Shriners in Santa roles give gifts to children with disabilities. |
It was even better that my mother,
now 98 and living in an adult foster care home in Shelby Township, was there
with me decades ago when the Shriners made the dreams of children with
disabilities come true.
Teachers at Detroit’s two major
schools for children with disabilities in the 1950s told us a couple of weeks
before Christmas that we could ask for a present that should cost $3 or less
and the Shriners would make sure Santa
got the word.
On the Friday before Christmas
vacation began, we were taken from the schools by buses to the swanky Statler
Hotel in downtown Detroit where the Shriners had a big Christmas party
arranged. The buses lined the entire street and police officers were on duty to
watch them and help us, if need be, get into the beautiful hotel.
We had a wonderful meal at long
tables with white linen where turkey, ham, mashed potatoes and other good food
was served. Each year, we got the same desert – a couple of scoops of vanilla
ice cream with chocolate syrup swirled on top.
After dinner, Christmas Carol in a
red outfit with faux fur on the skirt bottom would come down the aisle where we
were sitting in folding chairs next to our mother, dad, or foster parent. One
of Santa’s talented helpers played Christmas songs on the stage in front of us and
we sang along with him and Christmas Carol. A Shriner, always with a big smile,
would encourage us: “Come on kids, sing louder. Santa loves to hear your
voices.”
After an hour or so, “Here Comes
Santa” was played by the piano man and we’d all look for Santa. He was so tall
and fat and by using his magic he was able to carry a giant bag of gifts. We
could hardly contain ourselves because we knew Santa was real and he was about
to give us a gift.
Now I think how much more simple
those times were then today. We were happiest, I think, because of the love
shown by the Shriners.
After other children received their
gift from Santa, it was my turn.
One of Santa’s helpers brought me
my first plastic chess set. The pieces had green felt bottoms and the gift included
a wooden chess board. “You don’t have to worry about Santa,” mother said. “He
always knows what children want.”
I kept that set for years and
remember that my second-grade teacher, Mrs. Otto at Leland School, taught me
how to play.
Some girls received dolls. Other
boys had Wilson baseball gloves which I recall cost about $3.11 in 1952, but no
one left empty-handed.
We’d return to the buses and it was
always a great ride home with my gift in one hand and mother Carol sitting next
to me holding my other hand.
Jerry
Wolffe is the Writer-in-Residence, Advocate-at-Large at the Macomb-Oakland
Regional Center.