Another Kid’s Fire Engine

By Robert Taege, Cape May.
My father had a candy and ice cream store in Hillsdale in 1939. At Christmas we also sold toys for children. I could hardly wait for the time when Dad would say, “Let’s go get the car, we are going to Jersey City to pick up toys for the store. It was not too easy of a task to crank the car in the winter time (a 1929 Dodge) but I didn’t care. I would help pick up toys for the store.
When we arrived at the warehouse, I jumped out of the car and ran upstairs to the toy section. Running through the aisles, I stopped short after spotting a fire engine with a hook-and-ladder, a siren and flashing lights. I scooped it up and ran to Dad and said, “I think we should get this for the store.”
When we got back to our store, Dad told me to put some of the toys in the front window (including my fire engine) to attract people into buying the toys. Later that day, I noticed a little boy with his nose pressed against the window, looking at my fire engine. By the looks of his clothing and shoes and hat, he obviously came from a poor family. Every day I would go to the window to make sure my fire engine was still there.
Christmas Eve came along and Dad told me to get the fire engine out of the window and wrap it up in Christmas paper. I thought, “It isn’t every boy who gets to wrap his own present.”
After closing the store that evening, Dad said, “Let’s go get the car and bring the fire engine with you.” When we got into the car, Dad drove to a poorer section of the town and stopped in front of a shabby- looking house. Then he told me to ring the doorbell and leave the fire engine on the front steps.
I could not believe what he had done to me. I sure was very angry. The front door light came on and a man came out with the little boy between his legs. The boy saw the package, scooped it up and ran into the house. I did not think I could ever forgive my Dad.
The next day (Christmas Day) we were open half a day for people to come and get any presents at the last moment. About an hour after opening, in came the man with the little boy holding my fire engine in his hands. The man came over to Dad and took Dad’s hand in both of his and with tears in both their eyes he simply said, “Thank you, Merry Christmas.”
Dad turned to me and said, “That is what Christmas is all about, giving not receiving.” I looked at my Dad and he still had tears in his eyes and so did I. For a 7-year-old kid, I sure learned a valuable lesson. It is better to give than receive. I sure hope that little boy enjoys his fire engine. Merry Christmas.