The year was 1935 and we three children had already discussed Santa Claus several times. I as three years old and did not remember the previous Christmas but my brothers said Santa didn't visit our house that year. They were told we lived too far in the woods and the old fellow couldn't find our home. The month of December had arrived and each time we mentioned Santa, our parents reminded us of where we lived, and after all, we did have a chimney, so there shouldn't be any problem. December 24th arrived and the day proved to be nasty; a mixture of rain and sleet kept us inside, hovering near the fireplace, trying to keep warm. Daddy managed to shoot a couple of wild ducks for our Christmas dinner the next day and Mama made a sweet potato pie. I remember Momma saying she hoped Daddy didn't have to go for the doctor in the terrible weather. None of us were sick that I noticed. What a strange thing for Mama to say.
Dark came early and we kids were hustled off to bed. One last argument was tried by Sam and Roy but they lost and we were told to get quiet and go to sleep. We heard Mama tell Daddy to put another log in the fireplace before he left and to hurry, for God's sake. Then, she told him to stay; there wasn't time. He said something about having to go; that he didn't know the first thing about being a midwife. I asked Mama where my daddy was going in the dark. She said he was going to try and find Santa Claus.
Roy and I fell asleep, but at some point, Mama called for Sam to come hold the kerosene lamp for her. She told him to be a big boy and be her helper. The next thing I knew was hearing the lusty wailing of a baby. I woke Roy and told him Santa did find our house and had dropped us a little baby right down the chimney.
We rushed up to Mama's bed and behold! There was a baby brother! I figured Mama had to be quick and catch him before he landed right n the fire. Anyway, we were in awe and asked Mama if he really was ours to keep. She said he was our present from Santa so we proceeded to give the little guy a name. It was agreed he would be called “Hiram Brown Wilson, Jr.”
Mama told me to look under her bed and get a cardboard box, which contained some baby clothes. I selected a little gown and a blanket.
About this time, we heard someone on the porch. Daddy, Dr. McCreight and our aunt rushed in. “Quick; get these children to bed, out of my way; get a kettle of water boiling,” barked the doctor. I looked at Mama and couldn't see our baby. Momma had him hidden under the cover.
She replied, “Dr., I really don't think there's any hurry. See what you think of this,” and she threw back the cover. She said later that Daddy and the doctor looked as though they both were going to faint.
Well, Daddy made us change our baby's name. He had never liked his name and declared he certainly would not punish this child in such a manner.
I understood finally, why I was told not to hang my stocking. There's no way that ten pound baby would have fit into it. Many years have passed and I still wouldn't dream of trading Brother Jack for a stocking full of toys!