My Christmas Angel

It was Christmas Eve 1967. I was working for a mortgage company. My first real job out of high school. I had just cashed my final paycheck for the year including Christmas bonus. There was still time for some last-minute shopping, so I headed over to John Wanamaker's department store on my lunch break. I got distracted while choosing the perfect tree ornaments for the office tree and discovered my purse was gone. As nausea set in, I searched the counters in vain and finally reported my missing handbag. I headed back to work sick with worry. How could I have been so careless? My co-workers certainly sympathized with me but how could I tell my sainted mother who was counting on the extra cash this year? Being the eldest of nine and the only working sibling, I was devastated and dreaded going home Christmas eve. I tried to calm down and shake off my panic by finishing up the work on my desk when Johnny, the kid from the Mailroom, stopped by to wish me a Merry Christmas. As I told him my sorry tale it occurred to me that I didn’t even have train fare to get home and told him so. He said, "No worries, I’ll take you home on my bike”. I laughed, thanked him and waved the little flirt away, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. He was so eager, and everyone had already gone home, so I seriously considered it. Johnny was a sweet guy about my age, always had a joke and a smile ready when he delivered the mail and the blush on his cheeks made him even more adorable. He was always blushing. How could I resist?  

We met out back where his motorcycle was parked, covered with new fallen snow. It was coming down steadily by then. I was a little wary, but Johnny reassured me that he rode in bad weather “all the time” and we’d be fine. No helmets in those days. Not cool. My 12-inch mini skirt forced me to ride side saddle, so I had a death grip on his slick leather jacket as we took off down the alley . We slowly made our way through the busy downtown Philly traffic as we got our bearings. Confident and undeterred by the snow, Johnny made a quick detour over to cobblestoned Delaware Avenue where we were free to bounce along the river, legs flying, all the while laughing hysterically. We drove for a few miles like that laughing till our sides hurt as if on some endless roller coaster ride. He was so fearless. I guess we both were. After a while it got sort of peaceful as we drove under the elevated train for cover. It was getting dark, there was hardly any traffic and under the streetlamps, and the snow glistened like a million tiny diamonds, lighting the way. Even the gritty streets of Fishtown seemed magical that night. It was quite a beautiful, enchanting night except for the fact that we were freezing. Suddenly we braked and Johnny asked if we could stop by his house for a bit. It was out of our way, but it was Christmas, we were caught up in the moment, so we forged ahead, dusted off the snow and stopped in for some hot cocoa and watched as his little sisters decorated the tree. The family was very welcoming and we talked for awhile as if old friends. They treated me as if I were Johnny's girl and I gladly went along with the charade. It was lovely. 

We finally headed over to my festive Kensington neighborhood where colored lights were strewn all along the avenue and holiday music filled the air, Salvation Army bells a ringing.  Folks waved and yelled “Merry Christmas” as we rode by, so excited and thrilled to witness Philadelphia’s first white Christmas in many years. We must have been quite a sight covered in snow. “Crazy teenagers”, they must have thought. Not so crazy, just young and foolish. It made us laugh all the more. We were in such high spirits I almost forgot about my financial woes as I ran into the house to face the music. My mother was not buying it. How could I just breeze into the house that way, so euphoric and giddy without a care after losing all my money, wallet, keys? She thought I was joking. I was careful not to mention the motorcycle. It took some convincing before Mom would believe me. Funny, it really didn’t seem that important anymore. Johnny had taken care of that. When I returned to the office a few days later, I was surprised to find my boss had a check ready for me delivered by none other than my Christmas Angel. I was obliged to repay it out of my paycheck a few bucks a week, but I was grateful for their generosity and Mom was relieved. 

Johnny enlisted in the Marine Corps just after New Year’s and we wrote a few letters back and forth. He stopped by the office for a visit after boot camp and we laughed about his new crew cut and our wild adventure in the snow. He looked amazing in uniform and so grown-up except for those adorable freckles and that tell tale blush on his cheeks. A short time later, he was deployed to Viet Nam, and we never saw him again. Our Johnny Angel. Gone. Just like that. Eighteen years old. Just a boy who wanted to fight for his country. The news was quite a shock and devastating for us all. So many brave young men taken too soon. His Alma Mater was Edison High School in Philadelphia where it was reported that the majority of deaths during the Viet Nam were Edison graduates. I think about that wonderful family losing their only son and brother. I cherish this memory and will never forget his kindness, his ultimate sacrifice and the special connection we shared that Christmas eve. Johnny’s last Christmas and possibly his last youthful fling.