A Snowman for Christmas



  A Snowman for Christmas

  Bryan Woolley

  Illustrations by Guillermo Munro

  The Dallas Morning News

  Copyright 2011, The Dallas Morning News Inc. All rights reserved.

  A visit with Santa

  It snows so rarely in Dallas that it’s always a magical event. The first time the children of the city awakened to a white Christmas was in 1926.

  Maybe it happened like this.

  ***

  “What shall I bring you for Christmas, little girl?” Santa Claus asked Alice.

  “A snowman,” Alice said.

  “A snowman!” Santa said. “What an odd thing to ask for. Why do you want a snowman, little girl?”

  “My name is Alice,” said Alice. “And I’m not a little girl. I’m six. And I want a snowman because I’ve never had one.”

  “Ho, ho, ho! That’s because you live in Dallas!” Santa said. “It never snows in Dallas on Christmas. Indeed, it hardly snows in Dallas at all. So I’m afraid you can’t have a snowman, little girl. Perhaps I shall bring you a nice doll instead.”

  “No!” cried Alice. “If you’re Santa Claus, you can bring me anything I want! And I want a snowman!”

  She would have stamped her foot, but she was sitting in Santa’s lap on a golden throne on the stage of the Majestic Theatre. Santa had come to Dallas to find out what its children wanted for Christmas, which was only two days away. Hundreds of boys and girls had come with their mothers to meet him. They were standing in a long line, waiting to climb into his lap.

  “Shame, Alice!” her mother scolded. “That’s no way to talk to Santa Claus! Maybe he’ll bring you some lumps of coal or some sticks!”

  “I don’t care!” said Alice. “A snowman is what I want!” She was having a very cranky day.

  Mama grabbed Alice’s arm and pulled her down from Santa’s lap. She marched her up the aisle, past all the waiting children, and out onto the sidewalk, which was crowded with grown-ups carrying packages.

  “Maybe he won’t even bring you coal or sticks,” Mama muttered, helping Alice onto the streetcar.

  Neither said another word all the way home.

  Papa

  “Where do snowmen come from?” Alice asked.

  “Why, people make them,” Papa said.

  They were in the parlor. Alice was sitting in Papa’s lap, which was more comfortable than Santa’s, and they were looking at the Christmas cards the postman had brought that day. Nearly all of them had pictures of snow. Two had pictures of snowmen wearing hats and scarves, with lumps of coal for eyes and nose and teeth.

  “But we can’t make one because it never snows in Dallas,” said Alice.

  “Well, hardly ever,” said Papa. “And almost never enough to make a big snowman like these.”

  “So why do all our Christmas cards have snow on them?” Alice asked.

  “Because the cards are made Up North, where it does snow in the winter. Up there, they throw snowballs at each other and build snowmen every day till spring.”

  Suddenly a gust of wind rattled the parlor window. The tree outside swayed crazily. Big raindrops spattered on the windowpane. The sky had turned almost black.

  “It hardly seems fair,” Alice said.

  “Um,” said Papa.

  “Papa?”

  “Yes, honey?”

  “Was the Santa Claus at the theater the real Santa Claus?”

  “Hmm! Well! Run along now, dear. I must read the paper.”

  Alice jumped down and went into the kitchen to play with the cat.

  Trouble

  “Hoo boy! You’re in trouble!” Randolph said.

  Randolph was Alice’s brother. He was eight. He liked to tease Alice and was always happy when she was in trouble.

  “I am not!” Alice said.

  “Yes, you are!”

  “I’m not!”

  “You are!”

  “What for?”

  “You sassed Santa Claus!”

  “Who says?”

  “Mama says! I heard her tell Papa!”

  “He wasn’t the real Santa Claus!” Alice said.

  “Was, too!” Randolph said.

  “How do you know? You weren’t there!”

  “And I’m glad!” Randolph said. “If Santa knew you’re my sister, he might bring me coal for Christmas, too!”

  He stuck out his tongue at Alice and laughed.

  A stormy night

  Alice couldn’t sleep. Lightning flashed outside her window. Thunder shook the house. Rain lashed at the windows. She was scared. She was angry with Randolph. She worried about Santa Claus. Why couldn’t he bring her a snowman? What if he did bring her coal or sticks for Christmas? She felt awful.

  Breakfast

  “What’s the matter with you?” Mama asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “You haven’t said a word.”

  “I don’t have anything to say,” Alice said.

  “That’s why it’s such a nice morning,” Randolph said.

  “Shut up!” Alice said.

  “Don’t say that, Alice!” Papa said. “We’ll not have bad manners at

  the table.”

  “Randolph had bad manners,” Alice said.

  “Yes, he did,” Papa said. “But that doesn’t give you an excuse to have bad manners, too.” And to Randolph he said, “Young man, you’d better straighten up and fly right.”

  All the way through the eggs and bacon and biscuits, nobody said a thing. But while Mama was pouring Papa’s third cup of coffee, she said, “Oh, the weather is so awful this morning!”

  “I dread going out,” Papa said.

  “The radio says it’s going to get colder,” Mama said.

