Joseph "Doby" F. Edwards, 32°
1144 W. Edwards Lane, Benson, Arizona 85602–8029

A few days before Christmas, the village of Acorn released its children for the mid-winter holiday season. Will's last day brought about carol singing, red and green construction paper stars, Santa Clause profiles, Christmas trees, Nativity scenes, and popcorn strung on thread.

Just before release, Brother Chauncey Monahan, the Senior Warden at Acorn Lodge, parked his pickup near the school's front entrance. In the back lay boxes full of small paper sacks filled with candy and bushels of bright red apples. Chauncey carried in the first box followed by an elf with a classic handlebar moustache. Brother Hatch, the four-foot six-inch grocer and Senior Deacon at Acorn Lodge, ushered Uncle Orville Doyle, the sitting Master dressed as Santa. Room by room, they distributed the small brown sacks, one with an apple to each child, a tradition in Acorn by which the Masons exemplified their tenets of Brotherly Love and Relief. The small offering, prepared by the loving hands of White Oak Eastern Star Sisters, remained all some of the impoverished children received that Christmas in the early 1940s. Happy Holiday greetings and Merry Christmas wishes were exchanged at the schoolhouse door. As the children discussed gift expectations, Will's set of Crayola® crayon 24s topped his wish list.

As the after-school school bus slowed to a halt near a mailbox at the farm lane, Will leapt onto snow-packed gravel. Gathering the newspaper and letters, he turned waving to chattery schoolmates, while watching the bus lumber on down the road. His half-mile hike to the cabin offered adventure and flights of fancy. Large snowflakes fell on Will's eyelashes, and a marvelous smell of hickory wafted on a breeze coming from Uncle Oscar's farm. The evening dimness of a short winter day portrayed the far off cabin as a picturesque Christmas card seen through a haze of distance.

After changing to work clothes, Will ambled to the farm shop where Granpa Walter Doyle spent winter days repairing machinery in an atmosphere warmed by a wood burner and forge.

Chauncey Monahan expounded west of the hot ash bed when Will's entrance interrupted, and Granpa Walter cleaned planter plates on a wire wheel. A sizzle near the stove distracted Will, when Uncle Kermit spit tobacco juice from his chair by the door, missing the ash bucket. Approaching the forge, Will recognized the hot zinger horseshoe near the ash bed edge awaiting the arrival of Uncle Orville.

"Howdy Will, an' a fine day it'tiz, for a break you'ul be a gettn' now! Aren't 'e glad our Lord has a birthday 'bout this time o' year?" questioned Chauncey.

"That I am, 'cause Uncle Orville's takin' me to County Seat for my set o' 24's." answered Will. He then moved to the stove where a warm stupor left him transfixed for the moment.

Chauncey turned to Gramp Walter, "As I was sayin' Brudder Doyle, sure an' it was heart warmin' to see Worshipful Orville n' Brother Hatch over to Acorn School this p.m., givin' out the Christmas joy. Them bright little dancin' eyes were a sight as the children searched their sack for a favorite piece."

Chauncey's babble became background to Will's thoughts of the shiny 50¢ piece in his pocket, converted from a year of penny-bank savings. Will expected other presents under the tree on Christmas morning. New overalls, a shirt or two made by Gramma Nettie, and a classic of literature, but he knew the 24's would also be there, guaranteed by his 50¢ piece.

Christmas Eve, Uncle Orville, as Master of Acorn Lodge, carried greetings and donations of candy, food, and money collected by Masons and Eastern Stars to the County Orphans Home. After delivery, Will and his uncle walked festive streets glittering from melting snow along cleared sidewalks. Will hastened with long strides, keeping even with his uncle. The man's heavy steps crunched repeatedly in grit and rock salt spread over a narrow walking area, where they sped along towards the dime store.

Will felt the shiny coin again and again between thumb and fore-finger, checking its safe position in his pocket as he visualized the set of 24 crayons under the Christmas tree.

A sudden sound of roller skates on gritty cement startled the two, and from the building-front shadows, half-a-man appeared riding a flat board with skate wheels attached to the bottom. Propelled with two padded grips protecting his hands, the half-a-man asked, "Do you have need of a pencil for a nickel?"

Seeing an adult at eye level surprised Will, and Uncle Orville stopped abruptly when the skate board nearly tripped him. Fumbling in his coin purse, he quickly dropped a nickel in the cup exclaiming, "We 'ave na need o' the pencil!"

The half-a-man pushed back into the shadows uttering a muffled, "Thank you, kind Sir." His muted face shown dim in reflected light. Bearded and unkempt, he wore a dirty wool tweed suit coat, no doubt discarded before his use of it, and his felt hat showed age, having a slick oily look.

Rushing on towards the five-and-dime, Will asked, "Uncle, where's the rest of 'im?"

An answer came in quivering tones from breathlessness caused by his quickened steps; "He lost 'em legs in the great World War, an' 'e sets out 'ere ta beggin' his food and money!" A myriad of visions sailed through Will's head. Bombs exploding near men in trenches and stretchers carrying bloody mangled bodies away from a battle line. The remainder of Will's questions went unanswered when Uncle added, "Don't 'e know, Laddy, some men travel a rough and rugged road, an' don't always find life to be fair."

Feeling for the shiny coin in his pocket, Will pulled loose from his uncle. Something welled up in his breast, a choking sensation of pity, and his immediate thought turned to giving. Will ran back to half-a-man huddled in a building's shadows, dropped the 50¢ piece in his cup, and turned running to catch up. Reaching the revolving door of Kresge's variety store, where his Uncle stooped to embrace him, wetted eyes revealed feelings Will knew they shared. A hug brought Will's ear close to his Uncle's mouth as he whispered, "To relieve the distressed is a duty incumbent on all men."

Christmas morning, Will found the Crayola® 24s under the tree. The tag read, "Tiz far better to give than receive. – Love, Uncle Santee!"

Joseph F. Edwards writes under the pseudonym "Doby". He is a retired teacher/sheep rancher and Master of San Pedro Lodge No. 55, Benson, Arizona. He writes Masonic anecdotal stories from his experiences to present at Southern Arizona Research Lodge No. 2 in Tucson, Arizona. He is also a High Priest in the Sierra Vista York Rite Bodies and a member of the Tucson Scottish Rite Bodies.