When I was ten years old, that was a very rough year for me. A lot happened to me that year, some of it very good and some of it very bad. I started the year out getting hit by a car in the neighborhood. It was my fault. I was riding my best friend, Janet's new blue Schwinn and I rode right out the end of her drive way and into traffic. I hurt my left knee, scraped it up good. From the outside, there were no other injuries so my Mom swabbed Mercurochrome on it and wrapped a bandage on it and sent me on my way with a warning not to be so stupid. Years later, of course, there was damage to that knee and I have a hard time with it ever since but that's neither here nor there.
That summer something else bad happened to me but I'm not going to go into that now. One huge bad thing that I will write about - it felt bad at the time - was that my Dad sold his bar/restaurant that had been my only home and moved us to the dreaded "South side" of town. South side at that time is pretty much midtown these days but back then moving anywhere south of 60th street seemed like a whole other city! I didn't want to go! I was leaving everything I knew and loved and I was NOT happy about it. My sister, the only other sibling left at home, couldn't care less. She was going to be one block from St. Joe's where she went to school and that was a good thing for her. I was going to St. George's, back in the old neighborhood. The only reason I didn't have to change school was because my mom taught second grade at St. George's. So I got to stay there. If I had lost that too I would have been a nutcase that year!
So, we moved. And guess what? I made new friends in my new neighborhood and they were all pretty cool kids. And the neighbor had a pool so I didn't really even miss Lake Michigan all that much.
Then came Christmas...
Now I'm not sure how my mom packed our stuff when we were moving. I know that for about two months we couldn't find my gym shoes so I got out of gym class for that! At Christmas, we always put each ornament back in it's original boxes and carefully placed in three large trunks. It was that way every single year. But the year we moved, we couldn't find our angel anywhere. We had the coolest old angel on our tree. I think my parents got it back in the 30's and she was a bit worse for wear but she looked like Greta Garbo in sparkles and when you got her on the tree she shined like a goddess and it all was right with the world. Putting that angel on the tree was the grand finale to decorating. She was the last piece...the one we all waited for...long after the last strand of tinsel had been placed. Once she was there we all stood back in childlike wonder. And now...we moved and she was GONE!!
I couldn't take it. After all the horrible things that I had been through that year I needed that angel. I needed that small tattered harbinger of hope that everything was going to be okay...but she was gone. I wailed. I cried. I accused my mom of throwing her away. I was inconsolable. My poor mom searched everywhere for that angel. She was just plain gone.
That was my dad's cue. Now my dad was a peace loving man. He never liked conflicts of any kind which, as a kid, often could work to my advantage. If I wanted something and my mom said no, I could pitch just enough of a fit to have my dad given in. I was sneaky like that sometimes. On this night, however, my dad was the knight to the rescue. He told me that this was a new home and a new year was coming and we had to make sure that our tree was ready for all the good changes that would be coming our way. He put on my coat and hat and took me right then and there to Wilson's. Now, if you are from Kenosha, you remember Wilson's. You could get anything there. Even a myna bird. They had a hundred angels to choose from. Well, to a grief stricken ten year old it seemed like hundreds. It was probably more like 15. My dad told me to take my time. He said this wasn't something you rushed because that angel was going to be with us for a long time and we wanted to make sure she was the special one with the special blessings. I looked at all of them. They were all very pretty. Some in white and gold, some in green and red. And then there was her. The one in white with silver trim. She held onto two small candles that actually lit up when she was plugged in. But her face...that was what got me. She had this tiny, half-knowing, comforting smile on her porcelain face. I knew instantly she was the one.
That angel was on our tree for the next 40 years. When my mother moved out of her home, I took that angel home with me. Last year, she sat in front of our tiny table top tree with her candles glowing hopefully in the night. This year, I couldn't find her. I know she is here somewhere, just as my mother knew our old angel was somewhere back when I was ten. Maybe that's how the angels do it. They are here when we need them most and then they simply disappear and it's time to find a new angel to bring you special blessing for the next part of your life.
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