Christmas Downtown

Every December we would take the California bus downtown. Mom tried to take us on a day when it was snowing, because snow makes the trip complete. We would ride through gentle white flakes and get off at Locust street. The air was always crisp and refreshing after the stifling heat and smells of the bus. It was great to join the crowd walking around Famous Barr, looking at the window displays. Famous always had the best displays, with trains and teddy bears and lots of animatronics to catch the eye. It was always so magical to me, those bright lights and fake snow showing what Christmas was supposed to look like. Every window had a Christmas tree decorated to perfection. Every entrance had a bell-ringing Santa collecting for the Salvation Army. Mom let us put coins in each bucket we passed as we worked our way around the outside of the store.
There really is nothing to compare to walking in the freezing cold, being bumped, jostled and squeezed while you peer into a world of commercial fantasy. I never heard the bitter, exhausted parents and their whiny overstimulated children. I just blocked it out. I heard instead the Christmas music being played over loudspeakers and the perpetual ringing of those tiny silver handbells. "Cling cling... Thank you ma'am, God bless you." Everyone I noticed was polite and happy; doing charitable works in the spirit of Christmas.
Eventually we would be back where we started, so we'd go inside to see Santa and his Wonderland, which took up the entire 8th floor. Each year some toy maker would sponsor the Wonderland, so the theme would be all about their products. Mattel was great, Lego was awesome, but I think Ty had everyone beat for the all-out magic of Christmas award. Ty did their wonderland with stuffed animals and some of the most amazing animatronics I've seen outside of Disney World. They had sound baffles to deflect and dampen noise; so when you walked through a snowfall-in-the-forest scene, it was quiet enough to hear the motor for the snow machine. Tiny little speakers would project realistic animal sounds or the laughter of children, or whatever was appropriate to the scene you were passing through.
After the Wonderland, we would be shunted into a red hallway that twisted and turned as it led us around to Santa and the exit. I despised the red hallway. The overhead lighting was sucked up by the red fabric covering the walls, so everything seemed dim and bloody. I'd hear the children around me chattering about the long list of toys they wanted and kept my own mouth shut. Asking for things we couldn't afford would only make mom feel guilty. Instead, I'd focus on the grab bags mom bought from the lady in the box halfway through the red corridor.
I was one of those children who asks for the things Santa can't provide. The Christmas of '78, when mom was still working at the grocery store, I asked for a better job so she could buy a house. Then I told him that if the recession was too big, he could bring me a toy horse instead. In '79, I asked for toys for the kids who didn't have Christmas... (you know, the Jewish children) and maybe a toy horse if he had any left over.
Santa would give us a piece of candy and then we'd be out into the brightly lit toy department. We never bought toys from Famous Barr at Christmas. They were too expensive. My sister and I would walk past them pretending we didn't want any of the things they were selling. We would drag mom down to the candy department on the first floor and beg for some Rocky Road chocolate. We knew how much mom loved Rocky Road, and we wanted to reward her for taking us to see the Wonderland. Mom would buy a half pound, and then we'd catch a bus for home. It was one of the best parts of Christmas, and I regret that my son will never see those fabulous displays. Going to a mall just doesn't measure up.