The Miracle of Christmas 1938
Author Unknown
Raymond, Alberta, Canada
December 24, 1938, and in Raymond it was a beautiful day, hardly any snow and a warm Chinook wind blowing.
To three bushy tailed starry eyed youngsters from Saskatchewan, Raymond was the biggest city in the world. How exciting it all was. A long train ride from Saskatoon to Lethbridge, a new school, new friends, and it was Christmas Eve.
Not so excited were our parents, however. Like hundreds of families before us, we had left our burned out farm and migrated to Southern Alberta, to what we hoped would be “a land of promise”. However due to circumstances beyond anyone’s control, the fact of the matter was that we, the Petrac family, were penniless and broke.
In her ways of wisdom and love, our mother had already told us that Christmas would be very bare because, having moved so quickly, Santa Claus would likely not find out where we lived.
Well, maybe our mother knew a lot about loving and raising children, and cooking good meals and keeping a neat house, but she didn’t know a thing about Santa Claus. There was no way he was going to overlook us, we three children were certain of that. I made my first trip to Main Street, Raymond, and looked at the exciting displays of toys in the window of Stones Hardware Store and the Mercantile. I spent most of my time watching the electric train go round and round in the Fromm’s Jewelry Store window. I was excited as were, I’m sure, my older brother and sister, Jerry and Agnus. Two youngsters were at home and weren’t really aware of what was happening.
I was just seven and all fall I had this horrible earache. Finally, on the 24th mother marched downtown to the drugstore to pick up something that might help my ear. She explained to Percy Cope, of Cope’s Drug Store, what she needed and her lack of funds to pay for it. Percy listened carefully then gave her the medicine and a bag of candy for us children. That was it, as far as the Petrac Christmas was concerned.
About two o’clock in the afternoon there came a pounding at the door. Out of curiosity, I accompanied my mother to the door. When she opened it, I saw the biggest man I had ever seen in my life. He had a gruff, big voice to match his size.
“I’ve got a load of coal here, where do you want it?” he asked.
My mother assured him that he had made a mistake. We had not ordered coal nor did we have money to pay for it.
“If you are Mrs. Petrac, the coal is for you. Now where do you want it? And a Merry Christmas to you.” he added, more gently.
The Christmas miracle of 1938 had begun.
We learned later that the first caller, the big man, with the coal was Bill Rouse, a man with a heart as big as his stature. After that it was unbelievable, people coming and going from our front door all afternoon, all evening, and well into the night. People came with gifts, with turkeys, with oranges, with candles, nuts and apples. People came by the dozens. Two delivery wagons came with their well known trotting horses from the Merc and Stones, with groceries galore. Later a choral group of young men and women came in and shouted, “Merry Christmas” and proceeded to set up and decorate a tree for us-- our very first Christmas Tree, and it was lighted with real candles. They sang carols while they decorated and during this time, Mother just stood there in shock and disbelief-- taking it all in with gratitude in her eyes such as I had never seen before.
This amazing Christmas Eve continued well into the night and then suddenly, about 11:30 pm there was a merry “HO HO HO” and Santa Claus appeared, right at our front door. I wasn’t surprised nor was I shocked. I knew he would show. By this time the snow had began to gently fall, making everything white, quiet and still. From the northwest of us the Carter family, of Raymond had a loud speaker system set up and was playing Christmas carols. What a beautiful Christmas. What a wonderful miracle it was and yes, I did get a little train. Not an electric one but a wind up one that ran on a circular track.
There never was and will never be another Christmas like it.
Santa Clause and Percy Cope (the mayor at the time) and dozens of citizens, found our home.
Mom and Dad, Jerry and Rose have gone on. There is only Agnus and Ruthy and myself left. But from all of us “Thank you. Raymond,” for teaching us that there really is a Santa Claus. Thank you to the dozens of people who took part in the miracle of Christmas 1938.
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