Christmas through the Eyes of a Child

Being born in 1937, people were still feeling the effects of the Depression. Most people today are not aware the Depression lasted a full 10 years. However, the economy did rebound when the U.S.A. entered the Second World War.
Most children in those years were not conscious of the fact families were hard hit, as it was not really talked about, but we as kids knew you did not ask for anything; if a kid did, the usual answer was “We can’t afford it.” So that was all that was needed to be said. 
I’m really not quite sure if I was naive or just not used to a lot of things to play with or receive an abundant choice of gifts at Christmas.
I can remember that my one and only doll would disappear sometime in late October or early November.  My mother’s oldest sister, who lived in West Philadelphia, was a very good seamstress. 
She, my Aunt Ida, was the oldest of 18 children and my Mom was the youngest. My maternal grandmother having died in 1933, I never knew her; consequently Aunt Ida became my grandmother in her place.
Aunt Ida and Uncle Perry, had two children both of whom died quite young, and I, being the youngest girl of all the cousins, became, when looking back now, their pride and joy.
On Christmas Eve, my father, the Boy Scout leader, along with several other men involved with the Scouts and the Girl Scouts would go to “The Little Sisters of the Poor” home for the elderly on Church Lane in Germantown. 
They would sing Christmas carols going from room to room and the infirmary. The woman got a bar of “Sweetheart Soap” and the men got white pocket handkerchiefs.
Needless to say, my Mom who was home preparing dinner, was anxious for my Dad to get home as there was so much to be done. The Christmas tree was not put up until all the children were in bed, also the platform with the trains and the village had to be erected.
There were lead figurines, trees, mountains for trains to go through and, of course, artificial snow covering the village. Last but not least, was a full-size cardboard Santa placed out of the porch roof with a spot light for the neighborhood to see.
In the living room was an artificial fireplace made out of some type of corrugated board. 
At last Christmas morning came and next to the fireplace was a wooden table and two chairs, which my father made, set with my tea set, and low and behold, there, what I thought was  a brand-new doll. She was “Little Red Riding Hood” with a velvet cape and hood.
This ritual went on for many years, before I realized it was my one and only old doll.
I guess we lived in a simpler and much more innocent time, but I wouldn’t change any of those memories for all the gadgets today.  
Keenan writes from Court House.