Santa delivered a Flexible flyer sled; Dad added the fun

My dad’s grin told me he was as excited about my Christmas present as I was.

I hadn’t wished for a Flexible Flyer sled.

I’d never even heard of a Flexible Flyer sled.

And I didn’t ask Santa for something I’d never heard of.

But there it was — a miracle of long wood slats with red steel runners and red décor.

The year was 1942. To my 7-year-old eyes, this was a dad-sized sled.

“I think Santa left that sled as much for Dad as for you,” Mom joked.

I didn’t care that the sled seemed too long and too heavy for me to handle. I knew it promised hours of sledding fun with my dad on nearby hills.

Dad and I joined a Sunday full of sledders on nearby hills within weeks.

Dad pulled the long sled up the hills. Once at the top, Dad and I coordinated a running start. I’d flop — belly first — onto the sled.

Once I was on the sled, Dad flopped on top of me.

This was called “belly whopping.”

We flew down the hill — screaming with the thrill of our run.

We avoided collisions because the Flexible Flyer’s steering handles allowed for deft maneuvers around people and trees.

Sledders could also ride sitting up — steering with one’s feet — but that seemed too tame for us. We liked the running start and speed of belly whopping.

Within a year or two, I was tall enough to manage the sled and dashed out the back door whenever snow called.

Looking back, I’m amazed that my dad took the time to take me on these snowy adventures.

At that time, our country was embroiled in World War II. Although Dad wasn’t in the service, his work had him deeply involved in a stressful part of the war effort.

As a 7-year-old, I had no idea what my dad did at the office. All I knew was that he always had time for a ride on his back or a sled when he was home.

On Sunday summer afternoons, when the doorbell rang, youngsters with softballs in hand asked, “Can your dad come out and play?”

When Dad played softball with neighborhood kids I got my turn at bat. I still hear Dad saying, “Keep your eye on the ball.

It wasn’t just sledding and softball. Our family’s old movies show me that sometimes my dad, brother and I ran together just for the sake of running.

Researchers laud the benefits of play. They tell us that, among other benefits, playing — and having fun — relieves stress and helps us during difficult times.

Dad wouldn’t have been aware of the research —

I think he simply liked to spread his happiness.

The Flexible Flyer that slid under our Christmas tree in 1942 is long gone. But sweet memories of sledding with my dad remain.

My unasked-for, unwished-for sled was one of the many miracles in my long life. My dad — with his sense of fun — was up there with the best of them.

Have you had “miracle people” in your life? Who are they?

With wonders of the season in mind, I wish all my readers playful holidays.