A Kids Life in the 1940s, Part 5

The holidays started in the fall with Halloween. I don’t quite remember my first Halloween, or the costume - maybe a pirate, but several of us were escorted from house to house on Lafountain. A couple older ladies, sisters I think, lived across the street. They offered cookies and a paper cup of coke. I was wearing a stiff mask made of course gauze, common in those days. It had a small slit for the mouth. The cookie went through the hole without problem, but as much coke soaked into the mask as made it to my mouth. It never occurred to me to take it off.

In subsequent years we abandoned the Treats for Tricks. The usual trick for those early days was just knocking on doors and then running away. One year we learned of tick-tack-toe. That was the name given to a trick using a wooden sewing spool. We would notch the outer edges, wind a string around it, run a pencil through the hole, hold it to a window glass, and pull the string. It made a harsh rattling sound. We got a bit carried away with it and repeatedly returned to the Brunk house because they were handily next door. Don Brunk finally chased me down, held me to the ground and made me promise to quit - the others got away. Mostly it was a fun night running excitedly through back yards. I think it was Bob Hundley who was the only casualty. A clothes line caught him across the throat on one of our nightly escapades. He went vertical for a short instant and then landed hard on his back - no permanent damage though.

I was a true believer in Santa Claus. I once passionately argued his existence with Bob Hundley as we walked toward downtown Kokomo. I was seven and he, being two years older, was worldly and scoffed at the idea. He was adamant, but I was equally insistent that I would never usurp Santa’s position by trying to take his place. I would, by golly, stay in bed and let Santa do his thing for my children. I did not realize it then but that conversation probably sewed the seed, and my youthful images of sugar canes and that magical time of the year started to fade. Within the next year or two I became sophisticated to the ways of the world and Christmas was never the same.

The best part of Christmas was the anticipation. The pressure grew with each passing day. By Christmas Eve the spell was cast. We wandered in a daze of delight, and expectation. Don and I would go to bed at eight or nine trying to sleep through the early useless period. One O’clock would come and we would be up - our first foray. It was never successful. There was nothing new under the tree. Mom and Dad were still up and would send us back to bed. The raids continued through the night, sometimes no more than on half-hour intervals. Eventually, about three or four in the morning, we would venture out to find that Old Saint Nick had again successfully made his appearance while we dreamed of sugar plums and other such things. We knew he had been there because the Christmas tree had new, unwrapped gifts around it. Psychologically, things started down hill after that. At that instant one would hear squeals of joy, the tearing of gift wrapping paper, exclamations of delight, etc, but the feeling of anticipation faded quickly. The best part of Christmas morning is before it gets there.

We got our J.C. Higgins bicycles for Christmas in 1948. The ad to the left shows a bike like the two we saw standing in front of the tree. The room was shadowy, but they glittered in the glow of the Christmas lights - shinny two-tones - purple and tan. We hadn’t expected them, so their appearance that Christmas morning took us by surprise. Don and I stood transfixed. I said something like “Pinch me, I canned believe it” Mom and Dad heard my exclamation and laughed about it for years.

Each bike took six D batteries to run the headlights, taillights and horn, so we started out with each bike fully charged. My bike took some hits almost from the first day as I was a bit small to ride a full size 26 inch bike. There were many crashes as I learned to ride. Sometime afterward, maybe a year or so, we were with Mom in Kresge’s Five & Dime store on the town square when she stopped to talk to a woman she knew. When the woman heard that we had received our bicycles last Christmas she said something like “Christmas is just not quite the same for kids after they get their bikes”. Don and I both agreed and said we thought the woman must be very wise.