After
Charles returned from school one day, he and Robert were playing Blob when
their mother announced that they were going to the Masonic Lodge to see Santa
Claus that evening. Blob was a game that the boys had invented. In previews at
the movie theater in the nearby town of Oxford, enough of the plot of the movie
by the same name had been revealed to suggest the game, without necessitating a
viewing of the horror film—which their mother would never have permitted,
anyway.
One of the
brothers was designated “the Blob.” He covered himself with an old blanket and
huddled on the floor while the other brother hid. Then the Blob searched for
the hidden brother. While he searched, he periodically knelt and rolled around
on the floor while keeping the blanket over him. When he found the brother, his
object was to cast the blanket over him while making horrifying snarling
sounds. If he failed to get the blanket to fall over his brother, he had to
crouch beneath the blanket and make muttering noises until his brother had a
chance to hide again. The search repeated. If he was lucky enough to drop the
blanket over his brother, the brother became the Blob, and the proverbial
tables were turned.
With a
visit to Santa Claus in the offing, the brothers soon found themselves having
to dress in their Sunday best. Because temperatures were chilly, they had to
don long underwear. Robert had trouble folding the bottom of the leg of the
underwear and stuffing it inside his sock. After he had pulled on his woolen
trousers, he had to put on his corrective shoes and tie their laces. His mother
had repeatedly demonstrated how to form a loop and to hold it in one hand while
doubling the other end through the loop so as to form a second loop. Robert could
almost achieve that much, but, when he tried to pull the two loops tight, the
end of the one he had doubled invariably slipped through the first loop. He was
left with one loop, a loose knot, and a long strand of lace that he would trip
over, if he were to leave things as they were.
On his own,
Robert had learned to form one loop in one hand and a second loop in his other
hand and to tie the two loops together. He assumed (incorrectly) that speed was
important, so he practiced forming the loops as rapidly as possible. That way,
he could tell his mother, “See? My way is just as fast.” Ida wanted him to tie
his shoes the way she had shown him, and she made him try and try again.
Finally, Robert’s father said, “Ida, he gets his shoes tied just as nicely his way
as our way. Why not let him have his way?” Reluctantly, she consented. (Robert
would tie his shoes his way for the rest of his life!)
On this
occasion, Robert tied his shoes successfully. Next, his brother and he had to
zip up their parkas, put on their stocking caps, slip the hoods of their parkas
over the stocking caps, wrap their mufflers around their faces, and put on
their gloves. Charles and their mother climbed into the back seat of the 1950
Chevrolet, and Robert and their father took the front seat. Robert always got
“car sick” in the back, so he had to ride in the front. His mother thought it
was a reasonable concession to put Robert in front.
The boys
were perspiring under their parkas, even after the short drive to the Masonic
Lodge. The two-story building was on the south side of an alley that led
westward from State Route 55 not far from the intersection of State Route 26.
Some thirty years earlier, the first floor had served as Ray Ogborn’s garage
and automotive repair shop. The boys’ grandmother Kosie had a brother, Charles
Albert Cobb, nicknamed Charley or Cobbie, who died in 1931. His widow, Margaret
Wagner, was the beloved family member that the boys and their parents called
“Great Aunt Margaret.” She eventually had married the veterinarian, Doc
Goddard, but he, too, died before the boys were born. Residents of the town
continued to refer to her as Mrs. Margaret Goddard. Ray Ogborn had purchased
the automotive business, but not the building, from Charley, so Great Aunt
Margaret transferred ownership of the first floor to her sister Louise and
Louise’s husband, Pete Thurman.
To reach
the Masonic rooms on the second floor, the boys and their parents trudged down
the dark alley. Robert kept turning his head from side to side so that he could
see beyond the fake fur that surrounded the hood. Half dead vines shuddered in
the cold breeze along the brick wall. Traces of snow highlighted the weeds
along the foundation of the building across from the Masonic Lodge. The family
passed through a doorway at the very back of the old building and started up
the dimly illuminated stairs. Robert tripped more than once. Several of the
steps creaked.
They
entered the main hall. A huge potbelly stove stood in the center of the room.
So much wood had been fed to it that it was glowing red in places and was
radiating a tropical heat that melted the frost on the tall windows. Chairs
were pushed back around the walls. The boys were thankful to remove their
coats, but, even then, they were too hot. They waited patiently for Santa
Claus. Well, they knew that this was not the real Santa. He came without being seen on Christmas Eve and left
presents for the boys in their very own home. This Santa was a well-meaning
member of the lodge. Soon, they heard him ho-ho-hoing. To the adults’ applause,
he burst upon the gathering. He was wearing a flimsy Santa costume with a
rather poor excuse for a cotton beard, but he was most certainly jolly! He
handed small gifts and candy to all the children. The leader of the lodge said
a few inspiring words about Christmas, and the event was over. The adults stood
conversing with one another far longer than Robert’s patience could hold out,
but he knew better than to tug on his mother’s sleeve. Eventually, Ida smiled
down at Charles and Robert and asked, “Are you boys ready to go home?” They
nodded politely.
On went the
parkas, the stocking caps, the mufflers, and the gloves. Once the family was
back inside the Chevrolet, Ida suggested that they see the Christmas lights.
Joe drove around Pine Village, which took relatively little time, as the town
was quite small. Next, he headed north on State Route 55 all the way to Oxford.
The stores that year were carrying GE “ice bulbs,” which were pale blue
Christmas lights that were shaped like globes and covered with “ice crystals,”
as they were called, and Elvis’ recording of “Blue Christmas” had been playing
on radio stations for two years. Even so, the family was surprised when Joe
drove past Doc Scheurich’s ranch house in the woods just to the south of
Oxford. All blue lights outlined the home! The blue was such a departure from
the multi-colored bulbs that the boys and their parents were impressed.
Once the
family was home, Joe played 45 RPM records on the Victrola, which resembled a
piece of furniture and which had an honored place in the living room. Twin
doors with ornamental ovals in the gleaming finish swung open to reveal a radio
and record player, as well as a fabric-covered speaker, on the right and
shelves for storing 45 records on the left. Bing Crosby’s “White Christmas” was
a favorite!
Christmas
Eve fell on Wednesday, and the family went to the Methodist Church for the
evening service. Joe’s father, Seymour, had come from Indianapolis to spend the
holiday with Joe, Ida, and the boys. Grandpa Rhode gave everyone a ride in his
black 1951 Hudson Commodore 8 Sedan. The family disembarked from the
comfortable car and took the stairs to the sanctuary. For the remainder of his
life, Robert would retain a detailed memory of how holy the church appeared
that night. Candles stood in the windowsills, and their flames reflected from
the undulations in the stained glass. Real evergreen boughs surrounded them,
and the scent of pine filled the room. People spoke softly as they took their
seats along the pews. Mrs. Brutus, the organist, launched into “Hark! The
Herald Angels Sing.” Everyone stood and began to sing. Robert long remembered
the twinkle in his father’s eyes and the sparkling light reflected in the
glistening eyes of his mother, whom the song touched deeply.
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