An American Flyer Tale for Christmas
More than anything Tim Lindahl wanted an electric train for Christmas. Not just any electric train though, it had to be an American Flyer train. But Tim knew that getting a train from Santa or anyone was impossible. Earlier in the year the government had shut down all toy production so that the factories could put all of their energy into making things for the war. Tim worried a lot about his Dad. Many of his friends’ dads had been called to go to war. He wondered what would happen to him and his younger brother and sisters, and their Mom if Dad had to leave. His father worked for the great big Post Office in Chicago; the one where the trains came right into the building and were unloaded. So far Dad hadn’t said anything about going to war and he didn’t seem to be worried. Tim tried not to think about it.
When he wasn’t busy with school or chores Tim kept himself occupied looking at the toy train catalogs that he had saved from better times. He had Lionel catalogs and American Flyer catalogs and catalogs from Sears and Montgomery Ward, but he found himself most often returning to the American Flyer catalogs. He would close his eyes and imagine what a sleek passenger train or long freight train headed by a powerful steam engine would look like circling the Christmas tree. He would imagine his hand on the throttle of the big black transformer sending the engine pounding down the track and then slowing it down so that it eased into the passenger station. All of these fantasies would end the same way; Tim would open his eyes, sigh deeply and head off to play ball or help in the kitchen.
It was the tradition in Tim’s family that during the Thanksgiving weekend everyone would come up with a Christmas Wish list. Tim knew that you probably wouldn’t get everything on the list, but it was fun dreaming about it, and making the list. When it was time to write their letters to Santa, Tim and his siblings would sit together at the big kitchen table and dreamed and wrote and dreamed and wrote some more. Their parents were in the kitchen with them supervising the writing and making mental notes. Tim thought for a long time before he wrote anything. Eventually his note was short and to the point: “Dear Santa, I know that things are tough for getting toys this year. If the elves aren’t too busy making bombs could you see if they could make a train for me out of old spare parts? Thanks; Your obedient, well behaved, hard working friend, Tim L.”
As Tim was finalizing his letter he noticed that his Dad was looking over his shoulder. Dad glanced over at his Mother with a meaningful look on his face. It was one of those times when Tim realized that some kind of communication had passed between his father and mother, but he had no idea what it was. When all of the children were done with their letters they each addressed an envelope to Santa at the North Pole and designed a postage stamp for their envelope. Dad always took their letters to the big Post Office with him and made sure they got special handling to the North Pole.
As the days went by Tim wondered how Santa would find a way to bring him an American Flyer electric train. He kept on dreaming about his train, and sometimes he even imagined that he had a whole empire of trains to run around the tree and across the living room floor. He imagined street lights, and accessories and stations where the trains would stop and unload or load their passengers and freight,
One Saturday while Mom and Dad were out shopping and the rest of the kids were in various places Tim was laying on the living room floor going through his catalogs for the millionth time. He had each page memorized but still he turned them one by one and savored the colorfull illustrations of trains. “Which one will Santa bring?” he wondered. His reverie was disturbed by knocking at the front door. He jumped up quickly and ran to the sturdy oak door. He could see a hat and a man’s head through the windows in the upper fourth of the door. He wasn’t expecting anyone to come to the house and Mom and Dad didn’t tell him to expect anyone either. Cautiously he unlocked the door and pulled it open just enough to look out at the man standing there. The man looked down at Tim and in a deep voice asked, “Does Ned Lindahl live here?” “Yes he does.” Tim replied in a nervous sounding voice, “He’s my father. But he isn’t here right now. But he should be back any second.” The man tipped his head to the side and eyed Tim up and down. “Well here is the stuff we talked about.” Only then did Tim notice that the man had a box in his hands a little bigger than a shoe box. He held it out for Tim to take. When Tim took it from him he noticed that it was very heavy. “Be sure to tell him that Mr. Winter left a box for him.” said the man and he turned to leave. He took two steps, turned around and looked directly at Tim. “It woudn’t be a good idea for you to look in that box young man.” The man walked down the stairs and Tim wasn’t sure, but he thought he could hear the man chuckling.
Tim carried the box to the table in the hall. He stepped back from the box like it was a ticking time bomb. “What is this all about?” he said to himself. Before he had time to think about it there was another knocking at the front door. Tim ran to the door and quickly opened it. There stood another man holding a much larger box than the first one. Tim recognized the mailman’s uniform that the man was wearing, but this was not their regular mailman Bill who was a friend of Dad’s. “Hey kid, is your father at home?” “No” Tim replied, “But he should be here any second.” “Well tell him my wife says that we have to get rid of this stuff and he can have it.” The man shifted the box a bit and it rattled. “Its pretty heavy kid. Where can I put it?" Tim led him to the table in the hall where the first box sat and the man put it down on the floor with a heavy sounding thud. The box was securely tied with clothesline done up in sturdy knots. “Better not touch this before your Dad gets home.” The uniformed man turned and headed for the door. “Mister, who should I tell my dad dropped off the box?” The man smiled broadly and said “Just tell him you met one of Santa’s elves.”, and he closed the door behind him. “One of Santa’s elves!” thought Tim; “Could he really be one of Santa’s elves?”
At that moment Tim could hear his parents coming in the back door. He raced to meet them and started to pour out the story of the two boxes and the men who delivered them. As he chattered on, his parents exchanged another one of those looks that communicated without words. Tim’s mother spoke up and said “My, my what an adventure. That sounds like a story you would hear on the radio. I baked some cookies this morning and the milkman left some fresh milk in the box. Let’s go and have a snack.” Tim was a bit puzzled by his Mom’s reponse but the thought of fresh cookies and cold milk drew his attention.
