Broome