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A snow-cone maker — and a renewed faith
The best toy I ever received was a Frosty Sno-Man Sno-Cone Machine. Basically, it was just a cheese grater in plastic housing, but it restored my belief in Santa Claus. I was at the age when I had doubts, so when it came time to tell the department store Santa what I wanted for Christmas, I carefully whispered in his ear, making sure that nobody else heard. I told no one else. And on Christmas morning, when I received what I had asked for, my doubts disappeared. — Robert Englund, Minneapolis
A doll with a hand-sewn wardrobe
A doll with clothes sewn on a sewing machine and hand-sewn by my mother. We didn’t own a sewing machine, and I had never seen my mother sew anything before. She had done it for weeks, after I went to bed, as a complete surprise. We didn’t have enough money to buy one of the fancy dolls with outfits, so she made one for me. I was 9 years old. I couldn’t believe it. I cried on Christmas morning. — Patricia Hannen, Durham, N.C.
A bear made with love
Elizabeth, a handmade teddy bear lovingly sewn by my great-grandmother. I was only 2 when I got it as a Christmas gift, so I don’t remember receiving it, but there are pictures of me holding her after I opened the present. I hugged and played with Elizabeth so much that, when I was around 10, my great grandmother had to make “new skin” for her, which went over her worn-out skin. I still have Elizabeth, and her old ears can still be felt inside the newer ones. — Marissa Fish, La Pointe, Wis.
A Cinderella miracle
I was 5 years old on Christmas morning 1951, when I woke up in Denver’s Colorado General Hospital. My family had been in a serious car wreck the night before. I had fretted, in my childish way, when I went to sleep the night before, that Santa Claus would never find me in this scary place full of strangers. I was alone; my mother and older sister were being treated and recovering in other rooms. But as I turned my head gingerly (I had a broken shoulder), I saw on my pillow a doll I couldn’t even have dreamed of: a Cinderella doll. She was dressed in her work clothes, but when I turned her upside down with the hand on my good arm, she was dressed in a pale blue taffeta ball gown, with her golden hair in beautiful curls. The doll also had a music box in it. I can’t remember what song it played, but that doll was proof positive that some Santa somewhere knew where I was and cared enough to bring me a beautiful Christmas present seemingly chosen just for me. I treasured her for years and can still see her as clearly as that first day she appeared on my pillow. — Rita Baysinger, Lakewood, Colo.
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A new way of seeing the world
The best gift I ever received was a Kodak cartridge camera, sometime around 1974. That camera began a lifelong love of photography. It opened a world of art and creativity for me. — Brian Feely, Washington, D.C.
A microscope that sparked a career
My family had eight children, and we each got one gift at Christmas. When I was 10 years old, all I wanted was a microscope. It was under the tree. My dad, who managed a production dairy, would bring home samples from his lab for me to look at and study. A career in environmental protection followed. I’ll always remember this toy as the one that started me on the scientific path. — Marie Bourgeois, Helena, Mont.
A Lionel electronics kit
At age 11, I received a Lionel electronics kit from my aunt and uncle. I was absolutely fascinated by the gadgets I could build with it that were far more fun than any play-ready toy. It directly led to my education as an electrical engineer, the founding of a software development company and my final client gig building robotics software for thought-controlled prostheses, which, in addition to being technically very cool, was real feel-good stuff! Thanks so much, Auntie Helen and Uncle Vernon! — Robert Parks, Oak Park, Ill.
A protective sweater
I did not receive children’s toys. My favorite Christmas gift was a sweater. It kept me warm, and I wore it until I grew out of it. It is still at the bottom of my linen chest many decades later. I have always remembered my aunt’s kindness in a dark time. — Victoria Russell, Vermont
A precious piece of jewelry
A real gold signet ring at age 12. I thought a family like ours wouldn’t give a gift that was not entirely practical (robes, shoes, socks, underwear, etc.). That year, I learned my mom had saved up for it, and it made me so happy. — Judy A. Adams, Millersville, Penn.
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A scarce game of Monopoly
In 1947, our father owned a dry goods store in St. Louis, and the entire family helped during the holiday season. That year, he stocked six Monopoly sets and agreed to give us three boys a set if one was not sold. On Christmas Eve, one set remained. Alas, a few minutes before closing, a man came in and picked up that last set. My father saw my crestfallen face. He offered the man a $6 wagon at the $3 price of the set. Deal done. Santa never had a bigger smile than my father’s as he put aside our gift. The next day, we celebrated Hanukkah with a big dinner and the boys playing Monopoly! — Marvin Cytron, New Bern, N.C.
