Excitement continued to mount throughout the whole month of December. Each day brought something new and the boxes kept filling up as the month crept on. Yesterday four boys brought in gifts for Michael age 10 and Steven the baby, 14 months. The presents for Karen, age 11 and Jennifer who was 4, were piling up too, all nicely wrapped for Christmas, all tagged with the name for each family child on it and the name of the child who gave the gift. The children in the class had drawn names. In that way each child would receive the same number of presents.
As the days rolled on the food boxes were filling up too; cereals, hot chocolate, jams and peanut butter, canned foods and other food gifts that would not spoil. The class had voted that two children would accompany Mrs. Bernstien, the class mother, and me to take our gifts of Christmas love to our family of four.
With the car all packed, we set off after school the day before holidays were to begin. Neither Mrs. Bernstein nor I had been to this part of the city before.
What a shocking surprise! This whole area had been expropriated, awaiting the city’s decision over the building of the Allan Expressway. It was an area of small flat-roofed shacks, with their hydro and telephone wires strung from one crudely built cabin to the next. I pushed the thought from my mind of what might happen if one of them suddenly caught fire. Surely this was Toronto’s social housing at its worst. At best, it was a far cry from the beautiful homes of Forest Hill, less than five miles from where we had just come.
Nevertheless we parked in front of a door bearing the number we had been given and heaved a sigh of hope that we would be welcomed and not turned away.
We knocked. “Hello”, I said to the lady as she timidly looked us over. “The boys and girls in my class would like to give you and your children some presents for Christmas. May we bring them in?”
The mother stood speechless as she nodded and her eyes filled with tears.
By the time we had finished carrying in all the boxes her children had huddled around her, Jennifer tugging on her skirt. Baby Steven, awakened by the noise and chatter, was beginning to fuss. While Mrs. Bernstein and I were laying out some candy canes, fruit and nuts, Susan and Allan were each holding up a present and showing the mother the names of the children.
“Oh!” said the mother in a faint voice. “I can’t believe it!” and as she gathered her children around her even more closely, she pointed to the boxes. “How can I ever thank you? We had nothing and you have made our Christmas!” she said, struggling to hold back even more tears.
“And you have made ours too”, said Suzy and Allan together.
As we drove quietly back to the school I could hear Suzy whisper to Allan. “I wish I could take them all home with me,” she said, and he whispered back, “Me too.”
