A Christmas firetruck

I was a wee lad, having just turned 3 in November 1947. We lived in Ederington Apartments, a large old house that had been repurposed to house several families. It was on West Central Street in Warren, half a block off Main Street. It was directly behind the J.T. Ederington House, which faced Main Street.

I wanted a toy firetruck for Christmas. We went to bed Christmas Eve but were so excited about Christmas that it was hard to fall asleep. We did, of course. We were awakened during the night by the sound of a fire siren. Yay! Santa was bringing my firetruck. Now I was really excited. I knew I had to wait until morning to find out what Santa had brought, but … my firetruck!

Imagine my surprise on Christmas morning when there was no firetruck under the Christmas tree. What had happened to it? Did it get lost? Surely it was around here somewhere. I was devastated. It had to be here; I heard it during the night. Alas, the fire siren I heard was a real fire truck responding to a fire in the J.T. Ederington House’s garage. Garages were typically free-standing in those days, so the fire in their garage did not affect their house.

How does one explain that situation to a 3-year-old? Santa had not brought me my firetruck. Why? I can only speculate. Probably I had secretly told Santa I wanted a firetruck, but I failed to let Mother and Daddy know. Maybe if I did tell them, it was too late. Perhaps they had already bought Christmas stuff by the time I told them. Money did not grow on trees in those days. Sigh.

JOE JEFFERS

Arkadelphia