Outlets for boyish aggression
Among the “aggressive” toys that helped my siblings, cousins and me vent (with relative safety) our sibling rivalries were two with memorable debuts: (1) Our beloved Uncle Ben, at a 1960s Christmas Eve, brought us a Johnny Reb Cannon, which fired its first shot from our living room all the way to our kitchen, where my innocent father had the plastic cannon ball bounce off his forehead! (2) At a later time, my mom bought several guns that shot up to 30 soft, nickel-size plastic discs on one loading and gave them first to my two brothers and male cousin — who promptly walked in line to our living room, turned toward me all at once and swiftly “assassinated” me like mob goons! Not surprisingly, maybe, I was happy to become a child and adolescent psychiatrist and make many toy and game recommendations to kids and adults! — Patrick O’Donnell, Springfield, Ill.
A bicycle — and a father’s trust
As an 8-year-old recipient, it was my beautiful blue bicycle, a surprise, no-special-occasion gift. Dad had ordered it from Sears, Roebuck & Co, the farmers’ version of Amazon in the 1940s. He installed a big, shiny basket on the front handlebars, and I began my countless journeys that eventually consumed innumerable flats and replacement tires. I recall only one unpleasant experience while speeding along the road home. I had finally mastered riding without using handlebars, opting instead for “balance-steering,” by subtly leaning my body for steering, even in turns. I could hear a car approaching from behind, so I resumed using the handlebars while moving to the edge of the roadway. I was surprised when the vehicle slowly drew alongside and was shocked to see dad in the driver’s seat. Lamentations! He was standing in the yard when I arrived, and I felt certain that I had lost my precious, beautiful blue bike forever. Thankfully, dad’s fear had subsided. He delivered an extremely stern lecture on safety and using good judgment, and, miracle of miracles, he didn’t impound the bike. I heeded his cautions and eventually began dreaming about a beautiful blue car with a shiny front bumper. — Joy Brewer, Astoria, Ore.
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Toys matter, and not merely as diversions. In November, Opinion columnists and artists reflected on the gifts that gave them comfort, freedom and inspiration. And readers responded with their own memories, many of which underscored how much love can be conveyed by well-chosen or artfully made gifts.
The best toy I ever received was a Frosty Sno-Man Sno-Cone Machine. Basically, it was just a cheese grater in plastic housing, but it restored my belief in Santa Claus. I was at the age when I had doubts, so when it came time to tell the department store Santa what I wanted for Christmas, I carefully whispered in his ear, making sure that nobody else heard. I told no one else. And on Christmas morning, when I received what I had asked for, my doubts disappeared. — Robert Englund, Minneapolis
A doll with clothes sewn on a sewing machine and hand-sewn by my mother. We didn’t own a sewing machine, and I had never seen my mother sew anything before. She had done it for weeks, after I went to bed, as a complete surprise. We didn’t have enough money to buy one of the fancy dolls with outfits, so she made one for me. I was 9 years old. I couldn’t believe it. I cried on Christmas morning. — Patricia Hannen, Durham, N.C.
Elizabeth, a handmade teddy bear lovingly sewn by my great-grandmother. I was only 2 when I got it as a Christmas gift, so I don’t remember receiving it, but there are pictures of me holding her after I opened the present. I hugged and played with Elizabeth so much that, when I was around 10, my great grandmother had to make “new skin” for her, which went over her worn-out skin. I still have Elizabeth, and her old ears can still be felt inside the newer ones. — Marissa Fish, La Pointe, Wis.
I was 5 years old on Christmas morning 1951, when I woke up in Denver’s Colorado General Hospital. My family had been in a serious car wreck the night before. I had fretted, in my childish way, when I went to sleep the night before, that Santa Claus would never find me in this scary place full of strangers. I was alone; my mother and older sister were being treated and recovering in other rooms. But as I turned my head gingerly (I had a broken shoulder), I saw on my pillow a doll I couldn’t even have dreamed of: a Cinderella doll. She was dressed in her work clothes, but when I turned her upside down with the hand on my good arm, she was dressed in a pale blue taffeta ball gown, with her golden hair in beautiful curls. The doll also had a music box in it. I can’t remember what song it played, but that doll was proof positive that some Santa somewhere knew where I was and cared enough to bring me a beautiful Christmas present seemingly chosen just for me. I treasured her for years and can still see her as clearly as that first day she appeared on my pillow. — Rita Baysinger, Lakewood, Colo.
