By Willard Boschman – Saskatoon, Sask.
On Dec. 24, 1946, my brother Arnold was 11 years old, Marvin was 10, I was eight, my sister Lola was four, and James was two. We lived at a country school called Neuhoffnung. My dad, John, was the teacher. This school was seven miles south of Langham and about 15 miles west of Saskatoon.
The schoolyard consisted of the two-room school and a teacherage where we lived. There were three barns for the school kids to stable their horses and two outhouses. We had a horse named Pat and a cow named Popeye. They were stabled in one of the barns.
Christmas Eve found us kids in bed upstairs by about 11 p.m. It was very late for us, but due to all the excitement, it was hard to get sleepy at the usual time.
Around midnight or so, we were awakened by strange noises and when we finally came out of the fogginess of deep sleep, there was Santa Claus, standing right in our bedroom.
He turned and waived to the window
My Mom, Edith, was also there. Santa waltzed around the room a few times, did some Ho-Ho-Ho-ing, asked us if we had been good children. He wished us a Merry Christmas, gave mom a big hug and a kiss, and was gone.
We were back under the covers, basking in the glow of what had just happened when we heard bells ringing and more Ho-Ho-Ho-ing outside. We rushed to the window and saw Santa leaving the yard, driving Pat, who was hitched to the stoneboat. He had huge bag beside him.
Santa turned and waved to the window and disappeared into the night. Arnold and Marvin may have inwardly known who Santa was, but Lola, James, and I really believed.
I often think back to that night and marvel at all the effort dad put into that late night escapade. Just imagine having to harness (and later unharness and put away) the horse, finding and donning the Santa suit, and finding and stuffing a huge bag with ‘gifts,’ bells ringing somehow loud enough to get us to the window!
It was truly a magical Christmas that year.
