A Little Boy Named "Bobby"

As I reflect on all my wonderful Christmas memories, one stands out as a very special memory my Dad gave to me.

Henry was a small-framed, soft-spoken, gentle man who worked very long hours for the Chicago Northwestern Railroad. Providing for his family was his life. One Christmas, I guess I was about eight, Dad had my six-year-old brother and me wrap up one
of our Christmas presents and go for a ride with him. Mom made a food basket for us to take and stayed behind with my little brother. I was puzzled but never questioned his request. We arrived at a terribly run-down, tiny house, which was alongside the railroad
tracks Dad rode each day. Dad finally explained that a little boy named Bobby lived there with his baby sister and grandpa and Dad had promised to visit with his children. We were welcomed into the home and Bobby sat on "Hank's " lap and ate cookies and opened his gift.

On the way home Dad said he was very proud of us for going with him and sharing our Christmas with two children who otherwise would have no Christmas. Each year I can remember making out a list but making it shorter and adding a special request for Bobby and his sister that we would see got delivered. Each year we made our trip until one year we arrived at an empty house.

It was many years later that Mom and Dad received a knock at their door and opened it to find a young man standing there with his wife and new baby. It was not until Dad heard "Hi ya, Hank" that he realized that it was Bobby. Bobby and his sister ended up in foster care after grandpa had passed away. When Bobby got old enough he tracked down where Dad lived and purchased a home right down the street from my parents to be close to his extended family. Bobby's sister was also married and living out of state.

Dad passed away about three years ago but he has never left my heart and each year with my own family, no matter where our travels take us, we find an Angel Tree for my son Henry to pick a child's name and make their Christmas a bit brighter and to feel Grandpa Henry's presence as he smiles down on us for continuing his special holiday memory.

--Karen R.
In loving memory of my Dad