After his snack he realized that Dad hadn’t joined them. He found Dad reading the paper in the big easy chair in the living room and listening to the radio. When Tim came into the room Dad asked “Say where are those boxes you said were delivered?” Tim spun around to point to the table in the hall. The table was empty and both boxes were gone. Tim’s mouth fell open and he turned back to his Dad. “They’re gone!” he exclaimed. “So it seems.” Dad replied. He quickly got up and put his hands on Tim’s shoulders. “Let’s go get the sleds and find your brother and sisters. With the fresh snow last night Garfield Hill should be perfect for sledding.
The time leading up to Christmas Eve and Christmas Day was busy and filled with activity and preparation. The only time that Tim had any opportunity to think about Mr. Winter and Santa’s elf was when he dropped into bed at night, and even then it wasn’t very long because he almost immediately fell asleep. As the time grew closer it seemed to Tim like the household got busier. Mom and his sisters were busy making cookies and candy. Dad worked some extra shifts at the Post Office because many of the other workers wanted to get their holiday preparations completed; and some of them had signed up to go into the armed services and anticipated leaving at any time. Tim and his brother kept the sidewalks at their house shoveled, and they shoveled some of their neighbors’ walks too. They were usually rewarded with a nickle, once in a while a dime, and frequently a candy cane. When he could, Tim poured through his train catalogs and imagined the train that Santa might bring for him.
Finally it was Christmas Eve. The tree and the house were decorated. The house was filled with the wonderful aromas of baking and the special dishes Mom made for the Christmas feasting. As the evening moved on Tim’s family got ready to go to church. They all loved the Christmas Eve service because of the music, and the big fragrant fir that stood in the front of the Sanctuary with dozens of big brightly colored lights on it. Tim especially liked the end of the service when everyone held lighted candles and sang “Silent Night”. All of the Lindahl children liked the end of the service because it meant that they could hurry home to see if Santa had been to their house and left their presents. Some years he left them while the family was at church and some years he waited until they were all in bed asleep, and they would find them in the morning.
Once they arrived at their front door after the walk home from church Tim and his siblings all crowded up against their father as he stood unlocking the door. Each wanted to be the first to see if their presents were under the tree. As soon as Dad had the door open there was the thundering sound of four pair of feet running through the house. Tim’s brother got to the tree first this year and he stopped dead in his tracks. The rest of the children ran right into him almost knocking him over. Tim could see over the heads of his siblings and was immediately disappointed that the base of the tree was just as empty as it had been when they left for church. Mom and Dad were standing at the entry to the living rrom when Dad said “Well it looks like St. Nick hasn’t made it here yet. He must have gotten delayed in Tierra del Fuego. I guess that means there is only one thing left for you to do.” As if they had practiced a synchronized move, all four of Ned Lindahl’s children turned and thundered up the stairs to their bedrooms and were in bed before Mom and Dad had their coats off.
It took a few minutes for Tim to fall asleep. He kept thinking over and over “I hope Santa brings me a train. I hope Santa brings me a train.”
The next thing he heard was the sound of Mom banging on a pot with a wooden spoon and Dad calling up the stairs, “Wake up sleepy heads! Santa has been here.” This time it was Tim who leaped down the stairs two at a time and was the first one to the tree. He could hardly believe his eyes. There must have been other presents under the tree but all he saw were two ovals of 3 rail track, one inside of the other. On the inside track was a blue engine followed by three beautifully colored and detailed blue passenger cars. As Tim dropped to his knees he could see the electric outline engine had the number 3113 on a brass number board. The outside track was being circled by a grey streamlined steam engine and tender. It was pulling three freight cars. Tim could hardly believe that Santa had been so good to him. He barely noticed that neither train was new. Santa had taken his advice and had the elves find some older leftover trains for him, and they were all American Flyers. Tim and his Dad and siblings played with those trains for hours. Each year after that those two trains had an honored place circling the family tree.
Years later when Tim was a grown man he asked his father how “Santa” had managed to find trains that year when none were being produed or sold. Dad smiled and replied, “Mom and I knew for months ahead of time that you wanted a train for Christmas. I talked to a number of my co-workers at the Post Office to see if they knew of anyone who wanted to get rid of any trains. “Mr. Winter” was actually my supervisor and the blue train was his when he was a boy. I think he called it the Blue Bird. The other train came from Santa’s Elf, who was another of the mail carriers in a different part of the city. He heard about your request for an American Flyer train from Mr. Winter and decided that his trains would find a new home with you. Mom and I were sure that the surprise had been spoiled when they delivered the trains when we weren’t home. Mr. Winter said you looked terrified when he showed up at the door. He wondered if you thought he was a spy bringing some kind of secret weapon to the house. Tim, I’m sorry that we couldn’t find new trains for you that year.” Tim smiled and gave his Dad a big bear hug. “Dad they couldn’t have been better if they had been made out of solid gold.” “Now lets go turn out the living room lights and run some trains.”
Merry Christmas
Enjoying the World’s Greatest Hobby
Northwoods Flyer
Mr. Winter's Bluebird Set from 1928
The set brought by Santa's Elf
The Pennsylvania Freight Set #1716 from 1937
The Northwoods Flyer Collection
of
American Flyer Trains
"The Toy For the Boy"
Good evening all,
Great story.
Keep on training,
Mike C. from Indiana
Well done, Northwoods. Happy New Year to you.
Beautiful!!!
Thank you.
That is a great story.
My 1927 bluebird set was delivered to a young man in North Freedom, WI for Christmas. I bought it from his nephew, who was selling it on behalf of his great aunt, after his great uncle, the original owner passed away. I have had the set for about 8 to 10 years now, and I still treasure it, probably as much as the original owner, who kept it in the original box, with the tunnel, signal, and station.
NWL
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