Christmas 1957 was the “Year of the Bike” in our house at 501 South Pine Street in Kewanee.
My dad had found an old, chain-driven tricycle which he wanted to fix up to give to my then two-year-old sister, Liane, for Christmas. I was old enough to help him – at least a little. But I later learned that his goal in having me help him was for another, albeit related, reason.
I recall being down in the basement in the evenings with my dad working on the bike. There was an old, dusty coal storage room down there, and an “octopus” of a furnace lurking in the middle of the slightly dank space as we dutifully worked on my sister’s present.
My Dad cleaned up the bike, got rid of any rust, otherwise made sure it was mechanically sound, and then painted the frame a bright yellow. I was so excited to be helping and was absolutely sure Liane would love it. It was hard keeping it a secret from her, but we succeeded.
On Christmas Eve, the time Santa usually visited our house approached. (By that time, I no longer believed in Santa – mostly.) I was busting at the seams and whispering to my parents about how surprised Liane was going to be.
Our Christmas tradition was that all of the kids would go up to bed early, and maybe, just maybe, Santa would come to our house that evening.
While lying in my bed in the room I shared with my four-year-old brother, Ralph, I heard the hoped-for the jingle of bells and a “Ho, Ho, Ho!” Ralph, Liane, and I all raced down the stairs – my baby brother, Gary, for obvious reasons, couldn’t join us in that joyous romp. Ralph and Liane were focused on what surprises awaited them, while I couldn’t wait to see the look of surprise on Liane’s face.
But guess who was surprised as well! My parents had staged my present near the bottom of the steps so I would see it first. A shiny new bike for me! Wow!
My dad had taken me into his confidence about Liane’s bike in order to distract me from thinking about the bike I had wanted. My brother Ralph also received a new bike with training wheels.
I’m sure we soon peppered our parents with requests to go out and ride the bikes, even though it was a dark, cold December night!
It was one of many memorable Christmases I was fortunate to enjoy growing up in Kewanee. Thanks, Mom and Dad!
