Woolworths was magical, all lit up for Christmas and the buzz of the overhead money canisters - whizzing off to a secret destination to be unlocked and sent back with change, was pure magic to a young fulla with 10 in his pocket.
Thank you Dad for the growling you gave me when I came back with not one big present for me but 11 little ones for all of our whanau and thank you for the smile on their faces when I showed up at home with them.
Thank you Uncle Robbie for nicknaming me the "Ten Quid Kid" after that growling Dad gave me, and to Mr Costello whogave me a ride home backto the Mount in his flash new Jag, with a boot full of presents.
DEAR Mum,
Thank you for the Christmas kai you put on for your small army of kids. You may not have been able to give us presents but you gave us a precious gift that doesn't seem to be around so much these days - your time. We had time to tell jokes, sings songs while doing the dishes and time to play well into the hours of darkness on the safe streets of the Mount. Thank you for picking me after my paper run and letting me spend what I earned on cool stuff for Christmas, like hiring out Taffy Davies bright yellow and black lilos on the Mount main beach or watching the big bangers roaring down the back straight of Bay Park.
Thank you for the swims we had all through summer at Cosy Corner motor camp, and the occasional ice block afterwards, you paid for with hard-earned cash bagging flour at the Roller Mills down on the wharf.
Often late into the night - while us kids slept.
DEAR Uncle dark Moon, who sang Please Release Me as a Christmas anthem like no other could,
Thank you for the wonderful wharfie picnics at Whareroa Marae, next to the Fert Works as it was known in those days. And thank you Uncle Jimmy for your tall stories that made Santa believable and opened up a whole new world of creative writing for me.
Thank you Mum for the precious gift of time you spent on us kids before, during and after Christmas.
DEAR daughters,
Thank you for the presents paid for with pocket money that never made it to your piggy banks when it should have. Thank you for the predictable prezzies, that the Ware-whare talked you into buying for me.
Thank you for unwrapping the greatest gift of all at Christmas - you - and thank you for the second chance to get it right by sharing and showing an attitude of gratitude - as it was to me by my mum and dad at Christmas.
DEAR Moko,
Hurry up and come home from across the ditch in Ngati Skippy Land, Koro is going to give away your Christmas present if you and Mum don't show up soon.
Dear down-but-not-outs, who life has dealt a rough set of cards for Christmas,
Thank you for the lesson learned about what we have here in the Bay that has plenty, and how much more of that we can share if we take a chance with charity.
DEAR Darling,
Thank you for the golf clubs you never got me because others needed your money more.
Thank you for reminding me that time costs nothing and is worth more than any long walk to freedom around a perfectly manicured golf course - but comes a close second.
DEAR Santa,
Sorry about the short runway bro, the ice cap is melting faster than we first thought. Perhaps drones as a delivery device could be worth talking to the three wise men about, who are on their way as we speak.
Haere mai, haere mai Hanakoko (Santa Claus).
Haere mai to the land of the Christmas crowd, where we all have a priceless present we can give each other - as those we love most have given us.
The gift of time.
-broblack@xtra.co.nz
Tommy Wilson is a best-selling author and local writer.
