It was Christmas, 1948, and my Daddy was home from the war. I huddled close to him and Mama in the cold, crowded street as we watched our special hometown Christmas parade. A feeling of good will and peace had made this a Christmas to celebrate and never before had there been such a crowd on the main street of our small southern town of Salisbury.
My five-year-old heart pounded as my big strong Daddy held me high above the crowd and managed to stand me on the fire engine just in front of Santa Claus. The jolly old man in the red velvet suit handed me a candy cane — my very own candy cane. Suddenly someone shouted, “Look!” I turned just as a photographer snapped a picture.
The next day we all stared with delight at our Salisbury Post newspaper. There on the front page, for all the world to see, was a picture of me standing on the back of the big red fire engine with Santa Claus. Surrounded by a crowd of people, both young and old, sharing in this special moment of joyous celebration, I gazed at the camera with wide-eyed amazement.
Excited about their little girl being on the front page of the newspaper, my parents purchased a copy of the photo, which became a part of our Christmas decorations. The photo was packed away and eventually forgotten as the years passed. Little did we know how very special this photo would be in the years to come.
It was Christmas, 1959, and I was dating a young man I had met a few months earlier when I entered high school. He was a junior in high school, driving a car, and very handsome. At 16 years of age, I was just beginning to explore the grown-up world of boys and dating.
We had been to the Christmas parade and returned to his home to warm up and to exchange our gifts to each other. His mother was just putting the finishing touches on their decorations as we arrived.
The entire house was cozy-warm and filled with the delightful aroma of cookies baking in the oven. She prepared us some hot chocolate and apple spice cake as we investigated the mountain of presents under the tree and admired all the bright new decorations.
Glancing around the room I noticed a framed photo that I had not seen before, hanging in a prominent place over his mother’s red velvet love seat. I took a closer look, and, to my surprise, I saw my big amazed eyes staring back at me from the photo taken so long ago with Santa Claus on the big, red fire engine.
I laughed and asked why they had my photo hanging their wall, thinking they were playing a good joke on me.
They were as surprised at my reaction as I was to see my photo on their wall.
That was not a picture of me, they explained, but a picture of the young man I was dating. Sure enough, there he was, center front, munching on his very own candy cane from Santa Claus. That night he had made his way through the sea of people to the big, red fire engine and climbed up for his very own candy cane.
His family had purchased the photo from the local newspaper and made it a part of their Christmas decorations just as my family had.
We did not know each other nor even met until 11 years later. Yet, even in that massive crowd, we had been close enough to have our picture taken together. We had even been close enough to reach out and touch each other.
The young man in the photo, my high school sweetheart and my first love, asked me to marry him two years after I saw the photo in his home. After 40 years we are still sharing the photo year round with our three children. As they grow through the years, building memories and families of their own, they love to hear the story of the photo and of that wonderful glorious Christmas when the paths of their Mom and Dad first crossed.
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