I am sitting here in my truck on a cold grey rainy day at our Prime terminal here in Salt Lake City, and Christmas is just around the corner. I can’t help but think about how far I have come in the last 20 years and how becoming a driver here at Prime has so deeply impacted my life.
I am reflective, and my introspection reaches far back through the years to where I can see myself twenty years ago sitting in the parking lot at the TA truck stop in Los Cruces New Mexico. My wife Deanna and I and our two children-Mariah and Parras were homeless-living in our van truly living our lives as “starving artists.”
All I can do today is smile, shake my head and ask, “What were we thinking?” There we were with two children selling our bead work and willow hoop dream catchers across the country to truck drivers, truck stop to truck stop and this particular Christmas Eve found us at TA truck stop in Los Cruces New Mexico feeling road weary-beaten and defeated.
To say we were struggling would be an understatement. We were out of gas. We had no money and very little food, and the pressure of our responsibilities as parents were overwhelming. I spent the day “beating the bushes”, but I couldn’t sell a dollar bill that day for a nickel. In late afternoon, it started snowing and we were doing our best to keep our spirits up, but our hope and spirits merged with the creeping darkness when my three year old son suddenly asked me, “Dad, how’s Santa going to find us in this parking lot?”
I just looked at him; standing there in his pajamas with his innocent eyes full of wonder. A thousand thoughts and emotions fired like flashbulbs and my eyes began to water. Thinking fast on my feet I began to tell him the “truth” about Santa and Christmas.
I told Parras that I had to tell him a secret and that I would only tell him if he promised not to tell anyone else. He nodded his little head as I discreetly wiped my eyes on the back of my sleeve. Parras continued to look at me with great expectation as I continued in a conspiratorial whisper, “Ok the secret is that truck drivers really deliver most of Santa’s presents.” I could see understanding flooding into his eyes as I further explained that since truckers were everywhere and delivered everything people needed to every nook and cranny on the planet that they would know where he was and not to worry. This seemed to make perfect sense to him especially when I got on the radio and told the drivers that I had told my son the truth about Santa’s helpers, and these drivers were great. Several of them came on the radio and told my son that it was true that they were Santa’s secret helpers and to not worry because they saw his name on the list.
I then told my son that Santa was real, but that every year there were more and more children and a long time ago Santa began having more and more trouble delivering all of his presents. I continued, spinning the yarn by telling him that on this one Christmas Eve a long time ago, Santa and his reindeer had to do an emergency landing on the highway because they were just too wore out to go any further and this is when a truck driver pulled over and rolled up behind Santa’s sleigh with his big chrome stacks shining and his chicken lights of orange and red glowing and twinkling as bright as Rudolph’s nose with black smoke rolling from the stacks like smoke from a chimney. The driver got out and asked if Santa was alright and was there anything he could do to help. “Well,” Santa said, “could you help me deliver the last of these packages tonight?”
The truck driver told Santa not to worry because the trucker nation would take it from there and with that, the trucker got back into his rig and Santa and two helper elves loaded the last of the presents into his truck as he broadcast a message to his fellow truckers over his CB radio. “Break one nine how bout it drivers Santa needs some help delivering the last of his presents tonight, and I am looking for a convoy of drivers to help deliver the goods to these good boys and girls.” Drivers from all over heard the call and came to meet Santa and the driver. And from that night on, Santa and truck drivers have been working together to get toys to every good boy and girl in the world. I had spun a good yarn that seemed pretty believable to a three year olds imagination, but as he turned away to play with his sister, Deanna and I looked at each other and it was all we could do to keep from crying.
I continued to advertise our dream catchers, but the radio was as quiet as the snow that fell outside our windows. Eventually, Deanna fell asleep with the dreams of our children next to her heart, and I refused to give up. I worked the radio and continued to broadcast until the wee hours of the morning. It must have been about two in the morning when I finally made a plea. I told the drivers that I would accept a “donation” anything, I told them, any amount of money would get them one of our beautiful “hand hooped-fire hardened-red winter willow hoop dream catchers” and like a miracle a driver came back and asked “where you at with those dream catchers?” The driver approached and without waking anyone I got out and shook hands with the driver. The first thing he said was that he was a little embarrassed because he only had fourteen dollars. I said not to worry driver; something is always better than nothing, and he walked away with one of our most beautiful dream catchers and I went into the TA.
There is not much you can do with fourteen dollars in a truck stop, but I found three matchbox cars for my son and some frilly pink socks for our seven year old daughter along with a personal journal for little girls and a big coffee mug with some cool old school graphics on it for Deanna aka “Mrs. Coffee.” I told the clerk of my dilemma, and she was so gracious. She wrapped each gift in beautiful paper and produced ribbon and bows and wrapped each gift including To: and From: tags. The clerk also gave me a length of white cotton material and some leftover tree ornaments. I thanked her from the bottom of my heart and returned to the van. I lay what looked like a field of snow across the dash and placed the gifts, surrounding them with beautiful Christmas tree bulbs. The windows were swirled with frosty patterns that sparkled and dazzled the eye. Jack Frost had done some of his best work for us there were no doubt, and it looked very much like Christmas to me.
With only a few hours’ sleep, we were awakened by our son shaking us and in a high excited voice he was yelling that Santa HAD found us and “LOOK ON THE DASH DAD!” He exclaimed! I watched him as he rushed to the gifts excitedly asking which was his, and feigning ignorance, I told him “I don’t know- let’s see,” and as he handed me each gift I read the name and passed them out, he took his first present, and tore it open-for a moment my heart stopped and I unconsciously held my breath, then he just started screaming with happiness about getting the little car. I let my breath out, and Deanna and I just looked at each other. We both felt and thought the same thing; we wanted to cry and smile at the same time. I guess it was because to see him so happy with such a small gift and his not knowing or wanting more almost brought a tear. It was truly magic and truly it was the real spirit of Christmas, and we smiled for that reason. He eventually tore open the other two presents, and his reaction was just like it was the first present. Each time he opened a present, we just looked at each other and shook our heads; it was a powerful moment. Parras played with those cars all day until nightfall and eventually fell asleep with one of the cars in his hand and a smile on his face.
Mariah, our seven year old, spent the day wearing her new socks and writing in her new diary, and Deanna enjoyed a morning coffee and before bed coffee with her new mug. No, there was no big dinner, no tree, or any of the traditional trappings of a Christmas day, but I did make some more money that day and we had a small dinner. We went to bed that night happy and satisfied without want for more or desire for better, and that is what Christmas and giving and receiving should feel and be like.
To know when you have enough is to be immune from disgrace.
Twenty years later, I can now tell you that I instructed and trained both Deanna and Parras here at Prime and both received their CDL’s. After a year Deanna had to go home to take care of her grandchildren while Mariah went to basic training for the Air Force. Parras ran team with me for about 50,000 miles and returned home and drove a milk truck for about a year and is currently employed by Vestas, a company that makes the big windmill blades. As for me, well-I’m still pounding and grinding out the miles and could not be happier or more proud of our children.
To all of Santa’s secret helpers-past-present and future and to the unsung heroes of the highway, I send my blessings and deepest gratitude.
By: Karl Wiggins
