In 1950, most of the WWII veterans were back in Carson City and we were well on the way doing our share to "multiply and replenish" the population. Housing was at a premium in those days as well as a decent living wage.
My husband, Bob Clark, and I rushed into the baby business (not planned), and had four babies on our hands in a two-year period; Bob Jr., 2, Gayle, 1, and twins Judy and Joann, 5 months.
Christmas that December had me making stocking dolls for the girls and sewing clothes in lieu of "store bought" presents. The girls were too small to know what Christmas was all about, so we squeaked by that year.
Since I was tied down caring for the babies and the annual Christmas program was coming up, it was up to my husband to take Bob Jr. to see Santa Claus. I know there are still a few folks around who knew Bob and were familiar with his "colorful" language, and of course little Bob had followed in his footsteps when it came to cussing.
The night of the program, they bundled up and off they went. When they returned home, Bob was bursting to tell me what had happened. It seems when the musical program was on, Bobby blurted out, "Christ, Dad, they're singing loud enough to be heard by the audience." To top it off, someone shouted, "There's a Clark in the house."
I guess the reason that year still lingers in my mind so vividly was the fact that we didn't have money to squander on toys, but with a Christmas tree and the spirit of Christmas plus four little Clarks, it really was a Christmas to remember.