This is my favorite Christmas story. It really happened to me and my brother, Tom, when we were very young children. I had planned to enter it on my Blog at Christmas this year but everything was just too hectic and I never found the time to do so. So here it is now after Christmas and I am still desirous of having it appear on my Blog. I wrote the experience in story form in the year 2000 and it was published in THE STORYTELLER MAGAZINE (a quarterly publication) in their October, November, December 2000 issue.

WHEN DADDY PAID THE BILL

By William B. Grove

Chism Webb didn't even look like Santa Claus. He was over six feet tall, thin as a rail and had no beard to cover his hatchet sharp face. I never, ever heard a "ho, ho, ho," out of him but with a laugh that sounded like a barn door opening on rusty hinges he wouldn't have sounded like Santa Claus anyway.


Chism Webb, or Chis, as everyone called him, owned the corner grocery store in our neighborhood. He was assisted in his labors by his mother, Granny Webb and his sister, Vee Webb. Vee was okay in my book; a typical old maid still looking. Granny was another story.

My childhood trips to the store were episodes of terror. Granny pulled her sparse, grey hair back tightly into a knot at the nape of her neck giving her head the appearance of a peeled onion. But when she invariably jumped from behind the meat counter or the candy counter and used her tongue to push her false teeth out at me she had all the look of a death's head. Catching me off guard with this trick was the highlight of her life and she'd cackle like a witch.

Chis was an old bachelor and didn't have much interest in kids. I'd always been afraid of him ever since I stole an orange and Mama marched me back inside to look up at that skinny giant and apologize for my thievery. He didn’t say a word; just took the orange and threw it over in the crate.

Each day during the week we bought our groceries on credit. Chis had a small lined sales book about four inches by six inches and a half inch thick with carbon paper in it. He'd list all of our purchases on a page and total it and give us the carbon copy. The original remained in the book that had our name written on it. The carbon copy of the sales slip was hung on a nail in our kitchen. Each Friday night Daddy added up all the sales slips and took them with him to the store to pay the bill. He always waited until eight thirty since the store closed at nine and it wouldn't be so busy at that time.

One Friday night I particularly remember was Christmas Eve and it wasn’t going to be any different from any other eve at our house. The country was in the throes of the great depression. Mom and Dad had prepared me and my three year old brother, Tom, for the fact that there would be no toys this year. Santa Claus was hit by the depression too. A five year old and a three year old don't comprehend much about financial matters but we had been forewarned------"No presents this year!"

So on this Christmas Eve Friday night Daddy took me with him as usual to the store to pay the bill. He pulled open the door, we stepped inside and Daddy said, "Merry Christmas, Chis."

"And Merry Christmas to you fellows," Chis replied.
"Been busy tonight?" Dad asked.
"No, every body's busy at home with Christmas Eve doings," Chis retorted. "Me and Ma and Vee don't celebrate on Christmas Eve so we'd just as soon stay open anyway." 

Well, Christmas Eve or not it's time to pay the bill," Dad said as he pulled out his copies of the sales slips.

"I got it already added up for you since business was slow. Comes to $13.79. What did you come up with?" Chis asked.

"Right on the button," Dad answered as he handed the money to Chis. Chis rang up the amount on the cash register, stamped "PAID" on Dad's copies, tore the originals out of the book and threw them in the trash can. 

Dad said, "Thanks", and we headed for the door. 

"Wait up, Ben. Let me lock up and I'll mosey over to your house with you for a spell. Wanta wish Marie and your other boy a Merry Christmas. 

Surprised, because Chis had never come to our house before, Dad said, "Okay, we'll wait on the porch for you." 

Dad had told me before that Chis didn't like people watching him hide the money he took from the cash register. He didn't have a safe and didn't want anyone seeing where he stashed the money overnight.

In a little while Chism came out locking the front door behind him and we walked the short distance down the street to our house.

When the door opened and Mom and Tom saw Chis with Dad and me they were as surprised as we had been. 

"Good evening, Chis," Mom said, offering her hand.
"Merry Christmas to you and the boy, Marie", Chis replied.

From his coat he took a brown paper bag and handed it to me saying, "Bill this is for you and Tom. Merry Christmas."


It was filled with penny candy.  I dumped it out on the floor.  There were jaw breakers, jelly beans, crunchy candy with toasted coconut all over it called "chicken bones", boxes of candy cigarettes with the end of each cigarette colored red, licorice sticks, bubble gum, tootsie rolls, little individual boxes of candy "Boston Baked Beans", big fat wax lips filled with sweetened colored liquid that you could fit in your mouth to change your looks to a thick lipped cutie and then bite to let the sweet liquid trickle into your mouth.  But my favorite was "Guess What?".  Each "Guess What?" was a cylinder of pastel colored paper about six inches long and twisted at both ends.  Inside were two caramel kisses wrapped in wax paper.  But guess what the best thing about a "Guess What?" was?  A toy was always inside each neat little cylindrical package.

Tom and I couldn't believe our good fortune. There was more candy than we'd ever been able to buy. It was a wondrous sight.
Sitting on the floor I looked up at Chis and said softly, "Thank you, Mr. Webb."
Tom said, "Me too."
Chis laughed that rusty hinge laugh and said, "You're welcome boys and Merry Christmas." 

I thought his eyes looked funny. Kinda glistening and wet. As I looked up at him I wasn't afraid of him anymore. I kinda loved him I guess or something like that 'cause around my heart it hurt a little bit.

Chis is long dead now and I'm eighty three years old. But a Christmas Eve never comes in my life but what I don't pause and reflect and remember that one particular depression era Christmas Eve. Even if he WAS over six feet tall, skin and bones, no beard to cover his hatchet face and had a laugh like a door opening on rusty hinges, Chism Webb was the only REAL Santa Claus I've ever seen and I sincerely doubt that will ever change!