My mom has been on my mind a lot lately.

She was a force to be reckoned with.  Only 5'1", she managed to run her grocery store, raise 5 kids, who knows how many chickens, and still keep her sanity.  Maybe.

Mom's grocery extended "credit" in our little "community".  Sometimes the credit would be paid in chickens, or vegetables and fruits from gardens but often Mom knew when extending the credit that the money would not come back to her; at least, not in money.  Goodwill.  The people in our little community cared deeply for this little woman who never made them feel little.

One of my favorite stories (and there are many) is that Mom would dress up as Santa Claus at Christmas and go to others who were less well off than we were and take presents to the children.  Simple presents such as the small rubber dolls that were so popular in those days, toy trucks or cars, sometimes paper dolls, and candy.  Mom loved candy herself so made sure she included candy for each child.

The reason I am so vague about this entire process is because I was pretty small at that time also and Mom wanted me to continue to believe in Santa.  So her yearly excursions were kept from me.

How did I find out about them?  In 1963 we moved to Indiana.  Dad passed away in 1975 and Mom moved back to Tennessee in 1978.  (This is important...just hold on.)

In 1986, Mom's 70th birthday, we had a blow-out birthday celebration for her.  Because she was known across 3 counties, and had relatives in many more, we put the invitation in the local newspapers (No gifts, please.) Keeping the secret from Mom was difficult, because she still read every local newspaper as well as the Knoxville Journal regularly, but we managed it.

The big day came.  A few of us stayed with Mom, others "hid" at relatives homes only showing up on the day of her birthday.  There were so many people there!  None of us knew everyone who showed up, but they all had memories about Mom and her store.

A "young" man showed up that no one of us recognized.  In his late 30's or early 40's, one of us should have known who he was but we didn't.  He asked, "Where's Mrs. Crabtree?"  and was pointed in Mom's direction.

Kneeling in front of Mom, he asked, "Mrs. Crabtree, do you remember me?"  Mom, who never liked to admit she didn't remember someone, hemmed and hawed and said, "You look like a young boy who used to come to my store with his parents, but I can't place your name."

Delighted the man said, "You are right.  James and Catherine Baker*, my mommy and daddy used to come over here on Sundays just to talk or visit a bit.  Sometimes we'd get a coke or a pack of peanuts, but lots of times we'd just visit."  Pausing, he continued, "But, that isn't why I remember you, Mrs. Crabtree.  Do you know why I remember you?"

Mom said, "Why, yes, if my eyes worked the way they should, I would've seen your daddy in you."
Pausing, Mom said, "Why do you remember me?"

Taking Mom's hands in his, he said, "You dressed up as Santa Clause every year and brought me and my brothers and sisters candy and a toy.  Because of you, I believed in Santa Clause.  Mommy and Daddy never had enough money to give us gifts, but you, as Santa, did.  I was broken hearted when Santa stopped visiting.  After I got old enough to understand, my daddy finally told me who Santa really was.  I've never forgot that.  I've never forgot that you gave me and my brothers and sisters a Christmas for several years.  When I saw your birthday party in the paper, I knew I'd come to wish you a happy birthday and tell you that I will never forget you."

That this young man remembered and was touched for 23 years (1963 to 1986) spoke volumes to me about the kind of person my mom was.  She gave to others freely and without expecting anything in return.

To this day, I tear up when telling this story.

I just hope that someday I turn out to be half the woman my mother was.

*All of this is hearsay for me, because I was in the house doing something that needed to be done. I don't actually know the young man's name and do not remember anyone in our community named Baker.