In the early 1900s, my mother and dad bought their very first home, a proper little Victorian style with beautiful lace curtains in the large front window. Their young family (five children at the time) was growing, and it was a happy time in their lives.
Mattie Sanford lived nearby. She was a tall, thin, attractive young lady with wispy blond hair drawn back from her face and knotted at the nape of her neck. Her husband had recently left her with several young children and without an income. But Mattie was a resourceful woman and was a talented and hard-working musician. She soon established herself as a music teacher for children in the community. Unfortunately, however, since the going rate for piano lessons was low, it was soon evident that she would be unable to support her family by teaching piano despite her hard work and enthusiasm.With characteristic ingenuity, she decided she would have a Christmas lottery and sell tickets on her most prized possession - her piano. The proceeds would allow her to pay tuition to complete requirements for a two-year normal school certificate, and she would be able to teach grade school and support her family. Her piano was beautiful, one that anyone would be proud to own. At that time, there was no radio or television and only very tinny-sounding phonographs and music boxes, so her choice of a piano for the prize was perfect.
Mother and Dad has just the right spot in their new home for a piano, and they wanted to give their young family musical training and appreciation. Mother economized on her grocery buying, and Dad took brown-bag lunches to work to have enough money to buy lottery tickets. Besides increasing their chances of winning, it made them feel great that they were helping Mattie. Apparently others felt the same way: Many tickets were sold. Everyone seemed to want a piano for Christmas.
The night of the drawing found an overflow crowd at the Sanfords, spilling out onto the front porch and into the front yard. It was a cold December night, and we were dressed warmly, with our high-buttoned shoes and black cotton stockings folded ever so neatly over our long-legged underwear, sweaters under our coats, stocking caps, mufflers, mittens and muffs.
Then came the magic moment. As everyone held their breath, Mattie's youngest reached into the ticket box to draw for the winner. Much to our delight, Mother and Dad held the winning ticket. Everyone clapped and shouted and congratulated us. We could hardly wait for the piano to be delivered. Mattie's brother-in-law offered to deliver the piano the following day. We went home a very happy family.
As the excitement subsided, Mother and Dad could see, despite the great success of the lottery, Mattie would still need the piano to give music lessons in order to care for her family's needs. They decided it was not right for them to benefit at the expense of someone less fortunate. So, without fanfare, they quietly told Mattie to keep the piano.
Years later, Mother and I were lingering at the breakfast table, reminiscing about that Christmas long ago. I looked across at her, and I could see the happiness and joy the memories brought. Then a sober expression came over her face as she said, "I knew we were doing the right thing, but it was such a disappointment to you children. You all wanted that piano so much. It would have been a Christmas you would have always remembered."
"But Mother," I answered, "it was. The excitement of the piano would have soon faded. What you and Dad gave your children instead was a shining memory of the true spirit of giving, one that recharges and sparkles in our hearts each Christmas season."
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ADDITIONAL INFORMATION
About the author
"I don't think I would have entered the contest if I had known I had to write all of this," starts the letter from Margery Badger Taylor, "I'm a very private person."
This "very private person" has for years written little stories about her ancestors to herself and done pen and ink sketches to illustrate them. She then sends them to extended family.
Having her story today published is a first for her, however. She is one of the nine children described in her story.
Taylor, a resident of Holladay in Salt Lake County, is married to William Frederick Taylor. She is a graduate of LDS High School, Utah State Agricultural College and has an M.S. from the University of Utah.
Her life's activities include working for the U.S. Federal Works Agency in Atlanta, Georgia, where she organized and developed day-care schools in shipyards, nylon and cotton mills and at the Atomic Research Institute in Oakridge, Tenn.
She also once lobbied the Utah State Legislature on a child-care-center licensing bill, wrote the law and licensed the first child-care center in Utah.
She entered the contest because she believes that in these troubling times of declining values, all of us, including the media, need to accentuate the positive.