The best gift I ever received was a Kodak cartridge camera, sometime around 1974. That camera began a lifelong love of photography. It opened a world of art and creativity for me. — Brian Feely, Washington, D.C.
My family had eight children, and we each got one gift at Christmas. When I was 10 years old, all I wanted was a microscope. It was under the tree. My dad, who managed a production dairy, would bring home samples from his lab for me to look at and study. A career in environmental protection followed. I’ll always remember this toy as the one that started me on the scientific path. — Marie Bourgeois, Helena, Mont.
At age 11, I received a Lionel electronics kit from my aunt and uncle. I was absolutely fascinated by the gadgets I could build with it that were far more fun than any play-ready toy. It directly led to my education as an electrical engineer, the founding of a software development company and my final client gig building robotics software for thought-controlled prostheses, which, in addition to being technically very cool, was real feel-good stuff! Thanks so much, Auntie Helen and Uncle Vernon! — Robert Parks, Oak Park, Ill.
I did not receive children’s toys. My favorite Christmas gift was a sweater. It kept me warm, and I wore it until I grew out of it. It is still at the bottom of my linen chest many decades later. I have always remembered my aunt’s kindness in a dark time. — Victoria Russell, Vermont
A real gold signet ring at age 12. I thought a family like ours wouldn’t give a gift that was not entirely practical (robes, shoes, socks, underwear, etc.). That year, I learned my mom had saved up for it, and it made me so happy. — Judy A. Adams, Millersville, Penn.
In 1947, our father owned a dry goods store in St. Louis, and the entire family helped during the holiday season. That year, he stocked six Monopoly sets and agreed to give us three boys a set if one was not sold. On Christmas Eve, one set remained. Alas, a few minutes before closing, a man came in and picked up that last set. My father saw my crestfallen face. He offered the man a $6 wagon at the $3 price of the set. Deal done. Santa never had a bigger smile than my father’s as he put aside our gift. The next day, we celebrated Hanukkah with a big dinner and the boys playing Monopoly! — Marvin Cytron, New Bern, N.C.
Among the “aggressive” toys that helped my siblings, cousins and me vent (with relative safety) our sibling rivalries were two with memorable debuts: (1) Our beloved Uncle Ben, at a 1960s Christmas Eve, brought us a Johnny Reb Cannon, which fired its first shot from our living room all the way to our kitchen, where my innocent father had the plastic cannon ball bounce off his forehead! (2) At a later time, my mom bought several guns that shot up to 30 soft, nickel-size plastic discs on one loading and gave them first to my two brothers and male cousin — who promptly walked in line to our living room, turned toward me all at once and swiftly “assassinated” me like mob goons! Not surprisingly, maybe, I was happy to become a child and adolescent psychiatrist and make many toy and game recommendations to kids and adults! — Patrick O’Donnell, Springfield, Ill.
As an 8-year-old recipient, it was my beautiful blue bicycle, a surprise, no-special-occasion gift. Dad had ordered it from Sears, Roebuck & Co, the farmers’ version of Amazon in the 1940s. He installed a big, shiny basket on the front handlebars, and I began my countless journeys that eventually consumed innumerable flats and replacement tires. I recall only one unpleasant experience while speeding along the road home. I had finally mastered riding without using handlebars, opting instead for “balance-steering,” by subtly leaning my body for steering, even in turns. I could hear a car approaching from behind, so I resumed using the handlebars while moving to the edge of the roadway. I was surprised when the vehicle slowly drew alongside and was shocked to see dad in the driver’s seat. Lamentations! He was standing in the yard when I arrived, and I felt certain that I had lost my precious, beautiful blue bike forever. Thankfully, dad’s fear had subsided. He delivered an extremely stern lecture on safety and using good judgment, and, miracle of miracles, he didn’t impound the bike. I heeded his cautions and eventually began dreaming about a beautiful blue car with a shiny front bumper. — Joy Brewer, Astoria, Ore.
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