  Papa looked at his watch, finished his coffee in a hurry and rose from the table. In the hall he put on his hat and overcoat and picked up his umbrella.

  “Goodbye, Papa,” Alice said.

  Papa knelt and gave her a hug and a big kiss. “Goodbye, honey. Don’t be cranky. Remember, Santa Claus is coming tonight!”

  That made Alice worry again.

  Christmas Eve

  ’Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house

  Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse...

  Every Christmas Eve night, Papa sat beside Alice’s bed and read her the poem about the visit of St. Nicholas (which, he always explained, is another name for Santa Claus). It was one of Alice’s favorite Christmas things. When Papa got to the part about St. Nick’s belly shaking like a bowl of jelly, she always laughed. But this time, she didn’t.

  Papa looked up from the book. “What’s the matter, Alice?” he asked.

  “Something is troubling you.”

  “Why doesn’t it ever snow here on Christmas?”

  “It’s too warm. If we were Up North, it probably would snow. But we’re Down South.”

  “Does Santa land his sleigh on our roof like he does in the poem?”

  “Of course he does. He lands on everybody’s roof and climbs down the chimney.”

  “How can he land on our roof when there’s no snow there?”

  “Umm. Well. I’m only your father. I don’t know all of Santa’s secrets. Maybe he has wheels that he puts on his sleigh when he flies Down South.”

  “That makes sense,” Alice said.

  “Thank you.”

  “Papa?”

  “Yes, honey.”

  “Do you think Santa will bring me something nice?”

  “Of course he will. Why shouldn’t he?”

  “Because I sassed him at the theater.”

  “Mama told me. Why did you do that?”

  “Because he said he couldn’t bring me what I asked him for.”


  “What is that?”

  “A snowman.”

  “That would be difficult. Even for Santa Claus.”

  “And we can’t make one ourselves because we have no snow.”

  “Don’t worry. It’ll be a nice Christmas anyway.”

  Alice didn’t think so.

  Worries

  She lay in the dark, listening to the thunder. She tried to be glad it was Christmas Eve. It had always been the most exciting night, curled up in bed, thinking of Santa Claus and his reindeer and the gifts they would bring. But now every thought of Santa worried her.

  Why had she sassed him? Why had she been so cranky? A new doll would have been a wonderful thing to find under the Christmas tree.

  Why had she shouted “No!” at Santa? Was anything more stupid than that? She thought she would never go to sleep. But she did. She was so tired.

  Surprise!

  Papa was shaking her. “Wake up!” he whispered.

  Alice sat up and rubbed her eyes.

  “Be very quiet,” Papa said.

  The first light of dawn glowed softly through the window. Papa was pulling her stockings and boots onto her feet.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “Shh!” said Papa. “Now stand up.”

  He helped her on with her coat and cap and mittens and took her hand in his.

  “Tiptoe,” he whispered. “Don’t wake Randolph.”

  They tiptoed down the dark hallway and through the kitchen. Quietly, Papa opened the door. They stepped onto the back porch.

  “Alice, look!”

  The whole world was white. Snow, beautiful snow, gorgeous snow covered the lawn and the rosebushes and the top of the fence and the limbs of the pecan tree. The rising sun, creeping slowly across it, made it glisten like millions of tiny jewels.

  And in the middle of the yard stood a snowman, round and tall, with an old hat on his head and a red scarf around his neck. A red-and-green Christmas stocking dangled from one of his outstretched arms.

  “Papa!” Alice cried. “He did it!” She dashed down the steps, making footprints in the snow. It was six inches deep.

  “Hmm. So he did,” said Papa. He followed Alice into the yard and laid his hand on her shoulder. The snowman was taller than Alice.

  Then Alice said, “Papa! Something’s wrong!”

  “Oh?”

  “He hasn’t got a face!”

  “You’re right,” said Papa. “Now why would Santa do that? Strange. Very strange indeed.”

  Alice was puzzled, and a little upset. What good was a snowman without a face?

  “Maybe we should see what’s in the stocking,” said Papa. He took it off the snowman’s arm and gave it to Alice. She felt inside and pulled out...

  “Coal!” she said. “Lumps of coal!”

  “Excellent!” said Papa. “Just what we need to make a snowman’s face.”

  He lifted Alice into his arms and held her while she arranged the pieces of coal. Big black eyes. Round black nose. Smiling black teeth.

  “You know what?” Papa said. “This snowman needs one more thing.”

  “What?” Alice asked.

  “A little snowgirl to keep him company. We’ll build one after breakfast. Maybe Randolph can help us.”

  “If he’s nice,” Alice said.

  “Come on,” Papa said. “Let’s go see what’s under the Christmas tree.”

  About this book

  A SNOWMAN FOR CHRISTMAS first appeared in The Dallas Morning News on Christmas Day 2000 as a gift to our readers.

  DALLAS AUTHOR BRYAN WOOLLEY is an expert in Texas history and culture. His most recent book is The Wonderful Room: The Making of a Texas Newspaperman from Wings Press.

  ILLUSTRATOR GUILLERMO MONRO is a painter, illustrator, photographer and designer. He is currently working at China Daily in Beijing as Graphics Director.