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 THE STOCKINGS THAT SAVED CHRISTMAS
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AN INGENIOUS CHRISTMAS CREATION
Silk purse from sow's ears?
You ain't seen nothin' yet!
of TheColumnists.com
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column is about that time in her life. |
Only December 1st, and already the forecast for a happy
holiday was looking grim.
Take one newly single young mom and two very young sons moving
into a ‘new’ home that was actually 100 years old.
Add one antique furnace that gave up the ghost on December 2nd
during one of the worst cold spells in Chicago history, when
the mercury plunged far below zero and hovered there indefinitely.
As the ancient radiators turned into ice blocks, the water pipes
burst, creating stalactite icicles throughout the basement as
formidable as a predator’s fangs.
And when the estimates
for the only solution--an entire new heating and plumbing system--were
so exorbitant it seemed like the thick ice sheeting the inside
windows would be a permanent fixture, the prospect of a merry
Christmas seemed completely out of reach.
Choosing between a visit from Santa or trying to survive this
domestic frozen tundra was a no-brainer, but what parent would
allow their kids to be disappointed on Christmas? With just 23
days to figure out a creative solution, I opted for optimism
and prayed for a miracle. The boys and I huddled together on
the floor, wrapped in layers of blankets and all the warm clothes
we owned, in a literal icehouse without a single stick of furniture.
“Aren’t we lucky?” I asked. “This is just
like camping, only we get to do it inside our house, and we don’t
have to worry about bears. Who else do you know that can camp
out in their own dining room?”
“Yeah, and we don’t to move any chairs or tables out
of the way first,” Eric piped.
“Pretty cool, Mom!”
The kids thought it was an adventure of the highest order. So
far, so good. We sang camp songs, told stories, and watched our
breath puff out in frosty clouds. And then...
“This is just like the North Pole, Mom. I bet Santa will
come here first on Christmas Eve ‘cuz this is like his neighborhood.”
Not good. The kid was using logical deduction to undermine the
whole operation. One of those not-so-welcome characteristics
he must’ve inherited from his father. In any case, his observation
was enough to trigger a long excited conversation between two
little boys eagerly anticipating St. Nick. It was time for their
mother to get a plan.
The idea came just days later from the least likely source. While
sorting through piles of clothes they’d outgrown that year,
I thought I could use the various fabric to make my kids personalized
Christmas stockings. Never mind that I didn’t know how to
sew and had never used a sewing machine in my life. If Betsy
Ross pulled off the first American flag without modern conveniences,
a couple stockings made with needle, thread and sheer persistence
should be a snap. And since this was the only gift I had to give
them, I decided each stocking should be a show-stopper: huge,
amusing and outrageous enough to divert attention from all that
empty space under the tree.
Operation Christmas Stocking was now in progress.
The first step was the stocking design. For each of them, I drew
a personalized cartoon to illustrate the boys’ interests
that year. Eric the aviation enthusiast’s featured a reindeer-as-Red-Baron,
complete with antlers poking out of his helmet and jauntily flying
an Albatros biplane.
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The wide range of Gina's stocking creations. |
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Brett got a ninja Santa
nattily attired in a holly-sprigged headband. The designs became
fabric templates with each piece taken from their old clothes,
laboriously stitched together and then quilted on heavier fabric
in the shape of a three-foot high stocking. It was meant to represent
a piece of their history, incorporating the clothing they’d
worn with the things they’d loved.
The actual sewing seemed to take forever. I took pieces of stocking
with me and worked on them anywhere a spare moment presented:
in the dentist’s waiting room, at work in the squad car
on slow nights, even stopped in traffic waiting for a long freight
train to pass by. Because of the colors and unusual design, the
stockings drew a lot of attention and many questions.
Merchants in my police
district asked if I’d make display stockings for their stores.
Not a chance, I told them. It was taking me forever just to hand-sew
these two. A week later, a new sewing machine was sent to me
at my police station, courtesy of an anonymous ‘patron of
the arts.’ Following that, other things began to arrive:
cartons of items earmarked for ‘Officer Gina’s stockings’
that were perfect stocking stuffers for little kids. Besides
small toys, candy and treats, there were books and video games,
art supplies, puzzles, and McDonald’s and Burger King gift
certificates.
Obviously, Eric had been wrong. Santa’s first stop wasn’t
going to be our house. He’d already enlisted troops of generous
‘elves’ to deliver the gifts well before Christmas
Eve. And by the time that magical night rolled around, there
were enough gifts to stuff both stockings to the top, pile up
in huge towers under the tree, and then donate many more to the
Childrens’ Home in our police district.
It was a minor miracle that Christmas, and the beginning of what became a family tradition with the stockings.
By the following year,
friends and family members were asking for their own stockings.
Now armed with a sewing machine and newly acquired skills, I
was able to cut production time per stocking from three weeks
to a speedy six hours while still retaining the hand-pieced,
meticulously quilted quality. As with the original stockings,
each design was personalized for the recipient to reflect a special
interest or event in their life. And every year, each stocking
became a continuing chronology of that person’s life.
Over the years, the stockings became as diverse and unique as
the people who received them. Some were openly sentimental, others
exotic or darkly funny. Previous designs have featured Elvis
as a swivel-hipped elf, a cannibal patiently stewing Santa in
his cauldron, body-building reindeer, a flirtatious Sphinx, and
a mermaid as con artist performing the ‘shell game’
hustle.
On the year of their 50th wedding anniversary, my parents’ stocking featured two amorous gorillas, sneaking a smooch under a holly-sprigged hanging banana. And since any true work of art has a title, their stocking was called, “A Kiss Under the Banana Toe.”
One friend who is a country
music enthusiast treasures his stocking that salutes one of his
favorites: the winged, half-bird, half blonde woman has impressive
cleavage and showgirl legs crossed in a cheesecake pose on the
branch of a fruit tree. The stocking’s title? “Dolly
Partridge in a Pear Tree.”
This year marks the 20th anniversary of our Christmas stockings.
After providing the vehicle for that Christmas that almost didn’t
happen, they became a much-anticipated yearly ritual for our
family and circle of friends, with production reaching as many
as 75 stockings per year. In these past two decades, those stockings
tell the stories of the people who taught us that the biggest
miracle of all is sharing their love and friendship not just
on Christmas, but every day of our lives.
©2004 by Gina Gallo.
The photos are from the author's private collection. All rights
reserved.
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